The Thief Who Saved My Life

Fourteen

I sit in the car, staring up at the building. No one has noticed me yet, but I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. I'm not sure why I came here.

Except that I am.

I know exactly why I'm here, even if I don't want to admit to anyone, least of all myself. 

Shutting off the car, I jerk my key out of the ignition and toss it into my bag. My feet stomp up the stairs and before I have time to think it through my fist is pounding on the door.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise."

An unattractive snort flies out of me. "I'm not sure pleasant is the right word."

Garret's lips spread into a grin as he pulls the door open wider. The apartment isn't full of people, which strikes me as strange for a Saturday night, but then, it is still rather early. The sun hasn't even gone down yet. Garret's hand slides around my waist as I step across the threshold. I feel a little like Dante. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. But I abandoned hope years ago and my reasons for being here now probably mean I actually do belong in one of Dante's levels of Hell. Garret's hand isn't tight around me. He's not trying to hurt me. But my ribs are tender and I flinch from the touch, only partially because of the physical pain.

"I should probably apologize for losing my cool the other night."

I roll my eyes.

He usually apologizes after he hurts me badly enough to leave physical wounds. There was a time I bought into it. I thought he was sorry. That all stopped mattering a long time ago. The apologies have become less sincere anyway. He used to pretend a little.

Garret leads the way to his room. The same room I where I lied and cried only a handful of days ago. Completely misreading the situation, he kicks the door shut behind him and turns to face me, his hands sliding up my body until they cup my cheeks.

It's dirty and wrong, but as his lips press against mine I consider for the briefest of seconds, letting this happen. It's a sick and it's a twisted thought in my head and just considering it makes me feel like the person Brandon told Tyler I am. But I could forget. I could take away the hurt for a moment. I could fill my mind with something else.

And then that moment passes and, wiggling my hands between our bodies, I push away from Garret.

"That's not why I'm here."

I walk over and sit on the hard bed trying to ignore the musty smell permeating from the mattress - from the whole room. Being in here creeped me out, even when I was a silly girl in love. Like, I almost expected to find someone - alive or maybe just a dead body - stuffed in the closet.

A frown pulls at Garret's lips.

"A guy can dream," he flashes a grin that used to make my tummy jump. Now I just look at him, utterly confused by the seemingly playful mood he's in.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

He's not getting upset which I take as a good sign to continue.

"Act like this is real." I gesture between us.

"I care about you." The way he says it, it sounds like he believes it. The sick, twisted little sad girl who lives inside me wants to believe it too.

"The bruises on my ribs say otherwise." When he doesn't respond I sigh and shake my head. I didn't come here to fight with him. "Look, I'm not here to argue either."

"You're not here to fuck. You're not here to argue." He lists each point off on his fingers and then flashes a cruel smile. "That's all we do, Evie."