Page 51

Liar.

I close my eyes as Nigel and Ezra drift off into whatever bodily state they consider sleep, but unsurprisingly, it eludes me. I think of chestnut eyes as I attempt to get comfortable and lay my head on the window. I’m just not sure whose eyes they are anymore.

Maybe both of them.

Perhaps they are the same to me now.

I haven’t slept a wink since Micah left me, other than when the ghost of Maison was with me.

And I am not fine.

The darkness outside creeps into my soul, blurring the edges of my heart. Pain and hunger consume my brain, leaving little room for anything else. The chill in the air makes my bones shiver, specifically my teeth as they slam into each other.

“Shut. Up,” Ezra gripes from the middle of the plane, but it’s not like I can do anything to stop it. I press my lips together and try to focus on my breath as it circles in the air in front of me. The last thing I want to do is agitate these two more than I already have.

My mere existence seems to accomplish that just fine.

He can’t see it, but I flip Ezra the bird, and the gesture is immensely satisfying.

I shift and jerk, the side of the seat digging into my back, before I finally lie down as restfully as I can, focusing on the pleasant memories I had in this spot. Tonight, I will dream about Maison, and only Maison. It was his hands holding me when this plane crashed, his hands that have never hurt me. And it’s his memory I will cherish from the horrors that occurred that night. When I first flirted with him and started falling for him… The day this all started.

Maison, Maison, Maison.

The memory instantly warms me while thinking of Micah endlessly hurts. What is he doing right now? Who is he with? Why is he not with me? I think of the mediocre fuck that is Naomi Wilson and what lengths she would go to get Micah back. The thought cripples me more than it should. Nigel knows how to get under my skin, planting that seed of doubt, even if it’s not true. However, I can’t deny the fact that Naomi’s not here.

Nope. Not thinking about Micah.

After a few minutes of snores and grunts from across the damaged plane, the cabin grows quiet. I peer outside the window for the rest of the night, staring at the outline of half-burnt trees, which seem to glow from the reflection of the melting snow and moonlight. A hint of smoke teases the air, and my nostrils twitch.

Why is there smoke?

I spend the next hours counting every pounding heartbeat, every throb in my hand, every second that ticks by, finding gratitude in the stillness of the moment and the fact that I get to live one more night.

Finally, I drift into a restless sleep plagued by nightmares. It’s always the same circular thoughts of severed hands, chopped fingers, blood, and guts. Images of Micah fucking blonde girls, then making me cut off my own hand.

My eyes shoot open, and my heart rate bolts.

Laughter.

A dark chill overcomes me as the shadows swallow me whole. Because the person laughing at me is sleeping a mere ten feet away in the front of the plane, which gives a good sense of my current mental state. Only it’s not him laughing…

It’s me, and the laughter is coming from the darkest parts of me.

My eyes are wide open, but my body is frozen as I listen to the soft snores of the others. And I sit here going crazy, just… laughing as if this were a carnival.

I snap out of it, my eyes focused on a bloodstain on the ground beside me as a hint of morning light trickles inside. The person who caused that pool of blood also laughed at me at school before his body bled out days later in the crash.

“What’s so fucking funny, London?” Ezra grumbles from a few feet away. He is not happy, which makes me laugh even more. It’s the morning now anyway, and I’m not sure what’s so funny. Truly, I don’t.

A heavy boot hits my shin, and a stalky shadow looms over me.

“Fuck, Nigel,” I cry out as pain shoots up to my knee. I curl back from him and then glare. “What did I ever do to you?” Nothing, is the answer.

His deviant smirk indicates he’s plenty rested now, ready to torture me.

He tilts his head. “Are you ready to tell me where you and Micah are staying, or am I going to have to bleed the answers out of you?”

I can’t help but grimace and violently shake my head, his words causing my entire body to tremble. “I don’t know, I really don’t.” It’s true, I think. I’m not certain I would be able to find that place again, even if I wanted to. Micah had made sure of that.