Page 20 of To Love a Monster
Chapter Eight
Lila
Ibarely slept.Maybean hour.He’s been gone for two days now.No messages, no shadows behind the curtains.No warped possessive texts to wind their way under my skin like barbed wire.Just plain silence, like he vanished back into the dark that made him.And after getting that close to him, hearing his voice, it’s driving me insane.My mind refuses to quiet.It loops the same image over and over like a curse I can’t shake.His hand on my waist.His mouth a breath from mine.The look in his eyes.His name.
Nikolai.
I whisper it aloud like it’s sacrilege.Like if I say it too loud, he’ll appear.A summoning spell in three syllables.But now that I know it, I can’t unknow it.It’s burned into the backs of my eyelids, branded behind my ribs like he carved it there with the tip of a blade.
I try to shut my eyes and pretend to sleep, but all I see is that moment before he pulled away.That terrible, beautiful instant where the whole world was just the width of his mouth and how close it came to breaking me.And then he was gone.Just fuckinggone.I should be relieved.Grateful.Anything but this.
Yet here I am, drowning in the too-quiet dark with only the echo of his voice to remind me what it felt like to be seen that clearly.To be wanted like a drug, like an unholy fix.
I shove the blankets off, curl into myself like maybe I can contain it.This wanting, the shame, this fear that he won’t come back.And the deeper, dirtier fear that he will.The clock blinks 3:47.Red and insistent.I can’t keep doing this, can’t keep letting him take up all the air, all the space.All ofme.But I don’t know how to stop or how to make myselfwantit to stop.His name sits heavy on my tongue.Like a lie I told myself just to survive the truth of it.I say it again, quieter, letting it spill from my lips like a sin.
“Nikolai.”
The walls lean in like they want to smother me, but all I can think about is how close I came to losing myself in him.The scent of smoke, pine, and steel.The raw burn of his presence against my skin.It’s like I had just one hit of him and already I’m addicted.
The hours bleed together and I squeeze my eyes shut.Nothing about what I’m feeling makes sense. Maybe I pushed too hard, gave too much.Maybe he saw the way I crumbled under his touch and decided I wasn’t worth it.I don’t know what to do with this kind of wanting.I drag my nails across my ribs, try to scratch the feel of him out but it only makes it worse, only makes the ache louder, deeper.
Frustration builds as I think about how pathetic it is to sit and overthink—no, obsess over—this.He doesn’t get to do this to me.Doesn’t get to force his way in and brand his name across every inch of my skull, my body, and then vanish like a ghost.But he did, and the only thing more fucked up than being terrified because you’re always being watched is realizing how much you actually love it.Crave it.
****
Iroll over and grabmy phone.The screen flashes to life but there’s still nothing.I stare at it too long.Like maybe if I want it bad enough, the words will manifest.Like his obsession is something I can will back into being.But no.There’s only the echo of my own breath in this too-quiet house.I throw the covers off and the cool air bites at my skin.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to conjure something other than his face.But it’s like I can still feel his hand on my waist and see the hunger in his eyes.
The floor is cold under my feet, the morning light is cruel and invasive.I move through the room like I’m trying to escape my own skin.The walls feel too close, the ceiling too low.I’m coming apart and I hate myself for it.
I pick up the phone again, knowing damn well what I’ll see, or rather, what I won’t.It lights up, bright and accusing.No messages.No missed calls.No goddamn presence except my own pathetic longing.I almost throw it against the wall, almost watch it shatter like I’m afraid I might.But instead I just hold it and stare.
He told me not to let another man touch me.Said I’m his.Then he fucking vanished.I hate that I’m counting the hours, the minutes, the seconds since I almost kissed him, since I almost lost myself.
I throw the phone onto the bed and turn away, but there’s no escaping it.No outrunning the truth that snakes through every thought I try to have.I’m losing my mind waiting for him to come back, to pull me into the dark where I belong.To claim what he’s already marked as his.
But he’s gone.And maybe that’s the plan, to leave me wrecked and waiting and desperate for the leash to tighten.
The kettle clicks off and I pour my coffee.My fingers are wrapped too tight around the mug as steam curls into my face, but it doesn’t chase away the chill sitting in the back of my neck.I don’t drink it at the table.Instead, I move to the easel I left abandoned by the window.
