Page 63 of Something like Love

I know it did because I watched it through someone else’s eyes, and although those eyes belonged to me, I felt like a stranger within my own body.

How could I have left them there?

Yes, it made sense in theory, but practically, it made no sense at all. I wanted them dead, and I had that option, but we took this road instead, and now, we’re on the run—again.

I’m curled on my side, barely clothed, in a bed with soft white sheets that provide me little comfort because all I can think about is how tonight changed me. I will never be the same person I once was. I terrified myself with my venomous words because I meant it all.

I meant every single awful word, and that’s what scares me.

I don’t want anger, violence, and revenge to be my fuel for survival. I just want to be normal, and this anger eating away at me is far from being normal. All my steps forward have just been erased, and now, I’m back at the starting line with no energy to finish the race.

I just want to sleep, but I can’t. I’m too tired for rest, and I’m too tired to think. But my overactive mind won’t switch off, and I doubt it’ll do so anytime soon.

Wearily raising my head off the pillow, I see it’s just after two o’clock in the morning, but it feels so much later.

I slump back onto the pillow, and my eyes take in the small room, lit by the bathroom light peeking out under the adjoining door. It’s then that I realize the shower is running.

I can’t believe we’re back here, on the run, after foolishly believing we’d finally caught a break. When will this shitstorm end? When will it finally be over?

A little voice inside me whispers I can change that because I know what Phil wants.

I was stupid to think I could ever cut free from a life you never leave unless it’s in a body bag. I’m never going to be normal because this fucked-up and crazy shit is starting to slowly become my usual once again.

The shower switches off, returning me to the here and now, and I want Quinn to hold me more than anything. I need him to make me feel safe and be the tether to my withering sanity, which slips away with every breath I take.

After a few minutes, the bathroom door opens, and I catch a quick glimpse of a naked Quinn as he turns off the bathroom light. I make no attempt to move and just lay still, listening to Quinn softly shift around the room, rifling through his bag and slipping on a pair of boxers.

His actions have me aware of my lack of undergarments.

I’m wearing a huge T-shirt, which I know is Quinn’s because I can smell him on the material. He most likely showered me and bundled me up in his shirt before putting me to bed.

I don’t remember that either.

The blankets are pulled back, and Quinn tiredly lowers himself onto the smooth sheets, no doubt his beaten body protesting every move he makes.

“You okay?” Quinn whispers, knowing I’m not asleep.

“No,” I honestly reply. There’s no point in lying because Quinn would see straight through me.

“It’s okay to not be okay.”

“My dad and my uncle both sold me out. How does one accept that and stay sane?” I state, not expecting any answers.

“Uncle?” Quinn asks. I forgot he wasn’t present when the revelation from hell was revealed.

“Phil is Cynthia’s brother. Therefore, that son of a bitch, sadly, is my uncle.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” I blankly reply, feeling so numb that I actually ache. “It’s just one thing after another. When will we catch a break?”

“I know.” He sighs, bundling me up into his bare chest and kissing the top of my head.

We have so much to discuss, but I don’t even know where to start. But there is one question I need to know—where was he?

When I was looking for him, where did he go?

“Where were you?” I ask, sinking into his warm embrace.

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