Page 74 of Ghosts Don't Cry

The alley swallows me as I walk away. Each step feels like tearing off skin. My hands shake. Everything inside me screams to turn around, to take it back, to drop to my knees and beg.

But I keep walking.

Because that's what I do. I survive. Even when surviving means destroying the only thing I ever wanted to keep.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

LILY

I can’t stop shaking.The cold feels like razorblades against my skin but underneath it I’m burning. I need to go back inside. I can’t stay out here. But I can still feel him. His hands, his mouth, the bruising pressure of his fingers inside me, the way he tore me apart with nothing but touch and words that cut deeper than any blade.

Get it together.

How do you get it together when all the walls you’ve built crumble in minutes? When your body remembers things your mind tries desperately to forget?

I take a step away from the wall and almost fall, my legs too unsteady to hold me. My thighs ache, a deep weakness that has nothing to do with the cold. There’s a tremor to my hands as I smooth the front of my dress, fingers fumbling over twisted fabric that’s ridden up, exposing more skin than I’m happy with. My underwear is uncomfortable, damp and twisted, a constant reminder of what just happened.

Of what Ilethappen.

What did just happen?

I lift my fingers to my throat, touching the tender spots where his mouth was. The skin throbs under my touch, hypersensitive. I can feel each mark taking shape—his teeth, his lips, his claim. My shoulder aches where he bit down. When I press against it, pain flares and something sick and twisted in me wants to press harder just to feel it again.

The alley smells like garbage and rain andhim.That last part won’t leave. It clings to my skin, the smell of his cologne, his sweat, and something indefinably male that makes my stomach twist with want even now, after everything he said.

I press my fingers to my lips, trying to steady my breathing, but all it does is bring the memory back. His mouth on mine, the bruising force of his kiss, the way he took without any hesitation or fear. My lips are swollen and tender. I can taste blood where his teeth caught me.

That’s what sticks in my mind the most. His confidence in what he was doing.

The Ronan I knew wouldn’t have been like that. The boy from my past, the one who flinched away from touch, who held himself still until he was sure I wanted him, who kissed me like he was terrified I might change my mind? He’s gone.ThatRonan wouldn’t have pinned me against a wall, fingers inside me, body pressed against mine, and made me fall apart.

ThatRonan wrote poetry in stolen notebooks, and traced words into my skin. This one marks and claims, takes what he wants without asking … andgod help me, I let him. Iwantedhim to do it.

I suck in an uneven breath. My entire body feels wrong, sensitive and shaky, still caught between shame and desire.

This version of him,this man,is different. He’s more dangerous, confident and controlled.

The thought should horrify me, make me want to run, yet all I can think about is how good it felt to be claimed by him. Howright it felt to have his hands on me again, even when he was using them to hurt me.

A car passes by, its headlights lighting up the alley, and it dawns on me that I’m just standing here, staring at the wall where he had me pinned … where I came apart for him.

I have to move. I can’t stay out here. If I do, I’ll drown in … in whateverthisis.

My first step is cautious, but when my legs don’t buckle, I keep moving forward. Each step reminds me of what just happened—the ache between my thighs, the soreness, the phantom feel of his fingers still inside me. I’m sure my hair is a mess. I try to smooth it with shaking hands, but I can feel how tangled it is, knotted from his fingers. My lipstick is gone or smeared. I don’t have a mirror, but I can imagine what I must look like.

Thoroughly fucked.

Inallsenses of the word.

The door to the bar appears ahead of me. It swings open before I can push it, and a group of people spill out in a cloud of warmth and noise. Cassidy is still inside. So are Amy and Kate. I don’t really want any of them to see me like this, but disappearing now will just make things worse, and leave more questions and gossip opportunities. Cassidy will follow me home. Amy will sniff out weakness like blood in the water.

So, I take a deep breath and step inside. The heat of the bar hits me like a physical thing, too hot after the cold outside, too bright after the darkness of the alley. The music vibrates through my body, the bass thrumming in my chest where my heart is still racing. Conversations blend into white noise that makes my head spin.

I force myself to walk toward the booth, head held high, steps steady. No one watching will ever guess that my legs feel likethey might give out at any second. People turn to look as I pass, and paranoia claws at me.

Do they know? Can they tell? Can they see what happened written all over me?

Don’t fall apart.