I finally had my own space, doors that locked, a bed I didn’t have to share with anyone I didn’t invite. But I still couldn’t escape her. Night after night, I relived her torment, berating myself for not figuring out a way to save myself. For not asking for help. For not setting up cameras or some other way to catch her in the act. I should’ve been smarter, stronger, braver. I should’ve known better. So many ‘shoulds’ I started to wonder if maybe I did want it, just like she said. That maybe I was sick and broken. Maybe I was the reason my parents left, the reason my brother went mad, the reason Janelle had to keep punishing me. But I wasn’t broken. Just a little lost. Scared. Fucked up in more ways than I could count. And she preyed on it.”
By the time I get all the words out and put them together in some kind of order that makes sense outside my own crazy fucking head, the sky is streaked orange with the last rays of the sunset, my throat hurts from talking, and my whole body feels like it was run over by a freight train.
But somehow, I feel light. Clear. Like I can fucking breathe for the first time in years.
I let out a deep sigh, all out of words. There’s nothing left. Just the breeze and the crickets, the soft sound of her breath, the steady beat of her heart.
Finally, I release my arms, letting her know she can turn around. But I haven’t looked at her since I started talking, and now that I’m done, I still can’t force my eyes to meet her gaze.
The last time I saw those blue eyes, she was looking at me with joy and wonder, marveling at the magick I’d just taught her. I’d rather remember her that way.
I keep my gaze firmly on the dirt.
“Look at me, Baz,” she says softly.
“I can’t. Not yet.”
“Then listen to me instead. Can you do that?”
I pull her close and rest my forehead on her shoulder, my hands on her hips. “As long as you’re not gonna tell me how sorry you are.”
“No sorries,” she promises, sliding her hands up my arms. “Only this. You’re the same man I knew an hour ago. The same man I knew last week. The same man I first met outside Iron and Bone, acting like a total dickhead but making me laugh anyway. And most importantly, you’re the same one I fell in love with. Nothing about your past can ever change that. So we can talk about this as much or as little as you want, but please believe me when I tell you that nothing you say will change how I feel about you.”
“I never wanted to talk about it at all—that’s the thing. I never wanted you to see my ghosts. But all the stuff going on with me lately—the blackouts and the disappearing act—it’s all part of this. It’s like Judgment’s in my head constantly, digging through the worst memories and bringing them to life. I can’t control when it happens. One minute I’m here, and then there’s this ice-cold dread washing through me, and I’m gone. That’s what happened the night you and Kirin and I were together. And again after Harvest Eve.”
“And with Janelle?” she asks gently.
“Janelle… that was different. When I got to the house this morning, all I wanted to do was see you. But then I heard Janelle downstairs, and that was it. It unlocked the monster inside my mind again—but no, not Judgment. It was like something in me suddenly just… decided. I had to end it. If Carly hadn’t come down when she did, I know I would’ve killed her.”
“Carly sensed as much.”
“Fucked up, right? Even though some part of me knew it was wrong, a bigger part of me didn’t care. In that moment, the bigger part almost won out.”
“And now?” she asks, but there’s no judgment in her voice. Only softness. Only compassion.
“I wish Janelle Kirkpatrick was dead,” I say. “I won’t lie to you about that. But… no. I don’t want her fucking blood on my hands. She doesn’t deserve to take up any more space in my head or my life.”
“That’s probably the right call.”
“She makes me feel weak.” I tighten my hands on Stevie’s hips, still unable to lift my head to look at her. “I feel like she’s got this hold over me, and no