Absolution | +18

Chapter 32

Val

The first thing I felt was the throbbing. A sharp, relentless pulse in my skull that made me wince before I could even open my eyes. My head felt like it had been split open, and every breath sent a dull ache through my side. I couldn't move, at least not without the pain reminding me it was there—waiting.

The room was quiet, too quiet, and the bed beneath me wasn't mine. Panic flickered at the edges of my mind, but I pushed it down long enough to open my eyes. Blinking slowly, I took in my surroundings, my vision blurry at first. This wasn't my apartment. The walls were unfamiliar, a shade of grey I didn't recognize, and everything around me was too neat, too... precise. I shifted slightly, wincing as the pain in my side flared again. Where am I?

My head swam as I tried to think, tried to piece together what had happened. My memory was a haze, fragments of images flashing behind my eyes—Sam... the date... the Underground... and then—

I was stabbed.

The realization hit me like a freight train, and I instinctively tried to sit up. Big mistake. The second I moved, the pain shot through me like a knife, and I had to bite down hard to keep from crying out. I forced myself to breathe slowly, to stay still, though every part of me wanted to move, to figure out where I was and how I'd gotten here.

Slowly, I turned my head, grimacing at the effort it took. My eyes scanned the room, and then they landed on him.

Silas.

He was slouched over, sitting in a chair pulled up to the bed, his tattooed arms folded on the mattress, his head resting on top of them. His dark hair was tousled, messy, as if he hadn't moved for hours. He looked... peaceful, almost, in the dim light of the room. The sight of him there—so close, so still—sent a strange shiver down my spine.

Why is he here?

I lay there, staring at him, confusion twisting through me. The last thing I remembered was the Underground. The fight. Blood. Pain. But now... I was here, in his apartment. I didn't know how I got here, or why. And seeing him like this didn't make any sense. Silas didn't care about me. He hated me. I knew that much.

But he'd brought me here.

I swallowed, my throat dry, and forced myself to move. It took all the strength I had, but I slowly slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake him. My bare feet hit the cold floor, sending a chill up my legs, but I barely felt it. Every muscle screamed in protest, my side burning with each movement, but I couldn't stay in that bed any longer. I had to figure out what was going on.

I stood for a moment, swaying slightly, trying to steady myself. My eyes flicked back to Silas—he hadn't moved, still breathing evenly. I exhaled softly and padded quietly out of the room, leaving him behind. The hallway outside was dimly lit, and as I wandered through it, I couldn't help but notice how pristine everything was. The apartment was spotless—everything in its place, clean and orderly, not a speck of dust or clutter anywhere.

This is his place, I realized. Silas's. It was too precise, too cold to belong to anyone else.

I stumbled upon a bathroom and stepped inside, flicking on the light. The brightness stung my eyes at first, and I blinked rapidly, adjusting. My reflection in the mirror made me stop in my tracks. I froze, my eyes widening as I took in the sight before me.

The outfit I'd worn last night was gone. Instead, I was dressed in a black T-shirt that hung loosely on my body, its fabric soft but unfamiliar. My side was tightly bandaged, the white gauze peeking out from beneath the shirt. I raised a trembling hand to my face, my fingers brushing lightly over the stitches near my temple, and I winced at the tenderness. My lip was still swollen, but it had been cleaned up, the gash from the fight now stitched neatly.