And the Trees Crept In(39)
hold me forever
and then I have kissed him and I am kissing him and he is kissing me back. This first kiss. My first kiss ever. Something at the core of me, something that is hard and porous and dry, begins to fill in and soften and I feel my heart yelling: DANGER! DANGER! even louder, but I don’t care. For this tiny moment, with the wine still swimming in my head and my inhibitions down, I don’t care about anything else in the world.
I can’t breathe, and he’s not doing much better himself, and he is pulling me toward him and my whole body is one giant blush and I feel like I am going to pass out and I want to be here forever.
His hands explore me and mine explore him, and I don’t want this to go further, but I do— Gowan pulls away, steps back, clenching his fists at his sides and panting. His lips are flushed and red and I want to kiss him again—always—but he is shaking his head and saying, “I can’t I can’t I can’t” over and over and I realize that he thinks this was one huge mistake and I am mortified.
I fold my arms around my torso and look away from him, my heart still thudding in my ears, and when I look up again, he is staring at me with this blazing expression and I almost step toward him again. But he steps back. Steps away. Says, “Sorry… I can’t do this,” and then he leaves me all alone again and I feel the rage returning, but I don’t want it anymore. I want him.
I am alone then, in a book-lined room of shadows.
Some time later, my father’s voice floats down the stairs, meeting me where I can’t escape a drunken nightmare.
SILLA DANIELS’S GUIDE TO NOT FALLING IN LOVE
1. Don’t think about him.
2. Don’t notice.
3. Remember the rejection.
4. Harden the stone.
5. Realize that something is wrong with you.
He finds me curled into the window seat, the curtains closed against the night.
“Silla?” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
My head is killing me, and I see no reason to answer.
And that’s when he leans forward and puts his forehead on my arm. “Please, Silla… I’m so sorry. I wish… so many things.”
His eyes are closed.
And his lips keep murmuring, “Sorry. So sorry.”
And I hate seeing him like this. And I hate his stupid apologies.
So I take his head and hug it to me, and kiss the top of it. He smells like apples, but it doesn’t make me sick this time. I breathe him in, and I tell him I’m sorry, too. But inside I’m thinking, You left again. You left me again.
“Silla…” he says, and I know what’s coming.
I’ll follow him anywhere.
Except… I can’t.
“I can’t,” I say.
His jaw clenches as he gets to his feet. He turns away and I notice his hands are fists. Like rock. Like stone.
Stone-hearted girl.
This is it, now. He’ll leave again. He’ll go and leave me here, trapped by the trees and… and what?
“This isn’t a haven, Presilla. It’s a cage. Your aunt is crazy, in the attic. You have no food. Your garden is dead—why won’t you come? Why won’t you save yourself? Why won’t you leave?”
“I have to stay. For Nori.”
He takes my face in his hands. “Please. Come with me. Be with me.”
“Gowan…” He doesn’t understand. “It’s Nori.…”
He shakes his head, and his eyes are an overcast evening in winter.
“She would come.”
“He’ll get her.”
And I need to tell him what I know—know—is true.
“If Nori goes into those trees, he’ll get her. He wants her.”
“Who?”
I take a deep breath. “The Creeper Man.”
When I’ve explained everything to Gowan—all the illogical parts, like the moving trees (which he’s seen for himself), the shape in the woods, Cath’s story, the fact that I’ve seen the Creeper Man—he is pale. I’m not sure if it’s because he believes me, or because he finally realizes I really am off my rocker. Just like I fear.
I don’t mention my theory about my father being in the house because… because his presence in this house doesn’t explain anything besides his voice. And, what, is he sitting in an endless hole just trying to scare me? He’s a monster, sure. But he’s not that patient.
Gowan doesn’t say anything. But then he moves and I think: He’ll leave me now. He’ll finally just go.
Instead, he puts his head on my legs.
We stay like that for a long time, his head resting on my lap, my fingers curling into his hair.
“You asked me once if I loved anything,” I whisper. This time of night, alone in this library, feels special. Our secret. Outside of time. Outside of reality.
“You said you loved your sister, and that was all.”
“And there’s a reason.” I hesitate. Where do I even start? It might be a bit much to say that I find the world lacking. If that’s true, I couldn’t place the blame at the foot of the universe. I’d have to lay it squarely at my own feet.
Instead, I say, “My mother was a weak woman. She married a man who… should never have been a father. For anyone to be cursed with his genes would be punishment enough, without having to cohabit with him.”