Page 4 of Twisted Violet

Fast.

A shape or a shadow. Gone before I can fully register it.

I sit up slowly, keeping my eyes locked on the window.

It’s probably nothing.A bird or a branch, or my imagination being cruel again.

Still, I slide out of bed and cross the room to check.

Reaching for the curtain; I curl my fingers tightly around the fabric, and quickly jerk it back.

Nothing.

Just an empty yard and afew branches swaying in the breeze.

I stand there for a second, questioning my own sanity.

Did I imagine it?

My mind does that now… plays tricks on me.

It turns breezes into footsteps and shadows into monsters, like my body doesn’t know how to feel safe anymore.

I close the window, lock it, and draw the blackout curtains tight. Just in case. Then I crawl back into bed and slide my headphones over my ears.

The music starts, and the world fades away instantly. No more creaking walls. No more shallow breaths. No more intrusive thoughts. Just the low, aching vocals that bleed into the deepest parts of me.

An hour passes, maybe two.

Time blurs and stretches as I drift somewhere between restlessness and sleep.

I think about my past. About the time I spent trapped in that shed, and how I’ll probably never feel safe again.

I think about Stevie. About what she did for me, and how I’ll never forgive myself if she dies.

I think about Dallas, too. About the way he looked like he genuinely cared, and the way I shut him out anyway.

God, what’s wrong with me?

Why can’t I seem to do anything right?

The darkness in the room shifts, and a sliver of light appears on the wall across from me.

It doesn’t move at first. It just lingers there for a moment, like it’s waiting for a cue. Then it widens, and I see a flicker of shadow cross it, before it narrows and disappears again.

Someone sets something on the nightstand behind me. A plate of food, most likely. I catch the scent of bacon and something sweet in the air.

I don’t turn around to thankthem. I just lie there, still as stone, pretending to be asleep.

I’m sure it’s Dallas, and honestly, after what happened earlier, I’m too much of a coward to face him right now.

Dallas is always there for me, breaking up my dark thoughts with a flirty grin or stupid joke. He hides behind all that pretty boy charm, but I can tell his heart is too big for his own good. He has this innate ability to show up for me when things get heavy and find a way to carry some of the weight, even if I never ask him to.

I can’t believe I tore into him like he was the enemy.

I feel him shift behind me, like he’s about to leave, and something in me twists so hard it hurts.

Before my ego can intervene, my hand shoots out, bridging the gap between us as my fingers close around his warm arm.