Page 51 of Undying Resilience

“Don’t,” Oliver whispers, shaking his head.

I wish you could get into my head so you could see. So you could understand. I don’t want to be like this.

There are words for situations like this, but I don’t know what they are. So I grab his head, angling it upward and slamming my lips to his. He fists my shirt at my sides, grunting when I push him against the wall. The kiss is the opposite of sweet and gentle. It’s pain and anger and hurt bleeding from both of us, not making anything better and probably making everything worse.

Don’t do this to him.

“Fuck.” I tear myself away from him, my chest heaving and my heart aching. “Time. I just need time. I’m sorry.” My voice breaks on the last syllable.

“Rhett—”

But I’m already out of his reach, in every possible sense of the phrase. I run, the sound of my feet pounding on the floor the only thing I can comprehend until I’m closed in my room and leaning against the door.

I don’t let myself stand still. If I stop, I’ll stay frozen for hours, replaying everything. My childhood. Almost losing Oliver. And then the absolute nightmare that the past day has been.

In the bathroom, I turn on the shower and step in fully clothed. The water is cold at first, but I barely even feel it. Barely feel anything.

I place my hands on the shower wall, bowing my head. The water falls on my back as it warms up, soaking my shirt and eventually my pants.

Slowly, the numbness fades, but it only makes me feel worse. Every thought I was trying to avoid rushes in at once. The taunting. The fear. Leaving but still feeling trapped. And then the terror of losing one of the only people I’ve ever loved—one of the only people who’s ever loved me.

My first sob is so violent that I fall to the shower floor. With my head in my hands, I let go fully, the sounds of my distress echoing loudly in the small enclosure.

How could Oliver do that to us?

And why is a part of me grateful he did it?

I can’t stop thinking about Ell and how his eyes were glued to his phone the entire time we were without Oliver. It’s like that little blue dot that represented him was the only thing keeping Elliot grounded. The only thing keeping him breathing. Elliot—the one who’s always strong and composed and ready for anything—cried because he was so scared.

Yet Oliver’s plan worked. And based on how terrified Wren was when I got to her, there may have been some truth to his point. It’s entirely possible that Jordan would’ve killed Wren out of anger or miscalculation if we hadn’t gotten there when we did.

I rub my chest, trying to soothe the ache in my heart. The truth is that we got to Oliver and Wren in time. We all made it out safely. But my body hasn’t caught up yet. It hasn’t realized the crisis is over.

Eventually, my sobs die down, but I still don’t move. I managed to keep it together for as long as I needed to. But between tonight and all of these old memories resurfacing, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Now I’m too exhausted to get up, and I don’t have any motivation to, either.

Maybe I’ll just sleep in here.

“Rhett?”

I jump at the unexpected noise. “Fuck.”

Through the foggy glass, I can just make out Wren’s form where she’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says.

“It’s fine,” I manage, trying to swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Or interrupt you. Are you... are you okay?”

I stare at the water as it flows across the tiles before washing down the drain. Okay. It’s such an arbitrary way to measure a person’s wellbeing. There are times when I’m okay—when I’m distracted, or when I’m with Oliver and Ell, or on the few days I’m able to control my thoughts. But is that okay? Or is that just barely coping? And if so, then what the fuck am I right now?

“Rhett?” She’s closer now, her hand on the shower door. “Can I come in?”

I sigh. “You need to sleep, sweetheart.”

“It doesn’t sound like you should be alone right now.”

Rubbing my face, I mutter, “Fine.”