Page 132 of Hide From Me

The air is still around us now. The kind of stillness that only comes after a storm, where the ground is wet, the sky is heavy, but the worst of it has passed. There's peace in it, or maybe just exhaustion. Either way, we sit in it.

“I thought you’d hate me,” she says eventually, eyes fixed on the dirt.

“Iloveyou,” I say, without hesitation, without apology, without flinching. “There’s no version of this where I walk away from you.”

Behind us, Sam grunts as his shovel strikes something heavier than soil.

“Jesus Christ, how deep did she—?” He growls.

“Just shut up and dig,” Caspian hisses sharply.

Raylen stiffens in my arms. Her whole body tenses like a live wire, like she’s about to bolt. Her fingers grip my shirt so hard the fabric stretches beneath her nails.

She can smell it now. So can I.

The scent rises thick and acidic, a rotting punch to the gut that no one was prepared for. Her breath hitches, turning frantic.

“Oh God,” she whispers, her voice tiny and cracking.

I move fast, pulling her face into my chest, shielding her. My palm comes up gently over her eyes, careful but firm.

“Don’t look,” I whisper. “Don’t even think about it. Just listen to me, sunshine. Just breathe.”

Her breath stutters again, fast, broken. “I—”

“Shhh.” I rock her just slightly, back and forth, trying to soothe her like my mother did me when I first started having panic attacks.

Jasmine gags. It’s almost impossible not to make out the shifting weight of bodies and fabric, the dull, heavy thud of something being laid to rest in the tarp that follows.

“Got him,” Sam mutters. “Fuck, he’s—”

“Don’t say it,” Caspian snaps. “Get him into the tarp—fast.”

The zip of canvas cuts through the night, followed by footsteps in the dirt. Raylen’s hands are shaking so violently now that I have to wrap both arms around her to keep her grounded.

Caspian’s voice comes close, “It’s done. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Cordelia brushes a hand over my shoulder as she passes. Her touch is light but weighted. “Take care of her, Moe.”

“I’ve got this,” I nod.

One by one, they move past us—quiet, steady, efficient. No words. No questions. Just the shuffling of boots and the hum of engines fading into the distance, swallowed by the trees.

Silence drapes over the woods, but it’s not peaceful. It’s the kind that screams between your ribs. That sinks in like ice.

I slowly lower my hand from Raylen’s face. Her skin is flushed and wet with tears, lashes clumped together, making her fight to open her eyes.

“I’m sorry if we scared you. I’m sorry for coming out here. I’m sorry for a bunch of shit, but we both know I would’ve done this sooner if I’d known.”

My voice cracks in places I didn’t expect it to. I smooth my thumb over her cheekbone, trying to calm the haunted shadows flickering there, like if I touchher gently enough, I can smooth the weight out of her bones. She doesn’t flinch this time.

That alone nearly brings me to my knees.

“I’ll always be here to help carry the things that haunt you.” The words feel like a promise and a confession, all at once on my tongue. I mean every single syllable.

She just stares at me for a second, eyes full to the brim, shining like the edge of a storm that’s trying not to break.

Her hands—trembling, but certain—grasp the sides of my face, catching me off guard. Fingertips sink into the scruff along my jaw, and before I can breathe, she drags me down into her.

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