Page 167 of His To Erase

I spin, grabbing the nearest pillow, and hurl it across the room with a guttural scream that tears out of my throat like it’s been waiting years to be heard. It slams into the wall with a soft thud and drops uselessly to the floor—like it’s not carrying every broken thing I can’t say out loud. Every scream I’ve swallowed. And every feeling I wasn’t allowed to have.

I pace back and forth, but my breath’s too loud, my blood’s too hot, and I still feel his hands on my skin like a curse I can’t scrub off.

I stop in front of the mirror—and wish I hadn’t. My reflection looks unhinged, my hair’s tangled, and my eyes are red and glassy with a rage I don’t know where to bury. I hate this version of me. The one who still wants to be wanted.

There’s a part of me that wants him to come after me, but I know he won’t. Because that would require admitting something.

I grab my phone to call Sarah, my fingers still shaking as I open the screen. I need a distraction. Anything that isn’t this hollow, clawing ache under my ribs. My vision’s still blurry with tears I refuse to let fall, but I need to do something.

A new message from another Unknown number stares back at me. My stomach knots because I know I blocked the last one. So what the fuck is this?

I tap it open and it’s a photo of me, taken from behind. I’m leaving my apartment—hood pulled up, hair a mess, and one hand white-knuckling my phone. It’s grainy, and clearly taken from a distance. But it’s me.

My blood turns to ice.

UNKNOWN: Still sleep with the light on and tuck your feet under the covers like you’re hiding from monsters? They’re coming anyway. You don’t remember what happened, but I do.

My blood runs cold as I stare at the screen.What the fuck does that mean?

Even as I ask it, something shifts. A door creaks open inside me—one I boarded shut a long time ago and swore I’d never touch again. My throat tightens and suddenly, I’m not in Steven’s house anymore. I’m somewhere else. I’m hiding in a room with the lights off. The floor is cold against my bare legs, and my knees are tucked to my chest. I can hear a man’s voice—slurred and violent, while he screams. Something shatters, and the air’s so thick with bleach I feel like I’m suffocating.

I’m under a sink, curled between a mop bucket and a jug of detergent, trying not to breathe. Someone’s crying or maybe that’s me.

And then— I’m back. Ripped out of the memory so hard I gasp. My hands are shaking, and I’m clutching my phone like it might explode.

My whole body’s shaking and my vision’s swimming.

I press a hand to my mouth, but the sob slips out anyway because whoever sent that message…they clearly know the part of me I’ve been trying to run away from. It has to be my ex. I don’t think. I just move. I shove my phone into my pocket, grab the nearest hoodie off the floor, and head for the door. The second I step into the hallway, Bern starts barking.

“Shhh,” I whisper harshly, glancing toward the living room. “Jesus, you’re gonna give me away?—”

I slip out the front door before I can think better of it. The night hits me like a slap—cold and sharp, and far too quiet.

Bern’s still barking behind me as I move fast and low around the side of the cabin, cutting toward the tree line. I don’t know where I’m going, I just know I need some space right now. Branches crunch underfoot and my breath fogs the air.

“Fuck this,” I mutter under my breath, ducking under a low-hanging branch. “Fuck him. Fuck all of them.”

I swipe at my face with my sleeve, still trying to get my breathing under control. That mother fucker, with his goddamn mouth and his accusations like knives. That photo. That message. Everything. I should’ve moved to Europe.

“Creep’s probably watching from a goddamn bush somewhere,” I spit, my voice getting louder. “Stalking me like I’m his. To do what? Erase? Control? Kill?”

My foot slips in the packed dirt and I catch myself against a tree, cursing again. I think I’m having a panic attack.

“God, and that smug bastard. Acting like he’s the only one who's broken. Like I wanted any of this, I didn’t give up my entire life for something I don’t even remember!”

The wind gusts, cold and sharp across my face, but I keep going.

“I don’t know who I was before.”

The words scrape out. “I don’t even know what the hell happened to make me leave. All I have is this pit in my stomach and a handful of dreams.”

I pause, but it’s too late to stop. Bernadette lets out a soft whine behind me, like she knows I’m unraveling. “I didn’t ask for this.” My voice is shaking as the burn hits my eyes. “Any of it.”

I throw my hands out, pacing like the fury needs somewhere to land. “And now I’m just supposed to play house with some emotionally constipated psychopath while my past sends me hate mail from burner phones? Seriously? Fuck that.”

I stop, my chest is heaving, and my hands won’t stop shaking. I brace myself against the nearest tree.

“I’m not doing this. I didn’t sign up for whatever the hell this is—I just wanted to disappear. I just wanted to breathe.”