𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 // 𝐇.𝐒.

43.

Chapter 43

I hate him.

I hate everything about him.

I'm recalling every single moment I've had with him. The ones where I've looked at him and thought, maybe he's the only person left I could trust. To think all of it could've been a lie—every kiss, every delicate touch, or whisper to the ear—makes me feel sick.

I thought he was an intricate being. I studied him, attempted to read him like a book off a shelf. After reading between the lines, I discovered he's calculated more than anything.

And even if I hear him out, I don't think I can ever trust a word he says again.

I turn off the stove once I've finished cooking pasta for Sage and me. I step away from the pot to clean up the space around me. After wiping the countertops down, I hang the rag on a hook and step out to find Sage.

I call her name. "Dinner is—" I pause when she no longer waits for me on the couch. I look around when I begin to wonder where she could have gone. "Sage?" I call again.

I take a peek over towards the balcony, but she's not there. I sigh, beginning to hope she's in the bathroom and not somewhere she shouldn't be. With fingers crossed behind my back, I start heading towards the hall to look for her there. "Sage?"

I stop. As my heart drops, I forget how to breathe when the door I purposely kept shut had been wide open.

No, no, no.

Heavy heart palpitations and warmth tinting at my cheeks, Sage is in the master bedroom. She stands in the middle of the floor with her backpack glued over her shoulder.

Standing in my place right outside the door, I can't find it in myself to move. I swallow and bring a hand over my chest when I feel a sharp pain. "Sage," I say her name again and tighten my jaw. "Sage, you can't be in there. Come?"

But the girl doesn't move. Slowly, she turns to walk further into the room when her curious mind leads her elsewhere.

Oh, God.

I bring a hand over my forehead when I didn't think I'd have to face my fear today. I don't want to step into that room where I was first deceived. I worked hard to get the image of her out of my head. The first few days were excruciatingly insufferable. I hardly slept, but when I did sleep I'd wake up drenched in sweat.

All I could see every time I closed my eyes was her. I almost convinced myself that she was haunting me.

Eventually, the nightmares stopped when I realized my bad habits had been the reason behind them. I focused on getting my life back on track. I started by maintaining a balanced diet and with exercise. It all helped me sleep better, but it didn't cure the anxiety I felt during the day over missing one of Louis's phone calls.

"Sage," I say her name one more time hoping she would walk out of the room so that I wouldn't have to step inside. I heave a sigh in frustration when she avoids me.

I shut my eyes, assuring myself that nothing will happen if I step foot into the room for the first time since what happened over a month ago. So, I pace forward. The floorboards creak underneath my feet when I make it past the door. I then open my eyes when I come to a full stop.

Despite the dust that has been collecting all around, it's as if nothing tragic has happened in this room. I then suck in a breath when the fresh memory slices through me anyway. It comes in flashes. From being struck in the head to being tied to a chair, I look down to my left when I remember the exact place where her body had dropped dead.