Cautiously, I walk up the stairs, toward the light coming from a room halfway down the hall. This place is a far cry from my trailer. It’s elegant and clean and tasteful, but it lacks any warmth whatsoever. It’s cold, like a museum.
Turning the corner into Allie’s room, it’s time to kick myself all over again. There is nothing on the walls, none of the expensive furnishings. Just four white walls, a bed and dresser that doubles as a desk. A stack of textbooks.
She looks back at me over her shoulder, as if judging my reaction, and I keep my features schooled, though I’m dying on the inside. “What can I do?” I ask.
“How long do we have?”
“As long as you need.”
It’s physically painful not to pull her into my arms when I’m standing this close and she’s battered. Sad. Yet full of more inner strength than I’ve ever witnessed in another human being. I’ve been lucky to be in her presence. I’ve squandered the fucking right. And if she allows me back in, I’ll never do it again.
It’s probably, definitely, too much to hope for. Being allowed back in.
She doesn’t even look sure about having me in her room.
Let alone her heart.
“Um…” She closes her eyes to concentrate, a familiar mannerism I’ve seen her pull in class countless times. “There is a duffel bag in the hallway closet. Can you just stuff anything into it from the bathroom that looks useful?”
Ask me to bring you a unicorn horn. I’ll find a way to do it. “Sure.”
We work in silence, Allie yanking things out of drawers and adding them to the duffel bag, which I’ve left open on the floor. I add toiletries from the bathroom, and once it’s zipped, I wait, watching her hesitate in the doorway.
“Allie?”
Conflicted aqua eyes zip to mine. “I can’t just leave, can I?”
“You’re not safe here, baby,” I say softly, trying to keep the residual rage at bay, because it’s the last thing she needs. Not to mention she’s had her fill of negativity from me. No more. “How long…how long?”
She shrugs jerkily. “My mom left when I was in seventh grade. Ever since then, it’s gotten worse and worse. Although I never had a chance to talk to her about what happened behind closed doors, you know? Maybe it was always this bad, just for someone else. I don’t think a person can evolve into a monster. It’s inside them.”
“I don’t know,” I say through stiff lips. “I evolved into one, didn’t I?”
That gives her pause, forms a line between her brows. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” She starts to walk past me, stops, standing close enough to fill my nose with lavender. “He told me if I ever spoke to you ever again, he would hurt me. Ruin you, have you evicted. Make sure you never got hired in town. I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings, if that’s what happened.”
That revelation rocks me to the soles of my feet, setting fire to the organ pumping brokenly in my chest. “Jesus, Allie. You were protecting me? And I…I tortured you for it?” I twist the neck of my T-shirt, trying to claw out the flames, but it doesn’t work. They’ll be blazing for all eternity. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
She glances at the doorway, then back at me, eyes closed again in that way that says she’s thinking. “All I want from you now is a ride out of here, okay? And on Monday morning, you’ll stop.” Her eyelids lift, the depth of her pleading slaying me, ruining me far worse than her father ever could. “No more bullying, Moore. If you’re really sorry, you’ll do that for me.”
Christ.
I couldn’t say one more single shitty thing to her if my life depended on it. Put me at knifepoint and I’d rather get stabbed clear through than bully this girl for one more second. But I’m highly, painfully aware that with an end to the bullying comes an end to the possessiveness. No more scaring off guys who show interest in her. No more getting close enough in class to count the hairs on her head. And to tell the truth, I’m pretty fucking worried I don’t know how to give those things up completely. Don’t think I can physically do it. This obsession with Allie isn’t something I can cut off. A limb would be easier to sever.
But my hesitation is causing her forehead to pucker. If I don’t agree to, essentially, let her go…she’s not going anywhere with me. And that means her safety won’t be guaranteed. I need it to be.
“No more bullying,” I say, finally.
A moment later, I follow her out of the room and down the stairs, trying desperately to count the hairs on her head before I no longer have the chance.