Red Moon Rising

46. wrong

I wash a few of the dishes, but I know I can't make him wait too long. Walking into the cafeteria, I take a moment to drink in the silence of the room. Most of the boys are working out in the yard or are waiting for Isaac to join them on patrol, leaving behind empty trays and dishes on long, silent tables. When I walk past the brick pillar, I resist the urge to run my fingers over the cracks or to look at it too closely. Is the bullet still buried somewhere in there? Deep within the brick, is there still some trace of Sam that hasn't yet been washed away?

Isaac is right; I'm only making myself more upset. And when I have to face him in just a few moments, I don't have time to cry or let my cheeks get red and blotchy. He's been gentle with me all week, but it's only made my fear of him grow, knowing how easily I could send him spiraling back to the Isaac with a glint of murder in his eye.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step into the silence of Isaac's room, a dense quiet that feels instantly wrong even before I see what's happening. I'm still standing in the doorway when I see him staring at the bottom of my boot. When he looks at me, fury twisting his features into a person unfamiliar to me, I consider running back into the hallway.

Instead, I close the door behind me and force myself to take another step into the room. "I can explain," I try, but I can tell how little my explanation will mean.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He throws the boot to the floor and prowls toward me. It's the look on his face that keeps me frozen, the wild, blind anger that I sometimes remember when I try to sleep at night.

"It's not what it looks like, I—"

I stumble back so the closed fist only glances off my cheek, but the collision of the wall against my back leaves me struggling to breathe. When his hands close around my neck, I'm already desperate for air, stomach twitching at the impulse to draw in a breath that just won't come. He doesn't seem to notice my nails clawing into his wrists and arms or the way I'm trying to reach him with my eyes. But his gaze is blank, almost glassy, until I manage to twist one leg high enough to effectively kick the side of his shin.

Isaac snarls as his leg buckles, and his hands loosen enough that I can wrench away from them. I have to get out of here, I just have to give him enough time to calm down, that's all. But his sights are set on me, and as often as I wriggle and claw out of his grip, he just keeps reaching for me.

"Isaac, please!" It's like I am nothing to him, something far less than what I was or simply distorted beyond recognition. Isaac catches a handful of my hair and pulls me back hard. At first, I stumble onto the floor, but I quickly rise as my hair is pulled tighter and tighter, up and up. "Just let me explain! I found—" My words end in a grunt as he shoves me hard, face-first, into the brick wall again. My temple takes the brunt of the hit until he pushes me flush against the cold surface, my cheek scraping across jagged edges of mortar.

Silence rises unexpectedly between us. His hands are poised, one in my hair and the other twisted in the back of my shirt. Somewhere in the daze of slamming against the wall, I stopped struggling. As I press my palms against the brick to shove away, Isaac lifts my head a little toward him and knocks me back into the wall.

"What's it going to take for you to figure this out." His voice is hoarse, words pressed tight from a clenched jaw.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm sorry. I want to talk to you."

"Bullshit. All you do when you open your mouth is lie."

"I swear to god, you have to believe me. Isaac!" I can feel the blood spilling from my split forehead, grinding wet and horrible across my skin as he tries to crush me into the wall. "I wasn't going to leave, I promise! I've tried so hard, you know I have."