Page 30 of Tracing Holland

My pulse quickensas I approach my room and see a figure seated against my door.I immediately tense when I recognize him and brace for the inevitable.I’m in no mood for it, not when Holland and I just had this same conversation a second ago.

“What are you doing, man?”Wes hisses as I reach my door.

“Going into my room,” I toss back casually, slipping my key into the slot.I’m beyond pissed when he follows me inside and lets the door clatter behind him.“What areyoudoing?”I spit.

“You know what I’m talking about!”he returns, ignoring my question.

“No, actually I don’t.Get out of my room,” I snap, angry but trying to stay calm.I’m not going to let an asshole like Wes Alton goad me into a stupid battle over a woman.After everything I’ve been through, there’s no way in hell I’m going down like that.

“She’s a big girl.She can make her own decisions,” I say.I know that’s not helping, but I’m not the type to back down.

“Yeah, maybe, but she makes bad decisions.You know why?Because she’s good, and trusting, and wants to believe other people are like her.But they’re not.They’re fucking animals, and I’m not going to stand by and watch them tear her apart!”

My glare turns hostile.I can feel the old rage burning, that destructive fire that will leave us both in ashes.“Get out of my room, or I’m calling security.I’m not kidding, Wes!And if they’re not fast enough, I’ll remove you myself!”

His eyes are just as hot, but he begins backing toward the door.“I know what you are,” he hisses.“Youknow what you are.Everyone knows what you fucking are and knows you have no business breathing the same air as her.If there’s any shred of decency left in you, you’ll leave her the fuck alone and go prey on some needy fangirl instead!”

I freeze.I’m glad he leaves on his own right then because I can’t move.I stare at the door for a long time, my heart racing, pulse pounding, nausea coursing through me.

I’m devastated by his words, furious, but mostly because he’s right.Because deep down there’s the part that agrees with him and is always waiting to claw its way back up into my consciousness.Triggers.Triggers.Shit!Fuck!

I drop to the edge of my bed and rake my hands into my hair.Triggers.It’s just a trigger.It’s just…I’m not….I am!God, I am!I’m a disease.I’m going to destroy Holland, like I destroyed Elena, like I destroy everyone else.Callie, Casey, I’m going to erase them all with my insidious infection.

I’m pulling at my hair so hard now I’m having trouble focusing on anything but the pain.It’s so beautiful, the pain.I love how it takes away from the worse pain that I can’t handle.I clench my eyes shut and focus on that for a moment.Pulling harder when my brain starts to adjust to the agony.So hard, I actually think I pull some out.Then, it all stops, transforming into something else.

I draw in a ragged breath and collapse on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.My phone is buzzing with texts.Probably Callie or Casey asking about dinner.Holland making sure we’re cool after our conversation.Kenneth reminding us about some minor bullet point on an appendix no one saw or remotely cares about.

I take my phone and shove it in the drawer of the nightstand.Tonight, I’m alone.Just me and the pain.Just the brutal quarantine of this vile infection.

The battlewith myself does not go well.By the following morning I’m exhausted from my fitful sleep and tormented thoughts.I had ignored a few knocks on the door since locking myself inside, and turned off my phone when the constant buzzing finally pushed me over the edge.

I’m actually somewhat surprised no authorities were called, or at least a hotel manager to come inspect the room for a body.But Holland must have assured them I was very much alive and stable when she released me back inside.

I don’t feel like getting up, I don’t feel like doing anything, which is why I know I absolutely have to do one thing.I retrieve the phone from my nightstand and brace myself as I turn it on.Sure enough, the display floods with texts and missed calls, but I don’t bother with them.That’s not what I need right now.I search through my contacts, find the name, and place the call.It’s a little early for her, but I’m hoping she’ll be willing to take my drama anyway.

She does.

“Luke, I’m glad you called.How are you?”she asks, and the concern in her voice dissolves every bit of strength left in my own.

“Not good,” I manage, the tears filling my eyes as I try to blink them away.God, I’m so pathetic.The anger returns, and I’m grateful for that at least.I’d rather hate myself than pity myself.

“What’s going on?Tell me about it.”

I suck in my breath.I don’t know exactly.I just know whatever it is can’t continue or I’ll lose myself again.I slid far last night and I’m still spiraling.

“I had a really bad night,” I whisper.I hate that it comes out in a whisper.“Fucking awful,” I add, firmer this time.It sounds forced, and I know she’ll know I’m trying to cover up my weakness.She’s really good at what she does.

“I can hear in your voice it was a bad night.Are you able to identify any…”

“Triggers.Yeah, a fucking train-wreck of a trigger.”

“Ok, that’s a start.Why don’t you tell me a little about that.Can you see that maybe you’re using some exaggerated language?”

I clench my fist.I like my train-wreck metaphor.I hate when she takes them away from me.“Fine.Not a train-wreck, but it was pretty damn close.”

“What happened?”

I sigh.“I don’t know.It’s a long story.”

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