Page 44 of Temptation
My body had a mind of its own, and within seconds, I was on the other side of the room, ready to take my car keys. The sound of a car pulling in front of the house pulled me back from my reverie. I sharpened my ears, trying to hear who it was, and that’s when I heard it.
Her voice—high pitched, almost childlike, happy, and safe.
She was safe, I told myself.She was home.
But that demon whispering in my ear ever since I was a little boy grinned.But she wasn’t alone. She was probably with him. She sought him out, leaving you all alone. She will only ever need him. You’re nothing, Dylan. Nothing. You’re a failure. You always were, and you’re going to fail her too. They’re going to take her away from you.
“No!” I yelled as my fist connected with the wall, leaving an indentation on the white surface.
My chest heaved, my hand hurt, but none of it could compare with the pain that sliced through me when the door opened, revealing her tear-stained face.
“Dylan!” she shrieked and ran over to me. It took me a moment to see the blood. Took me even longer to realize that her hands kept touching me, going over my chest, my arms, my hands. Her blond hair was tied in a messy bun on top of her head. She still wore the same clothes as last night, and I leaned down, drinking in her scent; but it was wrong.
She smelled like him. She smelled like Ash Crowell. She smelled like betrayal, and the pain in my hand became nothing compared to the pain of my heart breaking.
Skylar started pulling me toward the kitchen, leading me by the hand, and I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to figure out her angle.
What the fuck was she doing?
Why did she come back?
It was obvious that she didn’t want me. Obvious that she didn’t want this life with me. And even though I tried to understand, I couldn’t. She knew we weren’t related. She knew we weren’t brother and sister, yet she still didn’t want me.
She looked at me like the monster they always told me I would be, and she was the only one I prayed would see me in a different light.
I wasn’t a monster.
I was their creation.
“Why did you do that, Dy,” she asked, her eyes slowly filling with tears. “Why would you hurt yourself like this?”
She expected an answer; something, anything at all, but my throat didn’t work. My body refused to answer because she was the reason. What was I supposed to tell her? That I would rather kill myself than live without her?
That would end up in such a pretty way. I could already see her hightailing away from here as fast as she could. Instead, I just laid my head on top of hers, letting her tend to me. Her touch was like a balm for my tormented soul. Like a perfect drug.
Her scent, even mixed with his, intoxicated me. I closed my eyes and breathed easier with her around. It was always like this, ever since we were kids. Ever since my father brought her to us, my life was easier with her around.
The demons were quieter because they liked her as well. My scars throbbed less, and the heavy weight lying on my chest didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.
And it was all because of her.
“Where were you?” I murmured, almost afraid to ask, but I had to know. I needed to know even if it killed me.
She busied herself with my hand, washing away the blood covering my knuckles. With soft touches, she pressed against the splintered flesh, but I didn’t flinch. I did nothing but stare at her, waiting for the answer.
“Little One?” I asked again, the unknown eating at me. Maybe I was a masochist, but not knowing was worse than suspecting.
The light in the kitchen flickered, shadows played on her pretty face, and the sorrow and pain etched into every single pore of her being, and I was afraid that it was all because of me.
“Why did you come back?” I went in a different direction, wanting to hear her voice. “Please,” I begged and pressed my nose into her hair. “Just tell me.”
“I-I,” she stammered. “I can’t.”
Her hands trembled, tending to my own, and even though I could only see her profile, I saw the regret written all over her face. “I can’t tell you because…” She took a deep breath. “Because I don’t want to hurt you.” The first sob rocked through her body and my hand slipped from hers, falling onto the sink. “I don’t want to hurt your heart, and if I tell you where I’ve been, I’m afraid I’ll do just that.”
She lifted her blood-covered hand and wiped away the stray tear from her cheek, smearing her cheeks with the crimson substance.
“God,” she groaned and turned the water on again. “I’m making a mess.” She laughed, but there was no happiness in it. There was only fear, only regrets, and I swallowed hard, overthinking again.
