Like prey, she stares at me, her eyes pleading. I squeeze her throat a little tighter and watch as the fear trickles into her blue eyes.
“Where did you get that bracelet?” I sneer, wanting to rip the answer right out of her.
Her eyes dart down to her wrist, and I can see her piecing the puzzle together. The only way she got that bracelet was to steal it from my sister.
“It’s not… it’s not what you think.” The words slip past her trembling lips, but I’m too far gone to give a shit. My thoughts shift, swarming like bees, and I want to destroy her, break her.
I could kill her. I should. My grip on her throat tightens, and I watch through the haze of destruction as her lips become blue, and fear, like I’ve never seen, overtakes her features.
She claws at my hand, her nails digging into my skin, her feet kicking at my body but never fazing me. I watch as tears slip from her eyes and slide down the apples of her cheeks.
She’s so fucking pretty when she cries. Too bad it’s all fake. I grit my teeth and smile, smile at her, and watch as the light in her eyes fizzles out.
The stupid dangling of the bracelet causes me to lose focus, and at the last second, I release Aspen. She falls to the floor, landing in a heap. Her heavy pants for oxygen fill the room, and I ignore her existence as I angrily grab her hand to take the bracelet off. She doesn’t fight, lift her head, or say a single word as I undo the bracelet and take a step back. The rage inside me is more powerful than it’s ever been in my entire life, and I’m glad she keeps her mouth shut because today, I might just kill her.
“Stay the fuck out of my way. Next time I get you alone, there will be bloodshed.” My booted feet slap against the floor as I leave the room, uncaring of what happens next.
Aspen is no longer my solution. She is the enemy, and I’ll make her pay for stealing from my sister.
36
ASPEN
Fear immobilizes you. It consumes you even when you don’t want it to. Every day I stay here, I become more afraid of what will happen next. Quinton is on a warpath, and he won’t stop until he’s destroyed me. I stay hidden in my room, too afraid that if I leave, I may run into him in the corridor. His parting words linger in my mind, and every time I close my eyes, I see him standing there, hovering over my bed, staring at the bracelet.
I wish I could explain how I got it. I know he thought I stole it, but I didn’t, and blind with rage, he couldn’t see past that.
Lying in bed, I stare at the door, waiting for something bad to happen. It’s only a matter of time. I can’t eat, sleep, or even shower. I’m looking over my shoulder even when I know there is no one else inside the room with me.
I’m freaking myself out, and I don’t know how to make it stop. More than that, my heart is aching because stupidly, I thought we were becoming something else. Not lovers, or even boyfriend and girlfriend, but maybe equals.
I know I should eat something, but I ignore my rumbling stomach. I’ve eaten very little, and hunger is finally catching up with me. Pressing my head into the pillow, I let my eyes fall closed and try not to think about Quinton rushing into the room to choke me.
The reminder of what he did sticks with me. I can still feel his fingers around my throat, still feel his boiling rage threatening to consume me.
He almost killed me. He could’ve, but for some reason, he didn’t. Probably so he could elongate my pain and fear.
The sound of a key card entering the door has my eyes opening and my body on high alert. My heart thunders in my chest, and I look for the nearest item that I can use as a weapon, but there is nothing. The door squeaks as it opens, and my heart sinks into my stomach when Matteo appears on the other side.
“Get out!” I order, my voice unrecognizable.
“Really? That’s the greeting you offer me after ditching me after the founders’ ball? I’d expect better from you.”
“How did you get in here?” I try to hide my fear and straighten my shoulders to make myself appear taller and stronger.
He smirks. “A key.”
“How did you get the key to my room?” I press, unable to hide the trembling of my lips. I know the answer. I don’t even have to ask, but I want him to speak the truth out loud. I need him to say it, so I can force myself to believe it.