Page 72 of Darling Venom
When I shut my eyes, I still felt the heat.
/> “Then I heard Leah’s voice. She called for me. Not for Mom and Dad. For me. She was standing at the end of the hall, near the stairway. I guess she went inside and wanted to see who she could save. She said she could see past the flames because her end of the hallway was clearer, and that I could run through it.” My voice broke for the first time. “I was so scared.”
Tate let his head fall into his hands, his elbows on his knees.
“She begged me to run into her arms until the fire became too much. Then, she just jumped into the flames to drag me out by force. She put her coat around me and protected me with her arms, shielding my body with hers as we ran through the blaze, down the stairs, and out of the house. The wall of the hallway collapsed onto her. It stamped her entire right side with a purple scar.”
I remembered the screams.
The tears.
The way I’d frozen. Zoned-out.
Leah had to drag me with all of her strength.
I remembered the wall crumpling against my sister. Her body pressed against mine. Her weight searing my right leg with pain.
I’d been rocking my leg back and forth ever since. A nervous impulse I couldn’t get rid of when the weight of my Big T weighed me down.
“As soon as we got out of the house, we both realized she was literally on fire. She rolled on our damp front lawn to put herself out while I screamed hysterically. But it was too late. The fire devoured half her face. And to this day…”
I took a shaky breath, closing my eyes to stop the tears from falling and moving on from the mark I’d left on Leah’s face. “Dad took the batteries out of the smoke detectors when they started beeping and forgot to replace them, so we got very little from the insurance company. We were lucky to get anything at all.”
I cleared my throat. “The house was gone, and we moved from Brooklyn to the Bronx. Leah dropped out of college to support us, and instead of becoming this hot-shot marketing executive with a prestigious degree like she’d dreamed, she went to beauty school and became an aesthetician. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but she never wanted it. I think she learned it because she became fascinated with ways to hide her face.”
I paused. “Phil, by the way, took a hike soon after. He’s dating someone else now. Their mutual childhood friend.”
“Asshole,” Tate muttered. I nodded. “At least she managed to save you. The alternative, of not getting to you in time, would’ve left a scar that is way worse. I know, because I’m there. I’m there every day, and it’s Hell on earth. To search for a face in every crowd you push through, knowing you will never see it again.”
I don’t know how it happened, but I let my face collapse onto his shoulder. He cupped the back of my head, and I let out a ragged, tearless howl. It was ugly and gutting and not at all something I would feel comfortable doing in front of a stranger.
Tate’s arms wrapped around me. It transported me back to the hugs Kellan used to give me; I could count all of them on one hand.
In Kellan’s arms, I’d felt like I was wrapped by a thin film.
In Tate’s arms, it felt like nothing could touch me. Not even death.
He was strong and big and tall and impossibly invincible. Only I knew that, inside, he was anything but.
I didn’t know how long we sat like that. It was definitely not a comfortable position. But we seemed to be frozen in time when the door to Kellan’s room creaked and a face poked inside.
Just the face.
I didn’t need to ask who this was. I recognized him from the back sleeve of The Imperfections.
Terrence Marchetti.
Had I not known what an asshole he was, I would’ve been star-struck.
“I… I thought… I mean…” He looked around us as Tate slowly peeled his arms from me. “Well, fuck me. Look at this place.”
Reality descended on me like a cloud, slowly and with a chill. I realized as we untangled from one another that I was nestled between Tate’s legs. We were a ball of misery, arms locked together, my head buried under his chin, and it might have looked more intimate than it was.
“Terry.”
“Tate.”
“Get the fuck out,” Tate ordered flatly.
