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Chapter twenty-three

Forest

T he dryness in my throat is unbearable, finally forcing me to blink away my exhaustion. I feel my soft sheets beneath me, unsure how I ended up in my bed in the first place. After a few glances around my room, I see Kai's note on my side table, scribed with his perfect handwriting.

I figured you didn't want me to change you.

I told Mom and Dad you had a long day after what happened at school and needed some rest.

I won't push you on why you were asleep outside Dad's study, but I need answers.

I love you.

-Kai

I drop the note, feeling great appreciation for my brother and his desire to always try his best to do what’s best for me. With a swing of my legs, I am out of bed. I yank open my door to peer down the dark hallway. Darkness engulfs the space around me. Everyone's rooms are silent, my father’s study now fully closed, trapping the horrors I saw earlier within it. I expect my parents' door to fly open when the floorboards creak under my feet outside their room. Seconds pass and the house remains silent.

Slowly, I work through the house, feeling relieved when I reach the kitchen. After three glasses of water, I finally feel refreshed. I have to shake away the images of all the malnourished children in the Unfortunate sector. I think of the boy from school who had stolen the food. All of those Officials knew about his living conditions, yet still chose to punish him. Given his security detail duties, even Xavier knows the horrors lying beyond the fence to their sector.

Is what I saw the “burden” he spoke of yesterday, or does he know more than I think?

The air begins to feel heavier in my lungs, and it takes more effort to breathe in than it does to let it all out. The outside world beckons for me, only a sliding glass door away. With a quick scan of the yard, I silently slip outside, snagging my father’s ID from the counter to grant myself access outside this late at night. The house doesn’t stir, no alarms sounding off at my presence, allowing me to quietly slip out. Finally, I allow myself to take a full breath, leaning against the side of my house. My arms are wrapped around my front, working to warm my cool exterior.

I glance up toward the side of the house, expecting to see the camera only a few feet away from my face. It’s the same one that always watches our backyard.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark, only to see the fragmented glass pieces of the lens shattered on the ground around my feet. It looks just like the one that Xavier pummeled with rocks on the other side of the house. The camera wires poke out, and I can tell the security camera is completely broken and definitely incapable of detecting any motion around this part of the yard. I poke the pieces of glass with my toe, listening to it scrape against the wooden deck.

“What the fuck?” I question, hearing the rattle of leaves in the tree line behind me.

Like the night of the screening, I get a feeling, sensing something sinister lurking in the shadows, watching me from a distance. Even from here, I hear the rasp breathing of its lungs, listening to its nails tap the side of the tree like it's impatiently waiting on something. I spot a foreboding outline behind the trunk of one of the largest trees in our yard. It’s still in the blanket of darkness. I’m unnerved by the fact that I can’t figure out what it is. My body fills with chills, unable to move as fear paralyzes me.

“Who’s there-”

A gloved hand grabs my neck, slamming me hard into the side of my house, being sure to cover my mouth before I can get a scream out. My feet drag across the balcony, nearly cut by the glass scattered around the area. A pair of unfamiliar brown eyes look over me, watching me flail in their grasp as they lift me off of my feet by my neck and slam me against the side of my house. I claw my hands against their arms, trying to get away from them. This person is strong, power threading through their movements. Untouchables don’t have strength like this. I do my best to reach into my mind, screaming out into the void of my head.

"Help me!” I yell in my mind, feeling the pressure around my neck intensify. My legs grow weaker with each attempt to kick myself away from the masked deviant.

“How many valuable things can I nab off a pretty Untouchable like you?” the man questions, his face hidden by a black mask.

Unfortunate muggers. Damn.

“G-Go to hell-” I try to say, feeling him slam me once more into my house, knocking me back harder than he had the first time.

My thoughts linger and I let my head stay against the wall as all the ways in which this scenario could play out slam into my head all at once.

“Get the fuck off of her!” his voice says, shoving the man away from me and sending me to my knees. I grasp violently at my throat, trying to drag the air back to me in strained breaths.

Even without a mirror, I know my neck is bruised, possibly swollen. I continue to gasp, unable to take a full breath.

“I was getting somewhere-”

“Go find another fucking house, Aaron,” Fallan says, shoving his finger into the man’s chest, pushing him several steps back. “This one's mine,” Fallan finishes, looking over the man sternly.

I clutch my neck, listening to their exchange with wide eyes. I hear my shallow breaths pick up, watching Aaron give me one look before sneering at Fallan’s brooding figure.

“I’m not stopping for you next time,” Aaron says, pointing to Fallan before slipping back into the night. I look again at the tree line, unsure if there was anything there to begin with.

Fallan turns on his heels, sporting the same get-up as his friend. The mask covers his face, only showing his deep blue eyes. A few strands of his hair poke out from beneath his hood, but not enough to recognize him in this lighting. He steps toward me, only motivating me to return to a standing position. He clutches the blade at his side, pulling it free from its hilt. I watch him take another step; my back fully pressed against the wall.

“I-I would understand-” I say, wincing at the pain in my throat. “If you wanted me dead,” I whisper, feeling the tears cloud my vision. He keeps moving toward me, staying silent. His eyes are my only way to see his feelings.

Fallan pauses in front of me, turning his blade to the dull side, letting his arm rest above my head as he leans over me. I feel the cool metal as he drags his weapon up my stomach, holding up my shirt with its point. All of that motion had caused my pants to slip down lower on my hip, giving him a perfect view of the mark that taints my skin. He lets his hand fall from above me, grazing his thumb over the rough skin of my mark, filling my body with unnerving warmth. The touch is invigorating, forcing my body to scream to life.

“I wasn't sure if you were like me. I've never been sure,” Fallan whispers, letting his light touches become a firm grasp as his hands explore my hip. “Now I know,” he says, narrowing his eyes once he notices me moving my hands to my neck again to try and stifle the throbbing pain that’s threatening to leave me incapable of moving from this spot.

“That fucking idiot,” Fallan curses, reaching into his back pocket to grab the spray we’ve both become all too familiar with lately. I don't try to stop him when he applies it, feeling relief in how it soothes the skin around my neck. “I had no idea you'd be out here,” Fallan continues, sheathing his weapon again. Keeping two hands on either side of my head, he keeps me backed against the wall.

“I would have let him kill me-” I begin, remembering the video and what had been done to him.

"No, you wouldn't have,” Fallan leans down closer to my face, cutting me off. “Because he would have been dead before that happened,” he continues, unable to mask the smell of alcohol on his breath each time he speaks.

“Seeing him hurting you like that,'' Fallan starts, looking me over again. “And hearing you yell for help,” Fallan continues, touching his head. “It did things to me, Forest,” he finishes, sounding unsure of himself.

So, the voice. It’s truly him.

The question is how?

I start to pull down the front of his mask with shaky hands. I let my fingertips linger on his temples, slowly moving them along the soft curves of his cheeks, feeling wetness along his skin where tears must have been. He doesn’t push my hand away as I gently continue exploring his taut features, instead his gaze fixes on my lips, silent words hanging from his own as I try not to unravel in front of him.

“What are you doing here, Fallan?” I question.

I can feel him now, connected to me by some unknown force. He invades my mind, prying open the door but waiting for an invitation to explore any further. My hand trails down from his face to his neck, where I can feel his pulse beneath my touch. There’s a rhythm to his heartbeat that keeps me in a trance.

“This was supposed to be easy,” Fallan whispers, letting his own hands dive under my shirt, holding on to my waist firmly.

A burst of energy surges through me, filling the pool of heat between my legs at the sensation of his skin on mine. “I told myself I wouldn't come near you,” he continues, moving his hands from my waist closer to my ass, giving me no warning before sliding them down my thigh. He grabs me tighter before dragging me flush to his front, propping me against the side of the house as my legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

My arms reach around his neck, pulling my chest closer to his. Suddenly my mind and body are in sync, totally focused on immersing my very being into the sensation of his touch. Every part of me is awake. Everything seems louder, every noise clearer. A dam crumbles, leaving long-dormant emotions and feelings cascading freely through me. I revel in the newness of it all. Or is it a reunion with parts of me I’d been cut off from? I can't stop the ache in my breasts as our bodies seem to mold together, and I feel his hands tighten on my legs.

“But then he touched you,” Fallan continues, bringing his lips close to my neck, hovering over the same sensitive spot Xavier had explored earlier.

“Like he knew you. Like he knew my Little Dove,” Fallan continues, not once letting his lips land on the skin. “The memory of him touching you drives me fucking insane,” Fallan whispers, biting his lip as he pulls away from my neck, clenching his jaw out of frustration. “He gets to touch you, to feel you. To be something to you. And all I can do is watch all of it while I have to pretend to hate you,” Fallan finishes, readying himself to pull away from me. I grab his face, stopping him from looking away. The alcohol strips away his quiet nature, leaving me with this raw version of a man whose very confessions sing to some part of me, tormenting my mind and heart with unbridled desires I don’t want to contain anymore.

“What am I to you?” I question, watching the torment that swirls in his eyes.

"If I tell you,” he says, inching his face closer to my own, letting our noses brush, “I lose you.” he finishes in a whisper. My stomach drops at the statement, my mind torn between letting me suffocate in the closeness of us and getting the answers from him.

“I'm right here, Fallan,” I push, something familiar calling for attention in the recess of my mind as the words leave my lips. There’s a fuzzy image of something vivid and heartbreaking, but I can’t piece it together yet. The necklace I saw around his neck in the video footage from my father’s office slips free from his shirt. The ring shines brightly, like it's infused with something important and meaningful. Like it’s an embodiment of something I should recognize. Like it belongs to me, too, even though it hangs around his neck and adorns his chest, not mine.

“How much of this is because of the alcohol?” I question, inching my mouth closer to his.

Something changes at that moment, and before I can say or do anything else, he lowers me gently to the ground, coercing my legs from around his waist to create a bit of space between us. I watch him process how close we were, his hand moving to adjust the front of his pants as his eyes stay locked with mine. I cross my legs to control the ache between them. He runs his hands through his hair as his features turn stern and decisive.

“I can't do that again,” he whispers, visibly growing more frustrated with each passing moment.

He opens and closes his hands, a way to control stress, no doubt.

“Fallan,” I start, moving toward him. “I don't want you to stay away from me.”

He grabs my chin, holding me close to him, cupping my face between his two large hands.

“I have no other choice,” he whispers. The pain of that admission is written on every part of his face, like he’s been struck by his own words, leaving real wounds open on his flesh.

“Why Fallan?'' I say, trying my best to pull him down by his neck. In the blink of an eye, he’s now several feet away from where he just stood. I stumble forward. His eyes are wide, looking around frantically before moving towards me again.

“H-How did you-”

His hand clamps down on my mouth, stopping me from finishing. He pulls me into the front of him, resting his free hand in my hair, moving his fingers along my scalp to soothe me. He has us backed into my house, both of us silently listening to the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Fallan?” Valerie calls out, appearing from the same direction Fallan had come from. “Did you get her?”

I’m annoyed that she’s here but not surprised. Fallan squeezes me in an attempt to remind me to stay quiet. She can’t see us yet, but if she moves any further, she will. His fingers weave gently through my hair, trying to ebb the anxiety I know he can sense in all my tense body parts pressed against his front.

“She got away. She didn’t recognize us,” Fallan says in her direction, moving his hand away from my hair to run his fingers down my side. “Aaron might need help. Keep moving,” Fallan says, urging the blonde to move past my house.

She obliges, not seeing me with him. I want him to keep me pressed against him like this. His lips lower close to my ear, holding me still with his firm hands on my stomach.

“Hate me, Forest,” he begs, his hands dragging up and down beneath my shirt. “Please, hate me,” he continues, stopping his hand motions, “I can't keep having you look at me like I matter. Like you’re holding a door open for me, and I can have you. It’s delusional to think there’s a way for me to get to you, knowing they'll rip it all away,” he seethes, making me that much more confused.

“But having you look at me tonight the way you did was worth every lashing they gave me,” he admits, pressing his lips firmly to the top of my head. I feel my heart burst on the spot, my mind forcing something back into the shadows to keep this moment free from falling into obscurity, to be uninterrupted for just a little longer.

“It will be worth it every time,” he finishes, pulling his lips away from my forehead.

I feel his thumbs rub along my cheeks, grazing my lips before he steps back. His hand quickly swipes the necklace around my neck, giving it a gentle kiss before turning on his heel and disappearing into the darkness. I stumble backward into the wall, feeling weak in my knees from his sudden absence.

My head spins. Slowly, I take in deep breaths, willing myself to slow the jumble of thoughts whirling and buzzing in my skull. My heart races as I commit everything that just happened to memory. It may not make sense right now, but there’s more here, and I don't want to forget any of it. His vulnerability, his words, his piercing blue eyes wide with truth and desire, all of it real.

"If he tells me, he’ll lose me,” I whisper to myself, reflecting on what he’d said. I raise my finger to my chip, feeling its warmth, indicating its active status.

“Have we been here before?” I question in my mind. I close my eyes, hunting through all the spaces where the chip has embedded itself. I can feel its presence, waiting and threatening to seal my thoughts shut, trying to trap me in. But this time, I’m ready and hold it back.

“The answer to that doesn’t change anything, Little Dove,” he whispers back, filling my body with chills.

I look down to where the broken pieces of the security camera are scattered around the deck. I lean down and pick up a glass shard that must have been part of the camera lens.

“You want to control me?” I whisper, mocking the chip as I clench the shard of glass so tightly that my hand begins to shake.

“Fuck you,” I utter, driving the glass right into the center of the chip behind my ear, barely able to hold in the scream lodged in my throat as I drag it down toward the base of my skull. I hear the sound of my skin rip apart as the glass finds its way to the soft tissue and tendons underneath. I keep scraping, the feeling of blood trailing down my neck and warming my top, doing nothing to dull the sharp pain from the gaping wound I’m creating.

I drop the glass and push my fingers into the flesh. I channel all my rage, hate, and disgust to the tips of my fingers as I work to untangle every talon of oppressive machinery.

There’s a tightness around my skull. The pressure is immense as the chip defends itself from being ripped out. It’s fighting me, refusing to loosen. My fingers become frantic and chaotic, pulling and tugging faster as I realize how much blood I’ve probably lost. I try to control the sway of my legs as I become lightheaded.

But then something taut snaps free, and a comforting silence greets me in the free space it leaves behind. The creature in my mind stretches out and unfurls, claiming back the space that was stolen from it.

I let out a sigh as darkness consumes me.