Page 45 of Cash

“I’m good,” I lied. I wasn’t good. The monsters were waking up. I had to get back to my room. I couldn’t let them scream until I was alone.

At the top of the mountain, I scurried off the bike and held out my hand.

Cash ignored it and swung his leg over the bike. Standing in front of me, he lifted my helmet. I dropped my head, looking at the ground. I couldn’t let him see the monsters.

“Rosie, look at me.”

I shook my head. My hands went to the pockets of my jeans, and I kicked at the ground. “I need my key. You said if I went for a ride, you would give me my key.”

His hand went to my throat, his thumb tilting my chin up, and I looked to the side. The top of my head barely reached his shoulder.

“What are you hiding, Rosie?”

My eyes snapped to his. “I’m not hiding anything.”

God, I couldn’t stop lying to him. I was hiding everything. Who I was, why I was there. What I felt. There was nothing about me that was honest. But no one ever saw it.

Not until him.

His hand moved to the back of my head, and he leaned over me. I told myself he wanted to look at me eye to eye. But when he leaned in and his lips brushed mine, I gasped.

Cash took advantage of my surprise and deepened the kiss. He held me in place, preventing me from backing up. Not that I wanted to. I had never been kissed like this before.

I felt him. All of him. His fear, his anger, his desperation. It was all there in that one kiss. His lips fused over mine. His tongue explored my mouth like he was starving. Searching for something that had been missing.

He ended the kiss and pulled away. His eyes darted between mine, confusion evident in their depths, and something that looked like guilt. Then suddenly, resignation.

He stepped back and dug into his pocket, producing my key. He grabbed my hand and placed it in my palm, folding my fingers over it, making sure I didn’t drop it.

He let me walk away. Didn’t try to stop me or hold me there. He didn’t want me. He didn’t feel what I felt in that kiss.

Or maybe he did.

Maybe he felt everything, but it was too much.

Did he see the monsters inside me?

Did they cry out to him, begging him to walk away? To leave their prize alone. They wouldn’t share. They never did.

I gave him one last look. His face a blank mask to whatever he was feeling. Without a word, I went to my bike. The monsters had woken, and I had to hurry. I put on my helmet and climbed on.

With the turn of the key, the bike roared. It was nothing compared to the roar inside my head. They were screaming. They wanted out. And they wouldn’t wait for long.

When I was out of sight, I removed my helmet and hung it on the handlebars. Riding as close to the edge as I could, letting the branches rip into my skin, hoping to appease them until I got back to the motel.

Closing my eyes, I let them have me for just a moment before I opened them again, so I didn’t crash. I wasn’t suicidal. Dying meant leaving Thorne out there alone. And I would never do that.

I just needed to feel... something.

But the monsters kept them back. They wouldn’t let me feel without their compensation. They required a sacrifice.

I was the sacrifice.

My blood was the cost of my emotions. The price I paid to feel what others took for granted. It was my penance.

Back at the motel, I quickly stripped. Grabbing my knife—Thorne’s knife—I turned the water on hot. The cut wouldn’t be enough. Not with everything that happened today.

I sat on the floor of the tub. My legs stretched out in front of me. Running my fingers over the scars, I closed my eyes. Praying they would be satisfied but accepting they never would be.