Taking Turns (Turning #1)(102)

And I don’t care.

I don’t care.

I just want… more. I’m saying it. Screaming it. “More, more, more.”

I hear them talking to me. Barking out commands.

But I don’t care. I just want to give in. “Just one more time, I promise. Just one more time and I’ll be good. I swear. I will. Just one more—”

Everything stops. The black recedes.

“No,” I hear myself saying. I’m crying. I’m sobbing. “No, no, no. Don’t stop! Please—”

A hard slap across my face makes me stop.

Another, and another.

I begin to breathe again. Sucking down air as so many hands take control of me.

So many hands.

On my face, More slaps.

I am lifted up. Carried somewhere.

“Don’t stop,” I sob. “I swear I’ll never do it again. I promise. Just don’t—”

“Chella!”

Smith’s loud shout finally reaches my ears.

He’s holding me. Cradling me like a baby as I cry.

I don’t know how long I stay like that. But when I realize that I’m not really alone. That they are all still there. I open my eyes and whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Quin is the first face I see. He’s leaning against me, petting my hair. His eyes are red and worried. Like he’s upset and that just makes me want to cry more.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Shh,” Quin says. “Just…” He takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “Just be still now, Chella. We’re here. We’ve got you.”

I look over and find Bric. He’s got his hand up to his chin like he’s thinking very hard about me. He gives me a weak smile and then sits down on the bed. I’m in a bed, I realize. Bric is touching my face, his cool fingers so good against my cheek. “Are you OK?”

“That’s enough,” Smith says. He’s still holding me in his arms, his hard chest against my bare back. He pulls me even tighter and says it again. “That’s enough. Leave us alone for a little bit.”

We sit there in the dark quiet. I breathe because that’s the only thing I know how to do. Inhale. Exhale.

“I want to go home,” I finally say.

I feel Smith nod underneath me. But then he stops. “No.”

“I really need to go home.”

“You are home, Chella.”

I look around and realize they brought me to my own apartment at the Club. I’m in my bed. There’s the capitol building outside my window. There’s the snow that never seems to stop these days. There’s the city that I didn’t grow up in.

“You know what I find odd?” Smith asks after a few minutes of silence.

“What?” I ask.

“You never had bad dreams with Quin or Bric. At first I thought it was me.”

“Smith—”

“Shhh,” he says. “Just listen. I thought it was me. That I scared you. But then that night we spent with Bric, you didn’t have bad dreams then either. And I started to wonder about that. Wonder if your house was the reason you had the nightmares. The sleepwalking.”

“I don’t sleepwalk.”

“You absolutely do, Chella. You walked out of the house once. Twice, actually, but I stopped you the first time before you got out the door. The second time you got all the way down the street. You were dressed. You had a coat. You had your purse. You were going somewhere. Where were you going?”

I start to cry again.

“I didn’t tell Bric. I should’ve. We could’ve seen this coming. But I didn’t want to think—I didn’t want him to tell me—that I might be the problem. I liked you too much to even consider giving you up.”

“Is that why you stayed away from me that one weekend?”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I thought it was me until we had that night with Bric. You were so sweet that night, Chella. So sweet to sleep with. Not the f*cking. I don’t care about the f*cking. You cuddled up to me and wrapped your arms around me.” He sighs again. “And I realized it probably wasn’t me. It was a relief and—eye-opening, too. I guess. Because up until that moment, I swear to God, Marcella Walcott, I thought the world revolved around me.”

I smile, even though I feel so f*cking ashamed of myself right now.

“And I know that most kids learn pretty early that they are not the center of the universe, but I always was. I had so many contradicting opinions thrown at me as a kid. Sometimes I was important because I was a billionaire’s heir. Sometimes I was important because I was so defective. And it was so contradictory, you know.”

I turn in his arms so I can lay my head on his chest and see his face. It’s too dark to see anything in his eyes but a little glimmer of light from outside.

“I was everyone’s whole world, good or bad. Love me or hate me. I was the problem. I was the center of all things happening in my life. Until I met you.”

I close my eyes and let it happen. Let the darkness take me. Just give in.

“It wasn’t a peek, was it, Chella?”

I shake my head and begin to cry.

“Shh,” he says, smoothing my hair down. “It wasn’t a peek for you at all. It was a part of you.”