Page 3 of Silent Truths

But it seemed far more likely that he was just drunk and a bit high and just wanted to get off, and I was the easiest target.

And fuck, that hurt. To think he’d used me like that cut deep.

Salem stepped into our room and began rummaging through the dresser for clothes. I swallowed thickly and stood from the bed, my fingers twisting in front of me. “Salem?—”

“Not now, Tor,” he growled, his shoulders tensing.

I flinched and swallowed thickly. “Salem, we need to talk.”

He grunted, still not looking at me as he pulled out a pair of sweats. “Nothing to fucking talk about.”

I took a step back. His words fucking cut deep. They hurt. I was bleeding all over the floor, and he didn’t even care.

“We have a lot to talk about, Salem,” I tried again, hating the pleading note in my voice. I just wanted him to talk to me.

He cut me a dark look that had me stumbling back onto the bed. He’d looked at plenty of people like that before—like they weren’t worth his time and to stop bothering him—but he’d never looked at me like that.

I swallowed thickly, tears burning behind my eyes.

“It was a fucking mistake, Tor,” he told me bitterly. My hands shook. Vomit crawled up my throat. Each word was another cut. Blood was pouring from me now, and he was standing in the forming puddle of red, not even caring. “Don’t fucking bring it up again.”

With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

I was spinning out of control. Everything hurt too much to cope with. My rock was gone. My anchor had detached from me, leaving me floating aimlessly in the ocean. Sharks circled, sensing prey. Their teeth were razor sharp as they ripped the flesh from my bones.

I couldn’t even bring myself to scream.

1

Salem

A YEAR AND A HALF LATER

I fucked up things… royally. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

The newest picture our publicist had posted on Tor’s social media had my heart sinking to my feet, just like every single picture before it. We looked so happy up on stage, singing together like we were madly in fucking love. Like so many of our fans believed us to be due to the story the record label wanted us to have because, apparently, our chemistry was “off the charts”.

But behind the scenes, I ignored Tor. And Tor, who had once begged for my attention, had once begged to fix things between us, now ignored me, too. We’d once been so fucking close that I couldn’t breathe without smelling him on my bed, on my clothes, on my fucking skin. And now…

Now the air was empty. Like it lacked oxygen. Every breath was a goddamn struggle without him.

I shouldn’t have hooked up with him in that goddamn bathroom. I’d known it would fuck everything up, but shit, the way his body had moved with mine, and then the way his tongue felt in my mouth, how he moved against me…

I’d been so fucking lost in him. Hadn’t been capable of sensible thought. All I’d been thinking was claim, take, fuck, and Tor. Tor. Tor. Fucking Tor.

I shouldn’t have given him the cold shoulder after. I should’ve talked shit out with him like a fucking adult. But instead, I’d done what I did best—I went inside my head, and I blocked him out in the process. And when he finally got up the nerve to confront me—nerve I knew it took a lot for him to have because Tor was just so damn soft—I’d cut him… deep. So damn deep.

The hurt in his eyes that day still haunted my fucking dreams.

I closed out the app on my phone and locked the device before shoving it into my pocket. Resting my head back against the couch, I closed my eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of the house. Everyone was asleep still. Couldn’t blame them. We’d been touring for fucking months—our first tour ever—and it was finally over. We had some time to rest. Tor could focus on writing songs for our next album, and in a couple of months, we would be back in the studio to record before prepping for our next tour.

Sighing, I stood up from the couch and walked to the room I was supposed to be sharing with Tor, though we hadn’t really shared it in over a year now. Not since that night. I now camped my ass out on the couch, only coming in here when I needed something of mine. I hadn’t slept in my bed in… fuck, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d sat on the damn thing.

It hurt too goddamn much to be in the same room with him. Living on the tour bus had been hell. I’d barely goddamn survived it. We’d planned for me and Tor to share a room, but every night, I crashed on the uncomfortable couch on the bus and Tor slept alone.

Tor wasn’t in the room when I pushed the door open quietly. His bed was empty, still made. I blinked in surprise. Where in the hell was he? Tor was never up this early, and if he had to be, he wasn’t even functioning enough to make his damn bed.

I quickly backed out of the room and began searching the rest of the house, but nope. He definitely wasn’t here. My heart lurched into my throat, worry and concern making my movements jerky. I pushed open the door to Dalton and Jesse’s room without knocking, unable to think past the pain constricting my lungs. Dalton sleepily lifted his head from his pillow, blinking at me.

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