beautiful thieves | ✓

forty

I bottle up everything I'm feeling. I know it's bad for me. I know I'm an elastic band being stretched and pulled until I reach breaking point. I know I should talk to someone about everything I'm feeling. I know that I have my Dad and brothers and Danielle and Blake and everyone else living under this roof who will drop everything to hear me out. But I do it anyway. I plaster on a smile and play with the wolves and chat with my family during the day, and leave the sickening worry and tears that pour down my face for the night.

I glance over to the clock, squinting to see where the hands are pointing through the darkness. Quarter to three in the morning- just over three hours until the sun breaks through the woodland and a new day starts. The house is as silent as ever, every single soul tucked in their duvets and dreaming of a better, safer world. Even nature has come to a standstill, no howls or barks from the wolves or bird songs to be heard.

My lips have been ripped to shreds at this point. I bite until specks of blood appear yet continue to ignore the harsh sting and keep doing it. Dad's noticed but hasn't said anything, knowing I've been lectured about my habit for my entire life, and I notice Blake's scowl whenever he enters the room and sees my constant chewing. He hasn't said anything either. In fact, since that night on the balcony, we haven't even kissed.

I put it down to the fact that the days have turned hectic since my thieves returned to me. There's a lot of people living here now, privacy becoming more and more of a luxury, and we've all been busy trying to figure out a plan. We need to get Enoch, Chelsea and Connie back, but we need to be smart about it. With all the meetings and duties of day to day life, I haven't had the proper chance to talk to Blake. Or I'm being a coward and avoiding him, the idea of a relationship being the last thing on my mind right now.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when a sound startles me from inside the house. My heart thunders for a few seconds as I wait in anticipation for the gunshots to follow, but there's nothing. Sighing, I climb out of bed and step out into the corridor, my bare legs hit with the draft circulating the house.

Aspen is on the floor a few metres away from my door. This isn't the first time this has happened and I doubt it'll be the last, her sleep-walking apparently due to the PTSD from whatever trauma she's been through. The plush carpet beneath my feet silences my footsteps and I crouch down when I near her.

"Aspen?" I whisper.

"Mum?"

I sigh again. "Sure."

She whimpers, still unconscious, and her leg twitches. "I want to go to the beach."

"We can go to the beach," I say. We're in the middle of the country, miles away from any beaches, but she doesn't need to know that. "But you need to sleep first."

Thankfully, she complies as I start to help her up. She walks with little support from me, and soon she falls back into bed when we reach her room, soft snores falling from her mouth. After covering her with her duvet, I make my way back to my room, and climb back into the warmth of my bed. I only worry for a little while until finally my eyes fall shut and I drift away.

By the time morning comes and I wake up again, I realise I'm not the only one in the room.

I squeeze both eyes shut, before peeking one open. "That's not creepy at all."

Blake's warm chuckle resonates through the room and I feel him shift on the bed. "I've not been here long, and it's not like I cut off a chunk of your hair or anything."

I narrow my eyes at him. "That makes me think you did."

We laugh together. It feels nice. He adjusts himself again, stretching out beside me. He's not too close and not too far, and after a few seconds he's taking my hand in both of his and playing with my fingers. I turn onto my side to face him.