Save Me(WITSEC #2)(27)

I focused back on cutting.

“They’ll dry,” I heard him say.

I was slicing the rind off from the last sliver when an ear-piercing scream came out of nowhere. Fear surged through me like lightning and penetrated my soul. I jumped and pain ripped across my palm. I looked down. Blood leaked from my hand onto the cutting board. I looked at the chef’s knife clutched in my other hand. The blade had blood smeared along the tip. With fear already overwhelming me, I couldn’t stop myself from being pulled to the dark corner of my mind—the place I tried to avoid with all my might.

I could see them.

I could see their bodies.

There had been so much blood. I could still smell it. Pennies. Dirty pennies. Each inhale I took, my lungs constricted, refusing to take in the tainted air.

Wanting to escape, I took a step back, then another.

“Shiloh?” I heard Knox say.

“What’s wrong with her?” I heard Micah say next.

I couldn’t see them.

I couldn’t tell what was real.

“Shiloh?” Knox said again.

I sensed someone stepping closer. My entire body shook, thinking it was Mr. X. I tried to suck in just a little bit of air and ended up gasping. “It’s not real,” I forced out. Tears leaked from my wide eyes. I couldn’t close them. I hated what I was seeing but was too scared to blink.

“That’s right. It’s not real. You’re standing right here with me.” Knox’s voice was so close to my ear.

Then I felt a presence behind me. An arm wrapped around my middle and a hand grasped me around my wrist. I startled and struggled to get away.

“It’s me. I have you, Shiloh.” Knox’s voice pulled at me like a tether to home.

“Knox,” I whimpered.

“I’m right here with you,” he said against my ear. I could feel him. I could feel his chest against my back, his breath tickling my neck.

I’m safe. Taking a leap of faith, I closed my eyes. Even with them closed, I could still see my family. My mother’s eyes were open and staring right at me. It’s not real.

Hands cupped my cheeks. “Breathe, baby girl. You gotta breathe.”

Keelan.

My tight lungs relaxed, allowing me to suck in delicious air, and I opened my eyes. Keelan was right there, staring down at me. “That’s it,” he said.

As I continued to pull air in and out of my lungs, my gaze traveled past Keelan. Micah was standing behind him, watching me—watching us—with wide, worried eyes. I looked to the hand that held my wrist tightly. I wondered why Knox’s grasp was downright bruising, but I got my answer when I saw that I still had the chef’s knife clutched in my hand.

Keelan’s eyes followed where I was staring. He dropped a hand from my face and put it around my fist. “Give me the knife.”

I uncurled my stiff fingers, and the moment the knife was gone from my hand, my knees gave out. “I’m sorry.”

Knox’s grip around my middle tightened and he held me. “It’s alright.” His voice was gentle.

A sob ripped from my chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. It’s alright,” Knox said as he moved his arm behind my legs and scooped me up in his arms. “I’m going to get her cleaned up. Take the food off the grill and get Colt or Creed to help clean up,” Knox said in a low voice.

“I’ll help him,” Micah said.

Knox didn’t protest. He moved, carrying me toward the back door. I rested my head against his shoulder, numb or in shock. I couldn’t really tell.

“Shi?!” I heard Creed yell, followed by splashing in the pool.

“She’s fine! Both of you come over here and help me!” Keelan shouted.

Once inside, we passed Stephanie. She watched us walk by with a scowl. Knox carried me down the hall that led to his and Keelan’s rooms. We passed a few closed doors until we came to the end of the hall, where one last door was. Knox opened it and we went inside. It was obviously his bedroom. It was large and full of light. I only got a quick glance, but from what I saw, there was an espresso bedroom set and white linens on the bed.

Knox took me into a connected bathroom and set me on the counter. He flicked the light on and ripped a towel off the rack next to the shower. He grabbed my hand gently and turned it palm-side up. My entire hand was pretty much covered with drying blood. I sniffled as I wiped at my wet cheeks with my other hand.

His gaze shot up to meet mine. “Does it hurt?”

“I’ve been cut worse than this.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he grumbled.

“No. It doesn’t hurt.” I could barely feel it compared to everything else I was feeling.

He wet the towel in the sink and began wiping away the blood around my cut.

“I could have hurt you,” I said.

“I was more worried you’d hurt yourself.”

“Better me than you.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” he snapped and threw the towel in the sink.

More tears slipped from my eyes. “I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you.”

He stared at me with a pained expression. His hand lifted from his side and cupped my cheek. With my good hand, I touched the back of his as his thumb brushed away a tear rolling down my cheek. I leaned into his palm, desperate for comfort. He must have sensed it because his hand moved behind my neck and he pulled me to him. I laid my forehead against his chest and closed my eyes as his fingers began to knead up the back of my neck to the base of my skull.