Page 73 of Pretend
I’m on my knees, cleaning my mouth with toilet paper. It’s a quick release, and my sickness is over in a minute. The nausea still lingers even though I flushed it all away until my stomach had nothing more to give. The loud noise of the small toilet flushing swallows my trembling sobs. I slump down on the heel of my toes and cry into my forearms.
It feels like hours go by as I cry thinking about the children, victims of war, and the gruesome details of horror and evil combined into one.
“Valentine.”
I open my swollen, aching red eyes, and through blurry vision, I see him standing at the restroom stall door with a softened gaze.
“Stop it, Hannibal, stop saying my name like that!”
“I’m sorry.”
My harsh words come out like venom, and I take a deep breath in as guilt settles.
“I didn’t mean it like that…I,” I stop myself because I can feel the layers of my shell I hide behind become transparent. I’m vulnerable, and this time…I want to be.
“I like it when you call me Valentine. The way you say it, though… it feels good.” I confess as I lift off my arms and watch his response.
He swallows, and his jaw twitches. His Adam’s apple bobs as he soaks in my words.
“How do you do this job, Daegan? How do youallkeep doing this job without breaking? I feel helpless.” I confess as I remember all the images and videos.
He doesn’t answer. I continue to cry into my hands as the darkness of war cracks my spirit. The sounds of my sobs are the only thing in between us.
“I want to show you something, Alessia.” He calls me by my first name, and for the first time since that rainy night at his house, his guard is down, the walls are cracked, and his cloak of a shield evaporates.
“Come with me.” He holds his hand out, and I stare at it longer than I should, debating with myself. This is unprofessional of both of us, but I think we crossed that line months ago.
I grab his hand, and he immediately reacts. He pulls me to my feet, helps me stand, and brings me in for a hug straight into his chest. And like a moth to a flame, I melt into his arms and sob harder. He plants his chin on the top of my head as he holds me deep into his uniform. I get lost in his scent as my tears fall into his clothing fabric.
He holds me, but the way he’s holding me is like he’s letting me know that I’m safe with him. He doesn’t have to say it; the way his body moves aroundme warms me, and the way he wraps me tightly with his arms, my sobs dissipate into shorter and softer whimpers.
“Let me show you a place,” he murmurs into my hair. I sniffle into his chest, not wanting to let go, but give in with a nod seconds later.
He pushesopen the door to the rooftop of the building. It’s a tall building, five stories high. We walked in silence as I followed him through the staircase.
I trust him. Wherever he’s taking me, we’ll be safe.
As soon as he opens the door, the sounds of the airfield roar and the night takes over us like shadows.
It’s late at night, and the stars twinkle loudly in the dark sky. The moon is a crescent, and the winds are cool against my naked arms and face.
Daegan steps forward, but my heels stay planted with hesitation. He stops walking when he realizes I haven’t moved. He turns, and his eyes crease like he’s smiling. He comes back and grabs my hand, gently pulling me through the door.
We walk for a few seconds until we reach the center of the rooftop.
He lets go of my hand.
“Wait here for a sec,” He bends down slightly and mutters into my ear. Tingles run down my spine as his deep voice takes its usual effect on me. He disappears, going in the corner’s direction.
“What are we doing here? Where are you going?” I whisper harshly. Crossing my arms against my chest for warmth, I look around, making sure no one sees us.
“I’m pretty sure we can’t be here!” I scold him, murmuring under my jarring breath.
A minute later, he emerges with a rucksack under the bright moonlight. And no mask.
His dark waves of hair sway in the wind, and the temptation to run my hands through it gets stronger.
“Wh—what? You just have a rucksack up here at all times?”
