The Certainty of Violet & Luke(11)

‘There’s something else I need to tell you,’ he says as he rummages through the drawer for some clothes.

The edge in his voice makes me hesitant to answer. ‘Okay …’

‘It’s about last night… After we got home.’ He shuts the drawer then just stands there in the middle of the room. I can’t fully see him other than out of the corner of my eye, but he’s making me uneasy. Did I do something strange last night? Well, more strange than normal for me? Did I speak about the dream maybe, when I was half asleep or something? ‘There was a box on the doorstep when we got home from the party.’

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and goosebumps erupt across my arms. ‘And who was the box from?’ I ask, even though deep down already know – from the monster haunting my dreams. I’m just hoping – wishing – that maybe Luke will prove me wrong.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking below his weight and the emptiness I’d been feeling diminishes again. ‘It didn’t say exactly who sent it … but there was a photo of you inside … ‘He puts his hand on my back and I feel a tremble in his touch. ‘Please just come to class with me.’

I turn all the way over and face him. The fear in his eyes tells me I should be afraid; that whatever was in the box I should be afraid of. But I won’t let myself do that, feel the fear. ‘What was in the box, Luke? ‘

He keeps his intense brown eyes on me. ‘I already told you … a photo of you.’

I steadily maintain his gaze. ‘And what was I doing in this photo?’

He searches my eyes for something and I wonder what he sees exactly. Someone lost and scared or the fa?ade I’m trying to wear, the one I’ve been wearing since I was five. ‘I just want to protect you.’ His fingers spread across my cheek and warm my skin. ‘From all the bad and ugly in the world.’

‘I already know too much about the bad and the ugly to be protected. And it’s better to know than to be in the dark,’ I tell him, although I’m not sure I believe my own words. There are many times in my past where I’ve questioned whether it was better to stay in the dark, starting out with when I was five and in the basement where my parents were killed. If I had stayed there until someone came to the house, I’d never have seen my parents dead. The memory of the blood, and my father’s final words, wouldn’t be branded in my head, like a hot iron rod singeing flesh. And then maybe the foster families wouldn’t have been so afraid of me. Then maybe I would have grown up with a family and I wouldn’t be here in this moment. But see, that’s the problem. Because deep down, my heart wants to be here with Luke, which means all of that had to happen. Destiny, right? Well, I’ve been conflicted over destiny a lot lately. Because it led me here to Luke, but it took so much for me to get here. To go back would mean to lose Luke, but to admit that I wouldn’t want to go back would feel like a huge betrayal to my parents. And if I did finally accept just how much I care for Luke, I’d be accepting that something might happen – maybe destiny again – that would rip him from my life and I’d lose him perhaps forever. And I’m not sure if I could handle that – handle destiny again. All I really want is … well certainty I guess.

‘You were in this room … in the photo.’ Luke finally divulges and there’s a tremble in his fingers. ‘I think he took it from across the street.’

Fear blazes through me, but I extinguish it quickly. Bury it, dammit! ‘So you think it was Preston who left the box and took the picture,’ I state emotionlessly, refusing to feel anything toward Preston, whether it hatred or fear. I will not let him get to me. Won’t think of him. But just trying not to think of him makes my blood boil. My fingers curl inward, my fingernails stabbing my palms, cutting flesh, slicing through the pain, distracting it into something else. ‘That’s new and bold of him. Beats sending texts I guess.’

‘I’m not sure it was him, but …’ He trails off, his expression sinking.

‘But I only have one stalker,’ I finish for him, my voice sounding empty. Empty, just like me. I hate it, hate myself for everything I’ve done. Why can’t I just let it go and change?

Luke starts to say something, but I cut him off. ‘You should go. You’re going to be late for class.’ I roll over to my side again and face the wall.

‘Violet, I really don’t think you should stay here,’ he says, his fingers falling from my face.