Save Me(WITSEC #2)(29)

Hurt molded her features and a tiny part of me actually felt bad for her. She barreled past us, storming toward the door. She barely slowed to scoop up her purse that was on the table next to the couch. We both stood there, in silence, watching her exit until the front door slammed behind her.

“Where were you going?” Knox asked, the icy rage still lingering in his voice.

“I feel a headache coming on and was going to see if I had medicine in my purse.”

“I have medicine in my bathroom. You should have stayed put,” he snapped.

I turned to face him fully. “Are you mad at me for not being psychic?”

Keelan chose that moment to come inside from the backyard. He looked from me to Knox, reading the tension, and wisely stayed quiet.

Knox ignored Keelan and glared down at me. “No. I’m mad about what just happened. How long has that been going on?”

I sighed and walked away into the kitchen.

“Shiloh?” Knox pushed, following me. “How long has Stephanie been treating you like that?”

“Stephanie?” Keelan said.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Knox said to him.

I grabbed a glass from one of the kitchen cabinets. “A while,” I answered as I filled my glass with water from the fridge.

Knox cursed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I took a small sip. “I sort of tried. When you confronted her, she lied to you. You believed her. So I let it go.”

“Damn it, Shiloh. Now who’s wanting who to be psychic?” Knox snapped.

Touché.

He pointed to his side of the house. “Get your ass back in the bathroom,” he said, anger straining his voice. “While I bandage your hand, I want you to tell me everything that has happened with Stephanie.”

My hackles rose at being ordered around.

He seemed to notice. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder.”

I was tempted to see him try.

“One of these days we should have you two spar,” Keelan said, reminding me that he was there and breaking the tension. “You may have Shiloh beat on strength and size, but she’s quick-thinking and has a lot of stamina.”

“Well, you know what they say.” I smirked at Knox. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.” Taking my water with me, I walked past them and went back to Knox’s bathroom.





10





I told Knox and Keelan about every interaction I’d had with Stephanie. Colt and Creed showed up just before I finished. The three of them listened as Knox told them what he had overheard Stephanie say to me before he’d asked her to leave. Colt and Creed were pissed and voiced that she should be fired. Keelan and Knox agreed they would discuss Stephanie’s future at Desert Stone later. Then the topic switched to how I had cut my hand. Keelan had an idea of what had happened. He knew I’d had an episode, but that was it. Colt and Creed knew nothing. Knox and Keelan had been the only ones to witness me have an episode before. Knox helped me explain what had happened from his point of view.

“What triggers them?” Creed asked.

“Fear, mostly. Hearing a woman screaming. Blood,” I answered. “Believe it or not, I handle them a lot better than I used to. I’ve learned to stop an episode before it happens. When she screamed, I felt the fear, but I had control. Then I saw that I had cut my hand. The blood and the knife—it was too many things that reminded me of that night.”

“That’s why you don’t like to watch horror movies,” Colt said.

“Slasher or home invasion movies are an absolute no. Something fantasy or paranormal, like with vampires for example, is tolerable, but the suspense still gets to me,” I explained. “It really sucks because I used to love horror movies. Shayla and I would have themed horror movie nights and gorge on popcorn.”

“What was your favorite scary movie?” Creed asked.

I smiled. “IT. Shayla was terrified of clowns. So because my beautiful, brave, and tough-as-nails sister couldn’t handle watching it and I could, it gave me this twisted joy.”

The corner of Knox’s mouth lifted a little as he began bandaging my hand.

After that, we returned to the party. Colt and Creed refused to leave my side for the rest of the evening. Micah kept eyeing me, but other than that, Keelan’s party continued on without another mishap.

That night I slept a broken three hours and barely an hour the next night. Every time I dozed off, I was back in that house, watching my family die. I felt like I was stuck in a nonstop cycle of fear, pain, and blood. What upset me the most was that I was too exhausted to run.

The sun was barely shining behind the mountains. Sitting on my porch steps, I fiddled with the cigarette carton and lighter that I’d dug out of my dresser in my hands. I needed something—anything to give me a little bit of relief.

With my mind made up, I pulled out a cigarette, put it between my lips, and lit the end. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly with closed eyes. I rested my head on the heels of my hands, hating that I loved it so much. Why had breathing become so difficult, yet pulling toxic smoke into my lungs was so easy?

Eyes still closed, I took another pull and another from the stupid cancer stick. I rubbed my hands up and down my face, trying to keep myself awake.