Page 136 of Let Me In

The first smack there has me gasping. Not from sound, but from sting.

It lights something up. Raw and deep. I jolt, try to shift away. But he’s already there, hand firm at my back.

My fingers dig deeper into the cushion, but I’m still trying to be quiet. Still trying to stay small.

“You heard me on the phone,” he says, each word deliberate, voice darker now. “You heard me tell you not to approach that car.”

Another swat. Sharp.

“You heard me say stay back.”

I bite down on my lip.

“But you didn’t.”

His voice isn’t angry. It’s wrecked—a rough edge to it, like it caught in his throat before it could make it out. The breath he draws is slow and heavy, as if he's wrestling it all back down.

Like this hurt him, too. His jaw was tight when I turned my head just enough to see him—eyes darker, rimmed with something fierce and shining. Like he’d swallowed every sharp word he wanted to say and left only the ache behind.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmurs. “Before I ever really got to keep you.”

And that…

God.

That’s what starts to undo me.

He shifts lower again, striking the backs of my thighs. My hips twist, my breath stutters.

I want to run. I want to stay.

I want to crack.

“I’m not doing this to scare you,” he says. “I’m doing it so you remember.”

Another swat. I sob—but quietly. Into the cushion.

“So next time—if there is a next time—you stop and think about this.”

Another.

“About me.”

I can’t breathe.

“I won’t lose you, Emmy.”

That last swat—

It’s what opens me. Not because it hurt more, but because of what he said.

I won’t lose you.

Before I ever really got to keep you.

God.

The truth of it slips in like a blade between ribs. Gentle, but final.

---