Page 105 of Burn

My skin is damp with a light layer of sweat, and the cool air in the apartment chills me to the bone. The cuffs lay in front of me, thoughtlessly discarded, and I consider throwing them, but something in my mind tells me that if I touch them, I’ll end up restrained by them again.

Adrian’s words repeat in my mind, and their effect is beyond confusing.

‘I could only focus on finding a way to keep you forever,’

I volley between telling myself he’s been fucking with me since day one, and that he genuinely cares and just sucks at showing it in a normal, healthy way. Ultimately, I settle on the former, because no one that genuinely cares would lock me to a fucking bed and walk away.

Leave.

Using the bed frame for leverage, I push myself up onto shaky legs. My entire body feels like it’s made ofJello-O, and I let myself catch my breath before I make my move. The room is fucked. Absolutely destroyed. I kicked the mattress off the frame, looking for a way to separate the cuffs from it. It hit the night table, knocking over the lamp and shattering the bulb. Theframe left deep gouges in the flooring, and I take a small amount of satisfaction knowing he’ll lose his security deposit.

There’s a mirror over the dresser, and I approach it, taking in my reflection. Somehow, the bruises across my cheekbones seem darker, and exhaustion is evident in the bags under my eyes. I don’t think I’ve ever looked less like myself. I barely recognize the person who stares back from the mirror. I rake my fingers through my long, tangled hair, wishing my bag were in the room so I could grab my brush. From the other room, I hear Mildred mew. It’s a sad sound that reminds me she’s been in there for too long, and I need to get her out of here.

Yesterday, after receiving the letter, I called my insurance company. They informed me that I was in the queue for a call. It turns out that my apartment is complete, and I can go home. I inhale deeply, taking in the familiar smell of this space. It’s different from my place, it’s different from the first day I arrived. Then, it was pure Adrian, smoky and intense. Now, it’s a perfect combination of him and me, and my stomach twists at the thought of never smelling it again.

When I realized I was leaving, I decided to leave everything he bought behind, as much as I wanted to try and save pieces of him for myself. As I shiver, I step over the shrapnel of our fight to pull a sweater from the closet. My fingers graze one of the many items of clothing Adrian picked out in preparation for my arrival, but I don’t want one of these pieces that mean nothing to me. In the back corner of the closet is a faded black hoodie. The hem of the hood is worn and tattered, and when I lift the sleeve to my nose, it’s all Adrian.

Fuck it.

I pull it off the hanger and slip it over my head, leaving the hood up, like a shield. It provides me the illusion of safety, and I’ll take whatever I can get. I move back across the room,heading for the door. When I reach the cuffs, I step onto the bed frame to avoid being near them, as if they’ll jump up and grab me. It’s dramatic and childish, but I don’t fucking care. Reason and logic don’t exist in my current mindset.

Pausing at the door, I lean into it, pressing my ear to the wood and listening for him. It’s silent, save for the occasional sound from Millie, so I reach for the handle. Based on how slowly I move and hesitate before wrapping my hand around it, you’d think I were expecting it to be hot. I brace myself for it not to turn, but it doesn’t lock, and the door creaks quietly as I pull it open.

The sun peaks through the clouds as the storm clears, and light floods into the small unit. From here, I can see the kitchen and front door, my belongings still where I’d dropped them. The couch is on the other side of the bedroom wall, so I can’t see it; can’t see Adrian, and I thank the universe for this particular gift because I’m not sure I could see him and still leave.

Not if he looks destroyed.

No. It’s imperative that I make it out the door without seeing his face.

Head up, shoulders back.

Walk with confidence.

I coach myself as I take my first step out of the bedroom.

Don’t turn around.

My feet feel like they’re made of stone, and each step feels impossible. I stay on the balls of my sock-covered feet, trying to be as stealthy as possible. When Mildred sees me, she increases her pleas for release, and I drop down, offering her a couple of comforting caresses through the bars of her carrier.

“Shhh,” I soothe, keeping my volume to a whisper. “You’re okay.”

Without standing, I pull my backpack over my shoulders and then sling my purse across my chest. My heart, the organ I worked so hard to steel, weeps. It begs me not to do this or reconsider, but my logical mind scolds it.

‘He’s everything,’ my poor heart sobs.

‘He’s dangerous,’ my brain hisses.

My eyes sting with the first tears that threaten, but I refuse to cry, not after everything. I’ll save my tears for when I pour myself into bed at home. I hear a soft movement behind me as Adrian shifts on the couch.

It’s time to go.

I push back up, the weight of my bags fighting gravity to keep me down. Once I’m fully standing, I reach for the carrier’s handle, and Millie wobbles inside. I twist the lock and silently plead with it to be quiet. At the last minute, when the bolt slides free from the door frame, it makes an almost inaudible ‘click’ and from the couch, Adrian sucks in a sharp breath.

Am I supposed to say anything?

Goodbye?

Thank you?

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