Page 28 of Creatures Like Us
He’s patient like a rock, and I’m everything but. With any pursuit I set my mind to, I fail before I see it through. That’s how it’s always been, and so it will be even with killing myself.
I let out a frustrated shout and throw the chain off my neck. “Fine. You win.”
Noah shows no sign of triumph or amusement. He just stands there, arms crossed, studying me.
Fuck, I hate him so much.
I sit down, legs drawn up to my chin. “Happy now?”
“Happy?” He says it with more blank sincerity than the question warrants. A serious answer to a sarcastic question. “No.”
“Me neither,” I mutter.
He chooses his next words carefully, and he speaks them in a slow, even voice. “What will it take for you to be happy?”
I sigh. “You already know what would make me happy, Noah. It’s pretty fucking simple.”
He tilts his head. “But you’ll feel better soon. Your body won’t be dependent on the drugs anymore. Your mind is another matter, but I’ll help you.”
“No.” I hide my face in my sleeve, wiping at the tears that don’t need much encouragement to spill these days. “You can’t help me. This is hopeless, what you’re doing.”I can’t be saved. You might as well give up.
“There is hope,” Noah says quietly, and for some reason, I don’t feel like the words are directed at me. His gaze is far away, and a great sadness fills his eyes. “There has to be.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“You’re my only?…?my?…” He bites the words off and shakes his head. “Never mind.”
We fall into silence, and I take the opportunity to study the lines of his body, the way he holds himself. I contemplate his strength, his speed?…?He’s still carrying that knife; the hilt of itsticks up by the belt of his jeans, and an idea forms in my mind. A desperate one.
If I can’t convince him to let me go, and if I can’t get rid of the chain, then my only way of escape is to hurt him.
Maybe even kill him.
I glance down at my hands, swallowing hard.
I didn’t want it to come to this. I’m not a fighter. I’m not a killer. I’m too weak, really, to overpower someone like Noah, unless I can take him by surprise somehow.
To do this, I have to forget about his tales of his past life, and the dark parts of him I see reflected in myself. I have to forget about that soft look in his eyes, the way he seems so hungry for me to like him.
I can’t like him. I have to hate him. I have towantto hurt him for what he’s done to me. Part of me does, but another part?…?I don’t know. I can’t make sense of my thoughts. I can’t make sense of anything when it comes to him, but the fact remains.
If I want to break free, I have to fight, and I need that knife of his. But first, I need to regain my strength and stop feeling as sick as I do, and for that, the only thing that helps is time.
Days pass—eternitypasses—of shivers, cold sweat, and jaw-clenched agitation. I haven’t been able to sleep save for a few fitful hours, but one morning, finally, I sink into dreamland, and I stay there for a long time.
When I open my eyes next, there’s a shadow at the edge of my vision, rummaging around for something in the corner of the room.
Noah.
I shut my eyes and pretend I’m still asleep, and he seems none the wiser. He empties my bucket into the toilet, and after heflushes its contents, he returns it to its place, but he doesn’t go back upstairs.
He stays, watching me. Looming over me.
It’s creepy, yeah, but I can’t help but think it’s a little endearing too. He reaches a hand out to brush a strand of hair from my face. That tenderness, it almost?…?But no. I can’t afford to hesitate. I have to do this. I have to take this chance.
I strike out, quick like a viper, grabbing his forearm in as tight a grip as I can manage. I flip around, forcing him further onto the bed, and with my other hand, I reach for his belt.
But when I fumble for the handle, the knife isn’t there.
