Page 188 of Branded
The basement.
Fuck. Fuck. I was fucking up. Fucking this up, fucking up the good I was supposed to be giving.
Then my gaze caught on the window.
And the light shining through it.
“What time is it?” I whispered.
“Just after ten,” Hazel supplied when Raph didn’t answer.
I jerked my hand free. He had practice today, and he should be there. Not here. Not then. Not ever. “You’ve got to go.”
Raph rocked back in his seat. “What?”
“You’ve got to get to the rink. You’ve got to go to work. You can’t be here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The monitors began beeping faster.
“You have to go.” I whipped toward Hazel. “You both have to go. You can’t see—” I clamped my teeth together. “You need to go. You need to go. Go!”
Marin straightened, and I didn’t miss her glancing out the sliding door, probably looking for a doctor or nurse, someone who would give me something to calm down.
But I didn’t want to take something to calm down, I didn’t want to lose more hours.
This couldn’t happen.
I had to lock down the doors. Shore off the basement.
Not let anyone in. No. Not let Raph and Hazel in.
“You both have work. I’m fine. I had a moment. I had?—”
“Hours of not being in the present, sweetheart,” Hazel murmured. “Hours of being trapped somewhere bad and not being aware of your body, not being able to communicate, not being able to tell everyone what was going on.”
I knew it.
I’d felt it after, when I’d cuddled close.
Felt the demon slither free.
I should have acted then, but I’d been in that moment, relaxed and happy and with Raph, and so I hadn’t prepared, hadn’t been ready for the sneak attack, having expected it to come later, when I was alone.
That was when it always happened.
That was when the nightmares came, and I lost time, and?—
That was when the demons of my past struck.
This wasn’t the time to go down this path. It was pretty much the worst-case scenario for me in this moment. I needed to do damage control. I needed to save this somehow. I needed—distraction and avoidance and a shit ton of concrete to pour into the basement.
A deep breath. Another. The beeping on the monitors slowing.
Marin calming, her head turning back to me, concern still there, but less urgency.
Right. I had to get this done.
