Page 40 of We Own Each Other

Immediately, I melted into him.

My head rested against his chest, nestled there on the soft expanse. His heart beat against my ear, a comforting, rhythmic sound. It was wonderful, and all the stress and anguish I had been feeling steadily faded away.

With a heavy sigh, I started:

“Good. That’s what I want you to do when you—”

“No. I want you to leave.”

I jerked up, only to find him looking aimlessly at the ceiling of his canopy bed. I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t manage to ask a single one. All that made it out of my lips was a whisper:

“What?”

His hands were pressed against my chest. They were pushing, not intensely so, but enough to prompt me to lift myself off of him.

As soon as I was standing up and off the bed, Corin sat up, rubbing the flesh of his reddening cheek. Still, he did not meet my gaze, casting his to the floor between us.

“The play is over. I want you to leave now. It’s bath time.”

His voice was heavy and monotonous. There was no wavering. I couldn’t hear even an inkling that he might be swayed to change his mind, and that was only further punctuated as he stood up and pushed past me, marching straight for the door.

As he did, he muttered:

“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything with your stuff.”

Flustered, I trailed behind him like the pitiful puppy I was.

“I don’t really care about my stuff. I care about—”

As soon as he had reached the door, his hand grasping the knob, he spun around. Those deep ruby-red eyes pierced through me as he growled:

“Please. Don’t make me command you out of here.”

And with that, he stepped to the side, pulling the door open right along with him.

I blinked, staring into that empty hallway, but when I looked to Corin, he was back to looking anywhere else but at me. Truly, the hallway was looking more and more inviting by the second. Still, my heart fell, like a stone, deep into the pit of my stomach.

I opened my mouth, ready to plead my case, whatever that might be, but nothing was coming to mind. And no matter how long I stood there, slack-jawed, Corin refused to look my way.

So, gripping my empty chest, I ambled out into the hallway, and before I could even turn around, the door slammed shut behind me. Still, I turned, hoping I was mistaken or this was all a bad dream, but no. There was the door — closed and uninviting.

And Corin was on the other side, feeling who knows what.

It was over. All the effort and time I had put in, and all the memories I had created with the one I thought was my person, were dashed in an instant because of my past. A sordid past that I would’ve reveled in before, but I now regretted more than anything.

Garrett’s words rang in my head:

Be yourself.

That is all I had ever been, and it had gotten me nowhere. I could be whoever I wanted to be now, but that didn’t change what I had done in the past.

Tears were burning in the corners of my eyes, but I did my best to hold them in as I made my way to the stairwell. The smell of dust and mold was more potent than it had ever been, a painful reminder that this would be the last time I’d ever smell it. As I reached the final landing, just before reaching the bottom floor, all of the pain was too much to bear.

Crouching down into the corner, squashing cobwebs and sending dust flying as I did, I pressed my hand over my mouth and sobbed. I let out every ounce of pain, anguish, and rage that was only building higher and higher within me.

Never in my life had I cared about being alone. In fact, I preferred it most of the time.

But now, the loneliness was so intense that I could barely breathe.