Page 20 of Monsters Like Us
The breath leaves me.
Micah’s on his bed, but he doesn’t look like the stoic, untouchable monster everyone whispers about. His body twitches, sharp and involuntary, like he’s fighting something that isn’t there. When the blanket slips, I see the angry welts across his wrists, his chest, even his arms. Fresh scars, raw and red.
He’s in pain. Real pain.
The sight shocks me in a way I can’t explain. My heart squeezes, torn between fear and something dangerously close to sympathy.
I should walk away. Pretend I didn’t see him.
But I can’t.
Before I know it, my fingers are shaking as I slide the keycard I stole from Marcy’s pocket against the lock. The light blinks. The door clicks open.
I slip inside, closing it quickly behind me, my chest tight. The air in his room is heavy with the smell of antiseptic and sweat.
He doesn’t stir at first, just twitches again, his jaw clenching. I move closer, my heart thudding. My hand hovers over him, uncertain, trembling.
Up close, the welts and scars are worse. Precise. Deliberate. The smell of charred flesh infiltrates my nose. This was no accident.
Someone did this to him.
A chill races down my spine.
I shouldn’t be here. But I am. And I can’t look away.
My hand hovers, then lowers, brushing the welt at his wrist. His skin is hot, fever-warm, and the contact makes my chest tighten.
His eyes snap open.
A sharp gasp tears from me. I stumble back, my spine pressing into the wall. He doesn’t move right away, just lies there, his eyes locked on mine, black and bottomless.
“How,” his voice is raw and low, “did you get in here?”
My mouth goes dry. The truth tangles on my tongue. “I… I was worried.”
A slow, dangerous smile creeps over his lips. He slowly pushes himself upright, his muscles tense, the marks on his chest stark under the harsh light.“You were worried about me?”
Heat climbs up my throat. “You’re hurt. Someone… Someone did this to you.”
His laugh is soft, humorless, and it makes my skin prickle. “And you came in anyway. Even knowing what I am.”
I should deny it. I should run.
Instead, the words slip out in a whisper. “I had to.”
He stands. Every inch of him radiates power, the kind of presence that makes the air too thick to breathe. He closes the space between us. I press myself against the wall, knowing I can’t escape him.
His head tilts, studying me like I’m prey that wandered willingly into the predator’s den. “You broke into my room, little murderess. Do you know what that means?”
My knees tremble, but I lift my chin, holding his gaze. “That I’m not afraid of you.”
His hand lifts, the backs of his knuckles grazing my cheek the way they did outside. But this time, there’s no one watching. His touch lingers, slow and claiming.
“You should be.” His whisper is molten steel. “But I like that you’re not.”
The key card slips from my sweaty palm and clatters to the floor. The sound snaps me from the spell. My ragged breath rushes out of me. “I—I should go.”
His smile widens, dark and knowing, as he leans justclose enough that I feel his breath against my ear. “Next time you sneak in, Katana… you won’t leave so easily.”
