He gauges my expression. “Are you ready to take this step, son?”
“I…need to think about it.” I dab my lips with the napkin and stand up on slightly unsteady feet. “I have to work on an assignment. Please enjoy the rest of your dinner.”
I walk out of the dining room with a calm I don’t feel. Instead of going to the studio, I take the stairs and head to my room.
As soon as I’m inside, I fall on the bed headfirst and wish I could suffocate myself with the fucking pillow.
Black ink creeps over me, pushing weight on my back until I’m panting for air.
I reach underneath the pillow and snatch my Swiss Army knife, then yank away my watch and hold the blade against my wrist.
One cut. A small one.
I just need to breathe.
I want to fucking breathe.
My phone vibrates and I startle. When I see the name lighting the screen, I let the knife fall to the mattress.
Nikolai.
The more the phone vibrates, the harder I breathe, scrabbling, fighting for air that doesn’t exist. My trembling finger hovers over the screen like every time he calls, but like always, I don’t answer.
One missed call appears on the screen.
Then, as usual, a text follows.
Nikolai
Answer the fucking phone.
I open his texts and flip onto my back to read them, inhaling deeply, holding it in my churning stomach, then puffing out the air in a long, shaky exhale.
Little by little, I can feel the ink retreating to the shadows, even if its invisible hands are still strangling my cursed wrist.
I scroll up, reading all the texts he’s sent since I left the island after I made sure Lan’s wrist was safe.
At that time, I needed to get away from it all and figured being with my parents was the perfect solution.
I’m not so sure anymore.
It hurts everywhere, whether I’m on the island or here.
Still, I can’t help rereading his texts. They’ve gone from raging to pleading to raging again. He calls me twenty times a day like a damn stalker.
A couple of days ago, he stopped the texts and calls altogether, so I thought he’d given up, but he called me just now. What does that mean?
Am I supposed to feel hopeful because of it?
I exit the texts and open Instagram, then go to his profile like a junkie. He hasn’t posted anything for a long time, but I scroll through the old pictures. As if I don’t have every single one saved on my phone in a special folder.
A knock startles me before Mum’s voice filters through. “Bran, hon, you awake?”
I throw the knife under the pillow and sit up in bed to put on my watch, then clear my throat. “Yeah. Come in.”
My fingers tighten around the phone, keeping it against my chest like makeshift armor as the door opens.
Mum and Dad walk in with handfuls of snacks, popcorn, and beer.
“Film night,” Dad says. “Don’t think you’re escaping.”
I smile and slide my phone into my pocket. “Shouldn’t we go to the home cinema for that?”
They abandon the contents of their arms on my desk and sit on either side of me.
“Before we do that…” Mum trails off. “I wanted to have a little chat first.”
“Okay,” I say warily.
“I wanted to apologize, honey. I was reflecting on my words and realized that in my attempts to get you the best deal possible, I’ve been pushing you, and I think that made you uncomfortable. If you prefer Maxine over Grace, go for it. I’ll stand behind you every step of the way.”
“Really?”
“Of course, Bran. You can tell me these things head-on. You know that, right?”
I nod.
“Do you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Mum. Anyone in your position would think it’s an honor to be represented by Grace. But I’m not at your level yet. I don’t want that pressure.”
“I understand. One step at a time, right?”
My smile is much more genuine this time.
“It wasn’t so hard to express yourself, was it, son?” Dad asks, throwing a comforting arm on my shoulder.
“We’re your parents, not your guardians or people you need to be wary around.” Mum takes my hand in her smaller ones. “You don’t have to think about it when you talk to us. You can tell us what’s on your mind freely.”
My breathing comes easier with every inhale and exhale as I summon all the courage I have and say, “Mum, Dad. I want to tell you something.”
“Anything,” she says and Dad gives an encouraging nod.