Love had scarred him. And until I knew how deep those scars went, I would stay quiet.
“Well?” he asked, shifting in the chair, impatience rising.
I spread my palms in surrender. I had no idea what to say. “That’s up to you.”
His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine. “You should know by now it isn’t up to me at all.”
“Well...it’s up to you to keep me safe then, regardless of the darkness inside you.”
He sucked in a breath, studying me. “You think I can control it? Control the filth inside my head?” He laughed once. “Because I don’t.”
Silence fell between us because, once again, I didn’t know what to say.
I could be positive and assure him that, yes, I believed he could control it, but in reality, who the hell knew if that was true.
“I’m not stupid, Kas.” I tossed hair over my shoulder, standing straighter. “I know parts of you will always be dangerous. Suppression has been your only tool at surviving what happened here, which has made you unstable.”
He tensed, coiling in the chair with power.
“I, eh...” I forced myself to keep going, not quite sure what I wanted to say or even how to word it. “While you were alone, trapped in this valley, I can see why you never worked through your trauma. Why you chose to bury it instead of face it because no one was here to help you. But...I’m here now. I’m strong enough to listen to what you endured. Use me to be free of it. Tell me. Allow those memories to finally be free.”
“Stop—”
“Who knows, maybe that’s all it would take to lighten that darkness. It could—”
“Stop talking.” He suddenly pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “You’re making my headache worse.”
I let silence fall for a few heartbeats before murmuring, “If you tell someone. If you willingly welcome memories instead of pushing them away, maybe they won’t have power over you anymore, and you won’t have pieces of your life taken away without your consent.”
He snickered, his tone full of snow. “And I suppose you want me to give you every detail, huh? Every rape, every punishment? As if.” He balled his hands. “That will never happen. You’d run away screaming.”
“Or I’d welcome you with open arms.”
He froze. “I’ve told you before, but I’ll tell you again, don’t push me. I can’t promise I won’t push back.”
I stared him dead in the eyes. “You won’t raise a hand to me again. I assure you of that.”
His shadowy gaze turned darker. “Is that a threat?”
I arched my chin. “It’s a promise. Your mind might not remember what occurred last night, but your heart does.”
He bristled, fear as well as anger etching his face. “And I suppose you’re about to tell me that I confessed I’m in love with you, and you’re everything I ever wanted, and if we had two white horses, we’d ride off into the sunset together.”
“Would that be so bad? To feel those things?”
His nostrils flared, his temper building. His body gave clear evidence he wasn’t ready. He might never be ready to talk, and that was the awful choice I’d made by falling for him.
I looked past him to the windows where the sun shone, promising fresh hope the moment we stepped outside of this evil, haunted house. Now was not the time to talk about things we couldn’t fix. Now was the time for action. For preparation. For chores to keep our hands and minds busy.
“Get up.” I put my hands on my hips. “We’re leaving.”
“What?” His head cocked as if I was mad. “Where the hell are we going?”
“I’m ready to help you.”
He scowled. “With what exactly?”
“With survival.” I tilted my head. “Or are you forgetting that too? If you remember the foyer and the knife, surely you remember your ultimatum that we are partners now. Relying on each other to survive and all that. You listed all the jobs that needed to be done before—”
“Winter arrives.” He ran a hand through his long hair, flinching as he used his broken arm.
A flair of annoyance ran through me. “You really shouldn’t keep using that arm. Punching the wall last night probably didn’t do it any good.”
He went deceptively still. “I punched the wall?” His eyes strayed to the bloodstained wallpaper as if he trusted answers from a building far more than he trusted me. I waited for him to ask more questions. But in the end, he huffed and said nothing.
“It needs to be in a sling,” I muttered, breaking the tension. “That would force you to rest it.”
He sniffed. “If we’re finally prepping, I don’t have time for a sling.”
“I’ll do most of the work. You only need to teach—”
“Ha.” He stood, swaying a little. With a slight shake of his head, he stayed upright. “You’re not doing anything without my help.” He rolled his eyes, wincing as he did. “Do you think our roles have switched so much that you’re the one in charge here?”