Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,2

me.

Even though I turn into a live wire that only comes alive when he’s nearby.

Skin tingles.

Heart races.

But not all of his visits are pretty. Sometimes he reveals the darker side of his heart and torments me with his knowing grin and cryptic words.

To put it simply, he’s a bad habit that I just can’t break. A habit that everyone around me thinks doesn’t exist.

“Your husband’s dead….” My doctor’s words run across my mind.

I hug my stomach and hunch over, reminding myself to breathe.

They’re all wrong.

He’s not dead. It’s a lie.

He’s as real as it gets. My reaction is proof. But no one here believes me. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them.

Abruptly, I stand up and start to pace the room. My heels clicking against the floor. I count my steps all the way to twenty-five before I start over and count again.

My eyes start to get heavy.

He’ll be here soon and then I’ll have my proof. One of the nurses will catch him and they’ll let me go.

Because then they’ll see I’m not crazy.

Right?

I settle on my bed and obsessively stare at the clock. Time ticks away.

10:45

10:46

10:47

My eyelids start to droop. I fade in and out before finally giving up and letting exhaustion take over.

—

The door opens quietly.

I lift my head and watch him as he steps into my room. I smile slowly. I don’t know how much time has gone by. Maybe a few hours.

Maybe a few minutes.

All that matters now is that he’s here. He’s always owned any room he walks into. The half smirk he wears so well shows he knows the effect he has on people.

I stand up and follow him with my eyes. My hands toy with the hem of my dress.

He hasn’t changed and I’m convinced he never will. His blond hair is cut short, his face freshly shaven. Those austere hazel eyes.

Even though the lights are off, my blinds are open, letting in stripes of silver light. They run across his face, making him look like an apparition.

If it weren’t for the lines around his eyes I’d think he was immune to time. His clothes never change: a white undershirt, jeans, and a tan coat. It doesn’t matter what the temperature is. His outfit never changes.

“Have you missed me, Victoria?”

My memories might go in and out, but his voice and presence are impossible to forget. Bright scenes play behind my eyes. The fog fades slightly. I think I’m going to see the truth, but then the scene turns into an old filmstrip. It flickers. My mind strains, trying to hold on to the memory. Black dots appear, getting larger and larger until there’s nothing but darkness.

He asks his question again. This time, impatience is laced throughout his words.

I hesitate. I think no matter what the reaction he elicits from me, my heart and mind will always be at war with each other. One second I want to hold on to him and beg him not to leave, and the next I’m fighting the urge to get away from him as fast as I can.

“Yes,” I finally answer.

I blink and he’s directly in front of me. I stay perfectly still. This close and I get a whiff of his cologne. I stop myself from burying my face in his neck.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says.

His fingers skim down my arms and circle around my wrists. With one tug he pulls me to him. His hand curls around the back of my neck and pulls me toward him. The air around us shifts. He guides my head closer. Our lips are inches apart and I know it’s now or never. There’s no preamble good enough for what I’m about to say.

“I’m leaving Fairfax.” The words rush out.

The grip on my nape tightens imperceptibly.

An announcement like that should bring enthusiasm and happiness. Wes reacts with neither. He just smiles that confident smile, as if he knows something that I don’t. “Why do you want to leave? This place is your home.”

“Not anymore.” With both palms on his chest, I gently pull back. “They need to see you. They need to know that you’re not dead. You have to help me.”

I glance down at my hands, seeing that they are curled into fists, tightly holding on to his shirt.

Wes extracts my hands and moves them away. “I can’t help you.”

“Yes, you can.” My heart pounds like a drum; I have made it past the first hurdle. I can’t give up now. “I know you