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The world stands still for a moment as our gaze meets, his hand pressing lightly against me.
“You’re touching me,” I murmur.
“Is that okay?”
I want to scream from the rooftops that it’s the best thing since sliced bread, but I lower my gaze and smile. “Yes.”
I slide onto the back seat and across to the middle with Finn, surprising me by climbing in next to me. Archer takes the other side of the back seat and Owen in front.
“Bailey,” Archer says, his voice serious.
“I’m fine. Honestly, let’s just not. ’Kay?”
He nods and takes my hand. Finn doesn’t touch me again but stares contemplatively out of the window on the silent drive back to the penthouse close to the club.
I’m relieved when we finally enter the apartment, which is immaculate. The stark white sofa is like a beacon to me, and beckons me to fall onto it, my head lolling upon its soft cushions. I lie back, exhaustion pulling me down. The men tuck me up in a blanket and bring me hot tea. I cannot keep my eyes open; they feel too heavy. My mind drifts away, into a mist where nothing can touch me. Not the Society, nor Trish, nor my dad. Just oblivion. Blissful oblivion.
ChapterForty-Five
Bailey
My eyes widenin horror as I take in the reflection of a woman who stares back at me. She has Trish's blue eyes, her straight blonde hair, her small, upturned nose, and her beautiful face. I look away quickly, my heart pounding in my chest. I can't think about her. I can't. I’m determined not to let my thoughts drift to the last time I saw her alive.
Still, the images come unbidden, surrounding me. The way her face went pale and still, the way the pool of blood had spread out around her like a terrible halo of death. I swallow the lump in my throat and force my attention back to the task at hand.
The water feels cool and soothing on my face, washing away the tears I hadn't realized I’d been crying. I scrub away at my unmarred skin, desperate to erase any trace of Trish's memory. It's impossible; I know that. I can never forget her last moments, no matter how hard I try.
As I rinse away the soap and reach for a towel, I catch a glimmer of movement in the corner of my eye. I turn, expecting to be alone in the bathroom, but instead, I find myself face-to-face with a white rabbit. I almost laugh at the absurdity of the sight, but then I realize the rabbit has Trish's eyes.
My breath catches in my throat as the rabbit hops closer, and I step back, my feet slipping on the slick tile of the bathroom floor. I look down, and I’m falling in Trish’s blood.
The rabbit stares at me, its eyes wide and unblinking. I can feel the accusation radiating from its gaze. It's as if Trish is looking at me, seeing inside me, knowing the hatred I had for her, and thinks I did this to her.
I slowly reach out to touch the rabbit, but the moment my fingertips brush its fur, it disappears in a puff of air.
I stand there for a moment, trembling until I can no longer feel the ghost of Trish's presence in the room.
I turn away from the bathroom mirror, suddenly desperate to be away from these walls and back in my bedroom in my crummy apartment before I knew any of these people. I blink, and I’m there, dressed in a blue dress with a white apron over it, flat black shoes on my feet…
I inhale sharply, my eyes snapping open and locking onto the pure white ceiling above me. I can feel the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the enormous windows and the gentle chirps of the birds outside.
I groan and roll over onto my side.
Archer and Owen's laughter carries from downstairs, and I wonder what they find so amusing the day after Trish was killed.
By Finn.
She was killed by Finn to protect me.
The pain from the wounds on my stomach and back pulse through me as I slowly get out of bed, every movement causing a searing agony to course through my veins. I’m stiff from the time on the table yesterday; my shoulders feel like they’ve been wrenched out of their sockets and then popped back in but a bit skew.
If Archer thinks I’m going to work today, he has another fucking thing coming. I’m holing up here, not facing anyone until I can close my eyes and not see a fucking white rabbit with Trish’s eyes.
Creepy as fuck.
I should feel guilty, but I don’t.
And that scares me.
