Page 39 of The Cruelest Chaos
I hear a squeak, a few of them actually, and I jump back, confused as fuck.What isinthere?
The smell of horse shit is making me feel grimy. I’m not an animal person. It’s hard to keep something else alive when you’re barely holding onto your own fucking sanity.
Or maybe no one likes the smell of horse shit. I don’t know.
“Thanks again,” Ella says, and my mouth falls open. She’s actuallythankingsomeone for something? Who is this god in there?
Whoever it is doesn’t answer her thanks. It occurs to me that maybe she’s…alone. Maybe she talks to herself. Natalie said she had BPD, which I was vaguely aware of, because artists love their mental health problems.
As much as I try to keep it under wraps, the journal I’ve got in my safe back home is full of something one might call poetry.
It’ll never see the light of day…but still.
Even so, as far as I’m aware, BPD doesn’t include hallucinations.
“Mom hasn’t come home in two days.”
Her voice is low, and it sounds like she’s speaking through a lump in her throat. I unclench my fists, step closer to the shed.
She blows out a breath, but it sounds more like a distraction than anything else. Like she’s exhaling air to keep from letting go of something else entirely.
“There’s no food in the house.”
Fuck her mom.
My stomach flips. I think about the way she stuffed each forkful of mac-n-cheese down her throat. How I’d almost said something stupid about it.Almost.
“Alright, Connor,” she says with sigh, “I think we’re done here.”
Connor?!
I open up the bottom half of the shed door, wrenching it free from whatever rusty ass lock it was held together by.
The squeaks grow louder, and the smell grows worse.
And Ella is getting to her feet with half a carrot in her hand, her beautiful hair pulled into a high ponytail, and a dude with dark hair and an angry scowl on his face is looking back at me.
He has celery fisted in both hands, and I see a muscle in his neck jump. His eyes are green, a shade lighter than Ella’s, but they darken the longer he stares at me.
At their feet are a shit ton of Guinea pigs, going wild in circles around their hay, some scurrying into little plastic huts.
“Shut the door or they’re going to get out,” Ella snaps at me. She steps through the door, turns to Connor and offers her free hand.
He stuffs his celery into one hand and takes her hand with his eyes still on me. He’s careful with his feet, ensuring no Guinea pigs get harmed in his exit.
Ella closes the door carefully, latching it from the outside, and then she whirls around to face me.
I see she’s still holding Connor’s hand.
I’m going to fucking break it.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Ella snarls at me. She has a smudge of dirt on her pale skin, and it covers some of her freckles.
“Who the fuck is this?” I nod towardConnor.
Connor clenches his jaw.
“Oh, fuck off. How did you even know I’d be here? Are youfollowing me?”She steps forward, and Connor with her, still holding onto her hand.
