Page 42 of Deadly Sacrifice

He licks his lips, lifting his hands like he’s about to sign something, but I don’t want to know whatever it is. If he tells me he’s sorry and he can’t imagine how hard growing up would have been, I may scream.

Before he gets the chance to sign anything, I look straight ahead once more. “It wasn’t all bad. She went on and off medication for years, and when she was stable and doing well, we had a lot of fun. She’s always loved me with everything she has. It’s just, sometimes when she wasn’t doing so good, she’d kind of lose track of everything in her mind.” I pause, taking a deep breath and crossing my arms across my chest to hide the way my hands are shaking. “A few years ago, she was having a really hard time. She looked okay, though. She was put together and smiling for once, and I didn’t think anything of it when she told me to hop in the car with her…” I cast a quick glance to the parking lot to my left and an honest to god shiver wracks my bones. “We crashed. I almost died. And that’s how I got these,” I explain, slowly pulling my sleeve up to show Griffin the raised, red skin along my forearm.

Griffin stops walking, carefully taking my wrist in his hand. When I find the nerve to look at his face, he’s staring at me, not my scar. And somehow, that’s worse. Like he can see past my armor and read the whispers of my soul. My breath hitches in my chest when he brushes his thumb over it.

Nerves are eating away at me from the inside out. I’ve never shown anyone my scars. But Griffin doesn’t have that choice. His is right on his neck, plain for everyone to see and speculate over. And judge. No matter how good looking he is, people are cruel, and they’ll pick apart anything they think of as damage.

I pull my arm back to my side, chewing my lip while I start a leisurely walk again. “That morning, she told me The Stars had called her. That they wanted to meet. All of her delusions were about them. That’s why this means so much to me, Griffin. I need to know what happened to my mom that… that twisted her all up and made her fear these people I want to know if all the things she said over the years have been true, and if they are, maybe I can… I don’t know, fix some of it for her,” I admit, fighting the tight feeling in my chest. “I just want my mom back. Happy, healthy, and not terrified out of her mind.”

Griffin sighs, and it’s such a heavy sound that it makes me think he’s got a lot of weight solely on his shoulders. He stops me outside of the A.Chi.O. house, his face creased in worry. I want to help you solve it, little flame, but you should know—

“Little late for evening strolls, guys,” Heather says cheekily from her window on the top floor. “Prudence, come on inside. Asher wants you over there bright and early to make them breakfast before class.”

I don’t turn to look at her. I can’t, otherwise I may flip her off. Or find the closet heavy object to throw at her window.

Griffin rolls his eyes, but doesn’t look up either.

“I should know what?” I ask, ignoring Heather in my peripheral. Hers is the only room up there with the lights on, and I can unfortunately see enough of her frame that it pisses me off.

He shakes his head, signing, Another time.

I try my best not to let the defeat show on my face. “Yeah, alright. See you in the morning,” I mumble, backing up toward the front door.

Before I can get very far, Griffin takes my left hand, raising it and gently pulling back my sleeve again. He holds my gaze as he rubs his thumb over my scar for the second time tonight, but that’s not what almost has my knees giving out. Oh, no. That happens when he lowers his mouth and presses the faintest of kisses to my wrist, right where the scar starts.

Goodnight, he signs after he straightens up. He gives me this adorable, crooked smile, and something in his blue eyes assures me that he’s on my team in all of this. While I’m trying to stop my heart from pounding right out of my chest, he turns to cross the street, and I stay outside until he makes it into the frat house.

23

Creed

I’m running on about an hour of sleep, haunted by memories and all those repeated half-threats from Asher’s dad and the rest of the elder members.

Follow the rules, Creed.

Keep your head down, Creed.

Do what you’re told, Creed.

You don’t want to go back to the hospital, do you, Creed?

I’m spiraling. I can feel it in the way my brain won’t focus, the way my hands are fidgeting, and how jumpy I’m getting again.

I don’t have dreams about my time in that mental institution very often, but when I do, it knocks me off balance for a while. I try to block it all out the best I can, but I’m like a vase that’s been shattered and glued back together, time and time again. There will always be cracks. And each time I break, there’s less of me to put back together.

I drag myself out of bed, giving up on sleep for the day. The sun is just rising over the horizon and it’s far too fucking early for me to function, but I’d rather be a damn zombie all day than toss and turn in bed for the next few hours.

A walk might clear my head and wear me out.

Throwing on sweatpants, a black hoodie, and sneakers, I slip out of my room and creep down the hall. I’m not really worried about waking Asher or Griffin, but there’s always the off chance that Asher will see right through into my chaotic mind and hound me about my meds and the last time I talked with my psychiatrist.

It’s been a while, not gonna lie.

But I’ve been doing so good. I’ve been stable, my head has been clear, and I haven’t missed my meds in a long ass time. Enter Prudence. It’s because she won’t hardly speak to me anymore. She’s upset about what went down at that party, and she’s fucking cut me off.

Well, that just doesn’t work for me. Griffin has made zero effort to complete his initiation, and yet it’ll be me who gets blamed if we fail to break her. It’ll be me who gets locked up in a padded room and forced to take too many pills until I can’t even wipe my own ass without some nurse holding me up.

It’ll be me who loses everything.

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