All the Inside Howling (Hollow Folk #2)(104)

I didn’t start bawling. I didn’t even really start crying. But my face got hot and prickly and numb, and my throat shrank to the size of a pin, and my hands felt huge and weightless, like they were tied to those big Macy’s parade balloons.

“Jesus, Vie, it’s ok. I promise, it’s going to be ok.”

“It won’t be ok,” I said, but the words sounded ripped up and stitched back together. “It won’t ever be ok, not ever.” And then I told him what I’d done, and then I did cry, huge, galloping sobs that seemed to carry me farther and farther away into a place I couldn’t come back from, and Emmett held my head against his shoulder for a long time, and I wish I could say that made a difference, but it didn’t.





Eventually, though, you can only cry so much, and I reached my limit pretty quickly. I washed and dried my face, and I kept the scratchy cotton towel pressed against my eyes for an extra minute just for insurance. When I couldn’t stall any longer, I had to look at Emmett. He sat on the bed, knees apart, elbows on his legs, his face unreadable.

“We really don’t have to talk about this,” I said. “It just kind of came out. I’m fine.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“A lot of people think that.”

“You should have told me. I asked you, Vie. When we were at the hotel last time, when I saw those scars on your back. I said you could trust me. And you should have told me. God, even if you hadn’t wanted to tell me then, why didn’t you say something later?”

“It’s not your business.”

“Of course it’s my business. Everything about you is my fucking business.” He screamed the last part, his face red. “If you think I’m going to be nice and sweet like Austin and tell you we don’t have to talk about it, and it’s ok, and you can take your time, you’re a goddamn lunatic. Sit your ass down. We’re going to talk about this and we’re going to solve it before we leave this cockroach bunghole of a motel.”

“Oh yeah?” I took a step towards him. “You want to yell at me too? You want to make me feel like shit too?” Grabbing a handful of his shirt, I loomed over him. “It’s always one or the other with you. Either you tease, you flirt, you try to drive me crazy, or you spin a hundred and eighty degrees and want me to feel like I’m nothing, like I’m worth less than the toilet paper you tracked out of the bathroom.”

“Christ, finally a little anger. It’s nice to see you’re not ice all the way through.” Emmett’s eyes flicked down to my fist, where I had gathered the front of his shirt, and back to my face. “What are you going to do now?”

“You’re just like all the rest of them. You think I need somebody. You think I can’t take care of myself. You think—”

“Stop telling me what I think. If you’re going to do something, do it.”

“I could do it to you. What I did to my dad, I could do it to you.”

“Then do it.”

“I will.”

Ten seconds passed. Then twenty.

“Do it,” Emmett said, getting to his feet and bumping his chest against mine. “Do it. You want to do this alone? Fine. So do it, you pussy cocksucker. Do—”

It happened effortlessly this time. There was no ping-pong bouncing back and forth, no disorienting pull of here-and-there. This time, the bridge was there, the door stood open, and I flowed into Emmett Bradley like water. In that timeless darkness, I found myself alone.

Alone, but not angry. Or at least, not truly angry with Emmett. My anger was deeper, hotter. It ran through me like ancient cracks splitting the earth’s crust, spilling magma into the smoky sunlight. It was anger at my parents, and anger at Mr. Big Empty, and anger at myself for letting so many people be hurt, including myself. Was this the way it would always feel? I didn’t know. But I knew it wasn’t fair to take it out on Emmett. Especially not when, in his own way, he really did want to help.

I lingered a moment in that darkness. Here, where I was truly alone, I could be honest with myself, even if I couldn’t be honest with anyone else. I loved Emmett Bradley. Still. Against all expectation, against all reason, against what seemed like all good taste. He was wild and unpredictable and unsteady. He had abandoned me when I needed him, and he had turned on me. But he was here now. And he cared about me so much that it hurt. That pain radiated through him, like some invisible spectrum of light knocking against my bones. How was I not supposed to love him? And what did it mean that, in another way, I loved Austin too?

The toll of using my ability was already dragging at me like an outgoing tide, and I let myself drift back into my body. It took a heartbeat for me to orient myself, and I blinked, because I was sure I wasn’t seeing things right.

Emmett Bradley had tears in his eyes. He dashed them away with his arm, but they welled again immediately. Slowly, as though afraid that he might shatter or that I might shatter or that we both might, he worked my fingers loose of his shirt.

“I didn’t—” I said. “Emmett, did I hurt you? What—”

I reached for him, but he stumbled back, tripping over the corner of the bed and scrambling upright. He kept moving away, until his back was pressed against the table with its lacquered message L SUCKS J. I took a step towards him, but he made a slashing motion with his hand, and I stopped.