Page 32 of Saint Céline
“And today I’m more certain.”
“Good.”
He moved toward the door.
Only then did panic flare through me again.
“You can’t just leave.”
He paused and looked back.
I did not know what I meant. I only knew that the thought of him disappearing into the dark after doing this felt unbearable. Like he had cut open a wound and left me responsible for stitching it shut.
“What do you want, Selena?” he asked.
I could feel Thad sleeping beside me. I could feel the sheet twisted in my hands. I could feel every version of myself watching from somewhere inside my chest.
I said nothing.
Vincent’s expression did not change.
“That’s what I thought.” He smirked.
Then he opened the bedroom door without a sound and left.
I sat there for several seconds, unable to move. The apartment remained silent. Thad slept while the rain continued to fall. Eventually, I reached for my phone with trembling fingers and turned on the flashlight. I searched the bedroom, then the hallway, then the living room with one hand pressed against my stomach as if I could hold myself together by force.
Nothing. No sign of him. The front door was locked. I checked it twice. Then a third time.
When I returned to the bedroom, Thad was still asleep exactly as I had left him. I stood beside the bed and looked at him. He had not protected me. He had not even woken. I knew that was not fair to him. He could not have known when I made every effort to stay quiet. But fairness had never saved anyone.
I climbed back into bed slowly and lay rigid beside him until dawn bled grey through the windows.
Thad stirred around six and rolled toward me, warm and heavy with sleep. “You okay?” he mumbled.
I looked at the ceiling. “Yeah,” I said.
He kissed me again and fell back asleep. I stared past him toward the empty armchair by the window. By the time Thad fell asleep again, I had already made up my mind.
I would not break up with him. I would not move closer to Vincent. I would not let Professor Moreau peel my life apart just because he had decided he wanted to see what was underneath. There were doors men like him should not open. And if he kept reaching for mine, I would find a way to make him regret it.
9
Céline
By the time I left Thad’s apartment, the rain had finally stopped, and Blackwater looked almost innocent in the pale morning light. The harbour sat under a thin veil of mist with boats rocking gently against the docks, their ropes creaking softly in the quiet, while the streets still shone silver beneath a sky that could not decide whether it wanted to clear or collapse into rain again.
Thad walked me downstairs half-asleep, his hair messy and his sweater pulled on backwards, rubbing one hand over his face as he asked if I was sure I did not want him to drive me.
I told him I could use the walk even though the cold pressed through my coat and settled deep in my bones, the same bones that still remembered the way Vincent’s mouth had moved between my legs only hours earlier while Thad slept peacefully beside me.
He studied me for a second, but not closely enough. That had always been Thad’s way. He looked at me the way people looked at expensive things they already owned, with pleasure and pride but without any real curiosity.
“You were weird this morning,” he said, and I smiled faintly, telling him I had not slept well.
“Is this about Katherine?” he yawns.
I thought about Vincent’s tongue sliding through my folds, about how my body had clenched and shaken in the dark while my boyfriend remained completely unaware
