Page 46 of Drowning

I pull her into a tight hug, securely wrapping my arms around her shivering body as she sobs in the crook of my armpit. I stroke her wet hair, trying to soothe her as best as I can while trying to remain calm about the shit she just blurted out.

"You know there are other ways to handle him without having to go back to him." I bite my tongue as soon as the words leave my lips, knowing I've already pissed her off by bringing it up.

She yanks out of my grasp, wipes her tears, and lifts her chin in defiance, trying to prove that she's got shit handled.

"I'm taking care of it, Kane," she seethes, anger dripping off of her as she balls her fists down by her sides.

And then she walks off, kicking up sand with the heels of her feet. I don't yell her name or chase after her, knowing it'll only push her further away. If she says she can handle it, she'll handle it, and I have to be able to put my trust in her to do so.

Well, fuck. That could've gone better.

twenty-five

The Escape Artist

E m e r s o n

Confused, broken, and angry, I bolted away from Kane, not wanting him to see how unraveled I truly was. I tried convincing him that I had a handle on Damon—that I could take care of shit on my own. But truth be told, I had no fucking idea if I could or not. Damon was losing his fucking mind, and not only me, but the ones I loved were caught in the crossfire. It was my fault the guys were hurt. My fault the bar got shot up. All of it was my fault. All because I fucking left him. Luckily, I'm motivated by doubt, and there was plenty of it going around the beach house, so a small part of me knew that whatever I decided to do, I'd be able to put a stop to Damon and his madness.

But what was I going to do?

I didn't want to get back with him, for fucks sake. The last year of our relationship was toxic as fuck, and I had gotten to a point where I gave up on myself, allowing him to put his hands on me. I wasn't myself. I was drowning in misery and daily beatings, and I was so afraid that if I didn't leave, I'd end up drowning to death at Damon's hands. Walking away from him—my first love—was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do, but I knew it had to happen.

As I thought about all the ways I had let my brother and everyone down, I kept running, flying past everyone gathered down by the porch. And much like I did with Kane, I ignored them as they called my name, rushing into the safety of the house.

I took the stairs two at a time, panting and out of breath by the time I walked into my room and slammed the door, locking it to keep everyone out. Just as I was about to drop to my knees and break down, my phone went off, immediately sending uneasy chills down my spine. I didn't feel good about it, but curiosity had me checking to see who it was and what the fuck they wanted.

I instantly regretted it, sank to the floor with my back against the door, and did my best to keep the bile from rising in my throat.

Don't cry, baby. I did all of this for you—for us.

You shouldn't have left me, Emerson. You shouldn't have walked the fuck away.

I shivered reading Damon's text, doing all I could to not look out the windows to see where he was. He was out there watching me, for sure, but I was too much of a pussy to find out where.I tried to ignore him and the messages, but they kept coming, putting me in a tough spot.

You can ignore me all you want, but I'm never going away.

Oh, I left something for you; check your top drawer.

I froze as I read the last message, feeling fear and dread seep into every bone in my body. I didn't want to get up, but I knew I had to.

My shaky legs carried me to my dresser, and with each step, I felt the bile rise a little more each time. Breathing in and out slowly, I curled my fingers around the knobs and pulled the drawer open, feeling the life drain from my body as my eyes landed on six bullets, all neatly lined up in a row on top of the new underwear I had to buy because of Damon stealing every pair that I owned.

Before I could really take in what was in front of me, my phone went off again, and I angrily reached down to snatch it off the floor.

Pick them up and look at them, Emerson.

I put my phone on top of the dresser and reached into the drawer, pulling a bullet out with trembling fingers. Carefully inspecting it, I felt my heart stop as I figured out what he was talking about, growing more fearful by the second. I dropped the bullet and picked up another, then another, and another, until I cautiously looked at all six.

Not only were there six bullets in my drawer, but carved into each one was a name.

Eli. Seven. Ace. Kane. Stone. Emerson.

I dropped the bullet and slammed the drawer shut, feeling more enraged than anything. I picked up my phone and tapped the phone icon, wanting Damon to hear me loud and clear. Of course, he answered on the first ring, a laugh in his voice as he spoke my name.

"Emerson, baby, I take it, you saw my gift?"

"It's not fucking funny, Damon. Leave me the fuck alone, and leave the guys alone, too."