Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter ten

Chloe

AFTER what felt like an eternity of tense silence, the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Justin's house. He climbed out without a glance in my direction, his indifference cutting deeper than I expected. My steps were hesitant as I followed him inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind me echoing in the quiet house.

Justin moved toward the kitchen, his shoulders stiff, his back to me. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, but I couldn't let it go. My thoughts churned, every doubt and worry rising to the surface until I couldn't hold back.

"Do you..." I started, my voice soft but shaking. I hesitated, then forced myself to continue. "Are you actually going to call her?"

Justin stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he turned to face me, his expression a mask of irritation. His brows furrowed as he took a step closer, and his voice was low and sharp when he finally spoke. "This is the second time you're asking about my sex life, Julia. If you're so interested in it, why don't you just say it?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My face burned, my throat tightening as I tried to steady myself. "I'm not!" I snapped back, though my voice betrayed me, shaky and defensive. "It's just... we live in the same house. If girls are coming and going, I'd like to know. That's all."

Justin let out a dry laugh, rolling his eyes. "If you don't want Laura to come over, just fucking admit it." His tone was taunting, daring me to confess something even I didn't fully understand.

I crossed my arms, a protective barrier against the vulnerability he was trying to expose. "It's not about that," I said firmly, though I hated how uncertain I sounded.

He studied me, his piercing gaze searching for cracks in my resolve. The corners of his mouth twitched, like he was enjoying this battle of wills.

"I should leave," I said finally, breaking the silence, my voice quieter now.

Justin's brow shot up, and he scoffed, shaking his head. "Where would you go, Julia? You don't know anyone but me here." He stepped closer, his voice cold, the words carried a sting. "You wouldn't survive a day without me."

The truth in his statement hit me like a wave, and I fought to keep the tears from stinging my eyes. I hated how right he was. I hated how trapped I felt, relying on him when I knew I couldn't afford to.

"I'll figure it out," I said, my voice steadier this time. I turned toward the door, needing to put space between us.

"Julia," he said with a sigh, his tone softer now, almost regretful. "I didn't mean it like that."

But he had. Or at least, it felt like he had. The words lingered, sharp and heavy in the air. I didn't trust myself to respond, didn't trust myself not to break in front of him.

Without another word, I opened the door and stepped outside. I didn't look back, even when I heard him call my name again, the sound muffled by the slam of the door behind me. The cool night air hit my face, but it did little to calm the storm inside me. My chest ached with every step I took down the sidewalk, my thoughts racing in a million directions.

I had to call my brother. He was my only lifeline, my only connection to the world outside this suffocating situation. The thought of hearing his voice grounded me, even as my legs moved faster, carrying me toward the payphone down the block.

The ache didn't go away, but the rhythmic sound of my footsteps on the pavement gave me something to hold onto. One step at a time. One breath at a time. That was all I could manage. For now, it would have to be enough.

Suddenly, my body collided with something solid—a wall, I thought, but no. Someone. My heart raced, pounding so hard it felt like it would tear out of my chest. My breath hitched as fear wrapped its icy hands around my throat. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks as I scrambled back, visions of danger flashing through my mind. Darkness surrounded me, pressing in, and I cursed myself for being so careless.

My eyes darted upward, searching for the face of my captor. Instead of cold menace, I was met with warm, steady eyes. The man in front of me wasn't threatening. His face was painted with concern, brows furrowed as though my brokenness had shaken him.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" His voice was soft, but there was urgency in his tone. He stepped closer, his hands gripping my arms firmly yet gently, steadying me as I wavered on unsteady legs.

"I'm so stupid," I choked out, my voice a thin whisper swallowed by my sobs.

His brow knit tighter as he crouched slightly to meet my eyes. One hand slid to my back, a calming motion that sent a strange wave of reassurance through me. "Hey," he said quietly, his voice like a soft anchor against my unraveling. "You shouldn't be out here alone. Not like this."

The words struck a chord in me. Justin had said almost the same thing when he found me—like an echo of his warning, now spoken by a stranger. My tears burned hotter at the memory, my chest tightening.

"What's your name?" the man asked gently.

For a moment, I hesitated, the truth fighting to surface before I forced it back down. "Julia," I lied, my voice trembling as I clung to the only facade that protected me.

He studied me, a flicker of doubt crossing his face before he nodded, seemingly accepting my words. "I'm Dean," he introduced himself. His voice was soft, like a lullaby meant to soothe a storm. He gestured toward his car—a Ford Mustang parked just ahead. "Come on. Let's get you off the street."

My brain screamed caution, but my body moved on autopilot, driven by the sheer need to escape. I let him guide me, and as he opened the passenger door, I hesitated for only a moment before sliding inside. The seat felt cold beneath me, grounding me in reality, but my trembling didn't stop.

Dean closed the door with a soft thud, circling the car and settling into the driver's seat. He glanced at me with a look so full of pity it made my stomach churn. "You came out of Jay's house, didn't you?" he asked, his voice careful, as if he didn't want to push too hard.

I stiffened, the mention of Justin jarring me. Dean ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slightly. "I wouldn't blame you," he murmured. "He can be... difficult. Asshole doesn't even begin to cover it." His hand moved hesitantly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

"Yes," I whispered, the admission barely audible.

The weight of everything hit me at once—Justin's words, the suffocating tension in the house, the lies I had to keep spinning, and the terrifying realization that I had nowhere to go. My body shook uncontrollably, hysteria clawing at me like a living thing.

Dean's gaze softened further, his brows furrowing as he reached for me again, his thumb brushing my temple. "You're shaking," he said quietly.

I wanted to argue, to tell him I wasn't worth saving, that my entire existence was tangled in lies and danger, but I couldn't form the words.

Dean sighed, his hand dropping back to the steering wheel. "Let's get you somewhere safe," he said, his voice resolute. His hand moved to the ignition, and the soft hum of the car starting filled the silence between us.

"You don't need to worry," he added, glancing at me as if to reassure me once more. "I've got you."

The words settled over me like a fragile balm. I exhaled a shaky breath, letting the tension release just slightly. Trust wasn't something I could afford, but for now, with Dean's steady presence and warm voice, I let myself believe him. Even if only for a little while.