Page 57 of Moth
“Sorry?” His gaze hardens, and I have to fumble for my bag as a woman walking past eyes my shaking fingers. For once, Branden is too fixated on me to care how he looks or sounds. Unrestrained, his voice deepens, touching on a growl. “You remember what happens when you act selfish, Hannah? The trouble you cause? What you make me do?”
A chill washes over me.I remember.
Memories too horrific to write down, at least in explicit terms. Instead, they lurk in prose and symbolism, caged in unsaid meaning.Freedom’s price paid with the blood of another…
That phrase, in particular, weighs down one page in my journal. I’m holding it now, balancing my bag on my lap, but the thick pages don’t impart the same sense of comfort I’m used to finding. I have to grasp for something else, nestled at the very bottom of the knitted material. Something small and firm sporting a roaring creature emblazoned on its surface.
“I love you,” Branden says, his expression softening. “But sometimes it feels as though you don’t love me. As though you don’t respect me. Hannah?”
I’m on my feet without realizing it, scrambling from the booth. “I…I have to go to the bathroom,” I stammer, racing to explain my own actions, but deep down, I’m just as puzzled as he seems to be.
What am I doing?
Not suppressing. Not relying on instinct. I’m not enduring—I’m running.
“Hannah?” He sits forward as I snatch my bag. “Do you need your purse to go to the bathroom?”
“I…I’m on my period. I’ll be back.” My heart pounds as I weave my way through the aisles too quickly for him to follow. The bathroom is at the back of the restaurant, but I seem to be heading in the wrong direction. Toward the front, past the hostess stand…
Out.
My speed picks up as I meld into a crowd of giggling partiers crossing the street. I can’t stop. Panting, I keep going, scurrying from block to block until my neighborhood is entirely in the distance.
