Page 262 of His To Erase
My hands shake as I press my palms to my eyes, willing the tears to stop. If I start crying again, I don’t know if I’ll stop this time.
I climb off the bed, which takes more effort than it should. My legs feel like they’re filled with sand, and my stomach growls so loud I flinch.
You’d think a psychopath trying to court you with violence and wine would at least remember to feed you every day, but no.
Apparently, starvation is now part of the vibe.
I walk to the door and press my palm to it like it might suddenly open with the power of loneliness and carbs.
I knock once, then again.
“Heeey Silent Bob,” I call out. “Any chance I could get a bagel and a therapy session? Maybe a cookie if you’re feeling generous?”
Nothing.
Dick.
I crouch down and look through the crack of the door, and see a pair of shiny, black boots.
“Hey, Bootsy,” I whisper. “Are you alive out there? Tap twice if you’ve got a conscience.”
Still nothing.
I lean my head against the doorframe and sigh. I thought for sure I could break him by now, but no matter how much I try, he never even cracks a smile.
“God, you’re not even going to pretend I’m a person, huh? Just… a body to lock up and parade around when he’s feeling romantic.”
I step back, flipping him off through the door.
“Cool. Super empowering.”
I turn toward the window, and something catches my eye. I can see Frank walking over to his car. He’s talking to someone but his posture is all business. He gets in the back seat, and the car pulls away.
I wait five minutes.
Then ten.
He doesn’t come back.
I move to the closet, stripping out of the black dress like it’s trying to eat me alive. I toss it into the corner without looking back and head for the bathroom.
He’s gone. Which means it’s finally safe to shower without imagining him standing just outside the door, about to burst in. There’s no way in hell I’m getting naked while he’s home. I’d rather marinate in my own anxiety.
Steam rises thick around me until I can barely breathe, but I don’t care. I just stand there, letting the water hit me hard enough to sting. Maybe if I let it burn long enough, it’ll scald the part of me that’s starting to give up.
I tilt my head back and let the water pound against me until my fingers go numb and my skin turns blotchy. I need to figure out how to get out of here. I need a new plan. I don’t know what he’s going to do with me, and I really don’t want to find out.
By the time I step out, the mirror is completely fogged. My skin’s flushed pink and my hair’s a mess, but I do feel a little better.
Honestly, right now, that counts as a win.
I wrap myself in a towel and pad back into the room, only to find something on the floor. It’s not food, unfortunately. But it’s a little piece of paper.
My pulse spikes.
I move quickly to go grab it, like if I don’t hurry, it’ll vanish.
It’s just a piece of folded notebook paper. But the second I open it, the world shifts.
