Page 11 of Where the Dark Things Bloom

Gloomsbury Manor was fifteen minutes away, the same fifteen minutes I used to run from. Now, I walked them back.

I took a deep breath, eyes shut, memories flashing in again. The road, the path, all too familiar.

Two days after my birthday,July 2014.

I had a small backpack I kept hidden under the bed. I even saved some leftovers from lunch, just in case. I packed them along with a bottle of water. The plan was simple:wait until everyone was asleep and leave.But that’s hard to do when the windows have bars and the doors are always locked. Still, I knew I had to try.

I waited for midnight, lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling wallpaper. It had started peeling at the corners again. No matter how many times Dad brought someone to fix it, it always came back. They blamed it on isolation. I knew better. Something was wrong with this place.

A soft knock came at the door. I didn’t move. Just turned to the side, pretending to sleep. The door creaked open. I heard the footsteps. I knew they werehis.I always knew his steps.

He shut the door behind him. Sat down on the bed. Then lay next to me. His arm wrapped around me, pulling me close. My heart was pounding so loud I thought it would give me away.

When you have no one, and someone who is forbidden touches you like you matter, your body betrays you. Your heart drinks it in. Your mind sins in silence while your lips stay still. And we had each other—because we had no one else.

“You won’t leave me,” he whispered like he already knew.”You’ll never leave me.”

His mind was broken—just as much as my heart was when I lied, “Never.” Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at the wall. I bitmy lower lip, nerves twisting inside me, then turned to face him—met his dark eyes.

“Promise me,” he said, wiping my tears with his thumb. “Promise. Me.”

“I promise,” I whispered, another tear sliding down.

He kissed my forehead, pulling me closer. “I have only you, Trouble. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” I said, wrapping my arms around him like it was the last time I ever would.

“Then why does it feel like I already lost you?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I bit my lip again, our eyes locked. I couldn’t lie this time—and he knew it. And instead of begging me to stay again, he asked, “What was your birthday wish?”

“A kiss,” I whispered, eyes closing, the tears still coming.

And just before I opened them, his lips touched mine. His hands pulled me in, his mouth moved against mine, slow and deep, his tongue tasting the words I never said. He kissed me like I belonged to him. Maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to. If I stayed, it would be for him.

It was wrong. All of it. My body betrayed me, but I couldn’t stop. I pulled him closer, wrapped my leg around his hip, fingers tangled in his hair—I couldn’t stop.

He stole my first kiss. But I wanted him to take it.

Then the door burst open. Dad.

He yelled something. I didn’t move. Dorian didn’t either. He kept kissing me like time had frozen. And maybe I wanted it to.

“Get off your sister!” Dad roared, already unbuckling his belt.

I heard the snap of leather and the whistle of air. Then it struck Dorian’s back.

He gasped against my lips, finally pulling away. He still held my hand.

Dad yanked him off me. Dorian hit the floor hard. The belt came down again. Again. The fabric of his shirt tore, his skin breaking. I screamed, throwing myself at them, trying to protect him. But the belt turned on me too.

“Ezekiel punishes sinners, and you have sinned!” Dad shouted, the belt gripped tighter, lashing across my body.

All I could see were Dorian’s eyes. And all he saw were mine. My tears, my screams as the leather bit into me.

He grabbed me, spun me around, and held me tight, shielding my body with his own.

“I got you, Trouble,” he whispered.

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