Page 67 of Ruin

I flop down onto the back seat of the car, his hand stroking my belly, coating me in a razing smatter of goosebumps. Sweat slicks my brow, my mouth is dry and there’s a hard suctioning sound filling my buzzing ears, pulse thudding heavily inside my skull.

Charlie’s so careful as he works his hand out of me, and I let my eyes slip closed, trusting him, unable to consider why I shouldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

His hand finally pulling free of me, fingers gently curling inside of me as he pulls out.

My name on his lips.

Heavy eyes blinking open, I stare up at him, sitting back against the opposite door, slick with something from me. A flush blooms across my chest, the tops of my ears hot, but he’s still got that look on his face as he stares down at me. Flicking his gaze between my face and the place between my parted thighs.

I feel empty,gaping, and I tense all of my muscles, trying toclosemyself up, but nothing is happening, a panic sits high in my chest, but Charlie is suddenly over top of me. One hand planted on the back of the seat, the other on the leather beside my head.

“No panicking,” he brushes his lips over mine. “I don’t have a needle,” is what he says calmly, making me blink.

Memories of when he poked the sharp object into my flesh, calming me, holding me. A full body shiver rattles throughout me at the thought, and slowly, I drag in an easy breath. Wincing at the tight pain in my lower belly.

He glances down, between us, his weight not on me, his knees bracketing my right leg on the seat, my left flopped over the edge, foot to the floor. I try to curl my toes, a fizzing in the sole of my foot, but I don’t think it moves. I try not to focus on it, my lack of movement, staring at Charlie instead.

I reach up, my fingers to his lips, his green eyes look down at his mouth, my fingertips on him. The back of my hand glides up his cheek, thumb stroking over the length of his nose, through the centre of his eyebrows, over his right brow. I drag my fingers down, over his eye, middle finger tracing the newly forming scar.

He snatches my wrist suddenly, stopping my exploration. Green eyes gazing down at me in the darkness of the car. No light beyond the lime green glow of the dashboard reflecting on the black fabric roof of the car. He turns my hand inside his hold, thumb and forefinger looping my tiny wrist, his other fingers spanning down my forearm. He brings my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the centre of my palm, grazing his teeth against the soft pads of my fingers. Soft bites and licks and kisses decorate my skin, setting me on fire in my chest, letting the rest of me smoulder and smoke.

“We’re home now, Baby Bird,” he rasps against the inside of my wrist, my other hand by my side. “Things will be different here, it’ll be better.” It feels like a promise, but I’m unsure of what it means, and then he tells me, “I’ll be better.”

He stares down at me, and I am not breathing, unmoving, still and silent as he watches me, looking for something. He gives me nothing as to what it could be, though. Dipping forward, pressing my palm to his cheek, holding my hand there as he captures my lips with his.

It feels right. His tongue melding with mine. Our mouths moving in a softly violent collision. I feel a little like I’m dying when he breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to brush the tip of his nose across mine. And then he kisses me lightly, just a soft peck of his lips and I’m ruined.

Chapter29

Ava

Charlie’s arms bundle me against his bare chest, layers of rotting leaves crunching wetly beneath his boots. I have on a black t-shirt, the too-long sleeves rolled up to my knuckles, some sort of silky gym shorts that are tied tight at the waist and won’t really stay on. All of it feels too much, like maybe I’ll drown in the fabric, suffocate. It feels as though it swamps me, as it does, but it’s much more dramatic in my head.

Regardless, I won’t complain.

It’s chilly outside, in what feels like the middle of the night. And it feels kinda nice not to have a cold back. But being outside, breathing the fresh air I thought I had missed so much, smelling the wet leaves and hearing the rustling fir trees, feeling the dampness of rain in the air.

It all feels like it’s a little too much.

Arms looped around Charlie’s neck. Safe. Protected from anyone else. I stare up at the enormous purple brick house looming over us.

Three floors of darkened windows, slate grey frames with large-spaced cross-hatching through the glass. Tall and arch shaped with points, big enough to feel like they’re really doors that you could step right out of. Free fall until you hit the brick driveway below with a splat.

Charlie walks us right up to the huge front door, the same shade of grey as the window frames, wood, I think. It has steel grey knobs, a strange shaped knocker that looks as though it has deep-set eyes, but in the pitch of night, I cannot make out what it is.

Charlie’s one arm clutches me up higher, his now free hand bringing a large old fashioned key to the door, others on the same ring, the gentle jingling of them seems loud in the quiet of night. I want to ask where we are, whose house this is, if it’s safe.

I keep calm in his hold, trusting him. I don’t think he’s gifting me to anyone else. He promised me he wasn’t ever letting me go, but men are fickle, and they get bored. But I push thoughts of that aside and think logically about the now.

He has a key.

So it’s possible he owns the property, or is, at the very least, close with the person who does. He doesn’t hesitate in placing the key in the lock, turning it hard, his arm using a firm flick-like motion. I can hear bolts turning, sliding, whatever it is they do inside a door, and it’s opening. With his long fingers tight over the round handle, he pushes the heavy door wide. A soft, eerie creak of its hinges as he does. Like a haunted house.

I shiver as his arm comes back to my legs. Adjusting his solid hold on me, he flips my limbs over the crook of his elbow, effortless in the way he is so easy with carrying me.

He shoulders the huge door wide, the low creak growing louder. He steps inside, pulling me even closer as my arms drop from around his neck, allowing me to twist to see better.

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