Page 20 of Hide From Me

“You’re all set,” David calls from the back, jolting me from my thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, I round the greasy metal counter and walk through the employee exit. In moments like this, I realize how highly people in our faction, including myself, regard our status. I navigate the space as if I know it inside and out, without a care in the world. Maybe I’m just as selfish and greedy astheyare—not my faction, nor even the other teams we associate with—but my mother, my grandfather.

David tosses the keys, and they jangle against my hand as I catch them. For a second, I stare at them like they’re a loaded weapon.

I’ve never begged for anyone–not once–but that night, with her moans echoing behind that gag between her teeth, I gave everything and by doing so I’m afraid I might have scared her. I’ve never wanted to be the monster they were but maybe I already was, and taking her like that just helped me see it.

Slipping into the driver seat, I start the engine, and the moment the vibrations kick through the frame, something inside me coils tight. The leather groans under my grip as I press my palm to the wheel, trying to slow the thunder building in my chest.

It’s coming.

Sweat beads at my temple. I try to roll my neck and breathe through it, but the images come anyway.

Hair like fire sprawls across the floor, now darkened from an orangish hue to blood.I always wondered where my hair color came from.

My jaw clenches as I suckin a breath through my nose, desperately trying to push the image away, but it clings to me. It's been doing that a lot lately. I attempt to ground myself, focusing on something tangible, something real—but even the faintest trace of her scent on the passenger seat—vanilla mixed with something I can never quite pinpoint—makes it worse.

A gurney is pushed past, its scent wafting from behind the sheet as I hide by the morgue.Another one joins it. How many family members will I have to watch come down here?

I blink rapidly, but the light poles blur past the windows like ghosts. I'm not even registering the road anymore. My foot presses harder on the gas. I can’t breathe. It's as if Caspian is on my chest again, pinning me, choking me in one of his damned night terrors.

My phone starts to vibrate, and I fumble to answer it, trying to keep the wheel steady despite the tremor in my bones.

“Goddamn, ’bout time. Do you know what time it is?” Sam’s voice comes through the line, grounding me like a slap to the face. I can’t respond.

It's strange how many people who aren’t family can make me feel like they are. Sam may be this brooding hunk of muscle that intimidates anyone, but just hearing him makes everything else fade away, blurring metal bullets into spoons and red liquid into water on a table.

“Where is he?” Caspian crackles through the line, replacing the tightness in my chest with the warmth I always felt when walking on the beach with our mom.Ourmom. Not the woman who birthed me–the woman who raised me.

“I, um—” I pull my phone from my ear and growl in frustration.It’s just not enough.

“Moe?” Cas cuts in again. I hate the concern in his voice.I’m fine. Everything is fine. I can handle this.

Panic rises within me as I slam my hand back down on the wheel and take a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding the edge of the street.

“Areyou out eating?” Sam asks, but I know what he really means:DoIneedhelp?I do, but it’s not the kind he can provide.

I need fucking therapy.

“Yeah, I decided to go for a walk. Sorry, I thought I’d be back before training.”

“On my way,” Sam replies quickly, but Caspian's voice overlaps his.

“I’ll come with you.”

I slow the car into Raylen's favorite parking space at the diner. I don’t need Caspian to see this. Sam is used to it; he knows what happens when things become overwhelming, but Caspian… this is one thing I need to keep from him. I can’t give him yet another reason to worry—to see me as some scared little kid. Despite my thoughts, my mouth is too dry to protest.

Leaning my head against the wheel, I try to quiet the avalanche of thoughts in my head. It’s not that I don’t want Caspian’s help. I know he would know what to do and could assist me. But how can I bring myself to ask for it when he’s part of the reason these anxiety attacks happen? How can I accept anything from him when all he does is lie and take from me? My biological family—where my father is…

I’m sure if I knew where my father was, I could calm this odd, gnawing feeling. I could figure out if I’m the monster I believe myself to be.

Who logically resents their brother for doing everything he can to protect and love them all because of one stupid night?

I do.

Oh, bloody hell.

I grip the collar of my shirt, tugging at it hard enough for the fabric to dig into the back of my neck, but it does little to relieve the constricting sensation that makes it hard to breathe properly.