Page 34 of Tears and Other Fears

Mr. Youngblood.

I sent a quick text to Renon while pacing the floors, asking when he would be back from wherever the fuck they went. He responded with a cheeky message that had me rolling my eyes.

“One orgasm coming in hot. Two hours. Be ready.”

That cheesy, cocky motherfucker.

“You owe me four. But I want them from Noah.”

My phone pinged, but I didn’t bother to read his message and decided to stalk around the penthouse instead.

I was terrified to get back in bed. I knew that if I slipped under the soft sheets that smelled like Young, I would fall into that helpless sense of exhaustion again. I was fighting to feel functional. The key to surviving soul-sucking sadness was to outrun it.

So I cooked. I stripped naked—slowly. Then, I put on one of Samuel’s shirts from his bedroom, then cut it up until it fell off my frame. I drank ice-cold water until my stomach sloshed, then did some yoga poses I found on YouTube.

When all of that didn’t distract me from the heavy hold my lids had over my eyes, I strippedagainand started sending racy photos to Noah to encourage a sense of urgency. For someone that was used to loneliness, the quiet sure scared me.

I was sitting naked on the couch while picking at my toenail polish when I heard the front door open. I spun around to greet Young or Renon or Noah, but felt a shockwave through my system when I was greeted by Samuel Smith.

I didn’t bother to hide my body. I didn’t have anything Samuel fucking Smith hadn’t already seen. I did, however, hide the slight tremor of fear caged around my soul. I wasn’t normally so afraid of conflict, but something in his eyes had me wondering what lengths he was willing to go to for revenge.

He was bruised from where Young had hit him. The black and blue shiner looked painful and was haphazardly covered in makeup. I wondered what his parents thought of the graduation-day style choice.

He had a blurred sort of expression that sizzled with angst and alcohol. He was definitely drunk; I could tell by the way he swayed. “Octavia,” he greeted. “I wasn’t expecting to find you naked and waiting for me. This is just perfect.”

I stood up from my spot on the couch, poising my hands on my hips as I stared him down. “What are you doing here, Samuel?” I asked. “I thought Young made it pretty clear when he beat you up that you’re no longer welcome here.”

My phone was sitting on the couch. I eyed it like it was the impotent gun I’d stolen from Mrs. Mulberry. If I called, would anyone answer?

Since when did I rely on anyone else?

“Young isn’t here. And by the looks of it, neither is Renon or your shitty therapist.” He gave me a predatory once over, and I shivered.

“So what, are you here for some nefarious plans, Samuel? Is this the part where you pull a gun out of your trench coat and spill all your fucked up secrets while cackling like a lunatic?” I asked in a teasing voice. Samuel was a prideful motherfucker that wanted to be taken seriously; I knew it was a hit to his ego that I wasn’t showing how terrified I felt.

“Guns are loud and messy. Besides, you’re more about poetic justice, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t wrong, and it pissed me off to know that he had me so figured out. I was always seeking meaning and purpose. Whatever he had planned for me would echo the journey I’ve been on for the last year. Samuel was thoughtful like that. Ignorant, but thoughtful.

“You know,” Samuel began while walking closer to me. I wrapped my arms around myself and took a step backward. “At first, I was mad about your dud of a gun. I wanted you dead. Hell, I never wanted something so bad. But you didn’t even care. You looked just as disappointed to be alive as I was to see you still breathing.”

I gritted my teeth as he nonchalantly shoved his hands into his pockets. I watched him wrestle around as if he were seeking something in the tight denim jeans he was wearing. “But now? Now, I’m happy it played out like this. You look terrified to die, Octavia. I can see it in your eyes. You’re trembling. I have that sort of effect on you, don’t I?”

He took another step and another. I lunged for my phone, but he grabbed me before I could get to it. I felt his strong hands grip me tightly, pressing so hard I knew that I would bruise.

“But I’m going to enjoy killing you. Now, you’ve got something you’re afraid to lose—something to live for.”

His hot breath smelled like whiskey and was like an angry slap in the face as I tried to jerk free. Within seconds, he was throwing me down on the ground, and I tried to crawl away despite the harsh throbbing in my head from where I’d hit.

His large body pinned me beneath him, pressing his knees between my legs. He was heavy as he pressed down against me, sandwiching me between the floor and his chest. With one hand, he pinned my wrists down while rummaging through his pocket once more. There was once a time that I appreciated his commanding strength, but now it felt lethal. I hated how vulnerable my naked body made me feel.

“Fuck you,” I screamed before spitting in his face. The sick bastard licked my saliva off his chin with a grin.

“It’s like old times, having you beneath me. I’d love to stay and enjoy your body one last time, but we won’t be alone for long.” He must’ve found whatever was in his pocket, because he slammed his palm over my mouth, and I felt something slip past my lips.

A pill.

A fucking pill.

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