Monster in My Bed

Chapter Thirty-Seven | Laying in Her Grave

"I don't know what to do," I admitted. Daniella's words kept playing through my head. The more they did, the heavier the weight got.

Taylor is a threat. She was sent here on a mission to kill me which gives her no right to ever see the light of day, again. But, how can I say that when I've done worse and gotten away with it? That weight on my chest was not sadness or sympathy. That weight was guilt, and it was crushing me alive.

"There isn't anything," he shrugged. "She dug her grave. Now, she has to sleep in it."

"Then, why are you trying to lay in it with her?" I asked, instantly regretting it as I watched the sadness drain from his face. It was replaced by nothing, just a stoic expression. Almost like a mask. I would have rather him stayed looking like a lost puppy. At least, that Jack was readable.

"Because sometimes I forget that we're only allowed to lay in yours."

The pain that seared through me at that moment felt like someone shot me at close range in the chest with a cannonball. It had enough force behind it that I took a step back as if it was going to lessen the blow. It didn't.

I didn't have the time to respond before Jack pushed past me. I wanted to tell him to stop, to tell me that he didn't mean it, but I couldn't find the words to do so. My voice was caught in my throat to the point that it hurt to breathe.

I don't know how long I stood there by myself before Matteo found me. It could have been hours for all I knew, but it probably was only ten minutes at the most.

"I don't know how you managed that, but I just got the call that he's back," Matteo's cheery voice said from behind me. Usually, hearing him in such a happy mood would have made me smile. Not this time. I didn't respond. My hearing tuned in on the sound of his footsteps approaching me rather than what he was actually saying. "Kaia?" Again, nothing. However, I was very aware of Matteo's hand grasping my wrist, the same one that Jack had, to turn me around to face him. Immediately, his face softened. "Kai, what-"

I didn't want to listen to what he had to say. I wasn't in the mood to answer all of his questions. I wasn't even in the mood to talk about anything that just happened. To avoid it all, I resorted to embracing Matteo instead. Burying my face into his chest, I squeezed myself against his body which hardly had any effect on my mood. His arms wound themselves around me, pulling me impossibly closer. Judging by the lack of conversation that was made, I knew Matteo got the hint that something just went incredibly wrong.

The ride back was silent. I didn't have anything to say. I think Matteo was too nervous to ask the wrong thing. It was just a very tense situation. I didn't bother to eat lunch when we got back. My appetite had definitely vanished for the day. I went straight to bed, instead. Again, Matteo didn't say anything. He just gave me a quick kiss on the forehead before I shut him out of our bedroom. I think he understood that I wanted to be alone.

I didn't sleep very long, maybe an hour. I growled lowly as I ripped the sheets off of me and stormed into the bathroom. I considered another shower. Maybe the hot water scorching my skin could distract me from what was happening? Probably not, so I scratched the idea.

I found myself staring at myself in the mirror. It was the replacement for the one that I shattered the first time I woke up in Matteo's bed. Recalling the moment, I could practically feel the sharp edge of the broken piece of glass in my hand, again. That same hand balled into a fist at my side. I was going to send that piece of glass in one fell swoop through Matteo's neck. If done right, it would have ended his life in seconds. My fingers twitched, tightening my fist even more than before. I could do it, again--break the glass. It wouldn't be hard. I broke it with the toothbrush holder last time, but my fist would work just as well. I wouldn't need my fist after I did it, anyway. A simple punch to the center. The connection would shatter it instantly. Then, I could just end it. I don't think it would hurt. Adrenaline would take over, and I would only feel the aftermath for a moment. Just one fell swoop and I would never need to worry again. I would never need to do anything again.