Shards of Us (16 page)

Chapter Fifteen

I don't tell Sebastian what the man told me. I don't have the will to, not until I know for sure.

As soon as we make it home, I race straight to the bathroom and lock the door behind me, then proceed to puke several times. I let it all out of me, let
out all of the pain and the churning in my stomach, let all of the memories escape me. I start crying too, crying through everything, and I crumple back, sinking against the wall, and I just cry and cry because I don't know what else to do.

I feel so terrible, like I just lost my parents all over again, because the one person I have left in my life might be the cause of why it was so bleak beforehand.

None of it feels real, honestly. It's like I'm dreaming, and having one of the worst nightmares in the history of nightmares. Sebastian couldn't do that, right? He couldn't kill my parents.

The worst part is I don't even know anymore. He said himself he'd done bad things, so what's to stop him from doing something like that? How can I even trust him? I try to tell myself that I'm overreacting, that whoever that man was is just trying to throw me off or something. Or maybe it's just a practical joke or whatever. I don't know. And I most certainly don't know how to figure out the truth. I can't possibly bring myself to ask
Sebastian in case I'm wrong, and I'm pretty much locked up in this house, so I'd have no other way of finding out.

Another sob racks through me at the thought. I'm trapped in a house with a man
who may have killed my parents.

Just then, there is a knock at the door
. I jolt up, my stomach hurting. "You all right in there?" It's Sebastian's voice, filled with concern.

"Yes," I say, barely keeping my voice from cracking. "I'm fine. Just a little sick."

Sebastian pauses. "I'm coming in."

"No!" I say quickly, then realize how I sound and add, "I don't want you to see me like this."

"Angel, if you think I care what you look like then you really--"

"I just want to be alone," I say, cutting him off. "Okay?"

"Angel--"

"
Sebastian, please."

He sighs. "Okay. But if there is
something wrong, you'd tell me, right?"

"Right," I say, feeling sick all over again. "You'd be the first to know."

That seems to satisfy him. He starts walking away, down the hall, to the living room. I hold everything in until the sound of his footsteps has faded away, and then I break out into a fit of sobs and more throw-up.

I spend most of the afternoon in the bathroom. I've lost all the willpower to get up. I just sit there, holding back the tears, racing to piece together a reason why
Sebastian would never kill my parents, a reason I can really believe, so I can finally move on from this.

But I can't. I can't think of anything. Because Sebastian
… he's the kind of person who would follow orders. He would kill without a thought. And that scares the hell out of me.

I don't even know why I'm giving so much credit to this one thing
a man I don't even know said. I mean, after all, I'm sure there were other Mr. and Mrs. Knights with a daughter murdered two years ago, but still. Something about the way he said it… it didn't feel like he was lying. He was definitely trying to rattle me for whatever reason, but he didn't sound like he was making it up. He sounded like he was telling the truth, and was certainly more than happy to do so.

I feel sick again at the thought.

Sebastian killed my parents.

Sebastian
. killed. my parents.

Would he really do that to me? To us? Would he really let himself love me, even after he took away my family? Does he really have that little moral
s? I tell myself that he doesn't. I tell myself it's a lie. I tell myself that my Sebastian would never hurt me like that. I tell myself that I trust him. And I believe it, kind of. But a part of me can't help but feel that the man, whoever he is, is telling the truth.

Come dinner time, I finally make my way out of the bathroom. I can barely stand, and I gulp down several cups of water as soon as I reach the kitchen. The liquid feels good against my raw throat, feels natural.

I collapse on the couch where Sebastian is sitting, but I don't dare look at him. I can't meet his gaze anymore, not without remembering that cold-blooded look I saw in him last week. Not without thinking how easy it could have been for him to use that same look on my parents, right before he pulled the trigger.

The possibility makes my heart sink.

I could very well be falling in love with the man who murdered my parents.

I try to remind myself that there is no way it's true, but the more I say it, the less I believe
it.

Sebastian
doesn't say anything to me the whole time we're in the living room, which is a total relief. I can see he wants to though, can see how he wants to ask me what's wrong, but he doesn't. So we just sit on the couch and watch TV, letting time slip away, and I try my best to get lost in the pointless soap operas, but I can't anymore. The pounding in my heart is too strong, and a migraine is coming on, making my head hurt all over.

Soon, my mind drifts back to the man at the little supermarket. There was
something about what he said, how he was acting like I knew who he was… it didn't feel right for some reason. It's like I'm supposed to know him. But there's only one person I know of who knows Sebastian, and that person is… Marco.

My stomach seizes.

Marco.

Could that man have been
Marco?

And if so,
Marco could very well be lying about Sebastian, right? Just to turn me? I tell myself yes. I tell myself it's true. I try not to question it.

After a few hours of sitting on the couch,
Sebastian brings me dinner. We eat in silence, or at least he does. I don't really eat. My appetite has totally evaporated after today.

I catch
Sebastian glancing between me and my food a few times with obvious worry, but he doesn't say anything, to my relief. He just watches me, trying to figure out what's wrong.

After a while, he stands up and clears my plates, leaving me alone in the living room. I
star trembling all over despite myself as he's gone, trying to make sense of all of this. But one thing is clear: I need to figure out if that man really was Marco.

When
Sebastian returns, sitting down beside me, I turn to him. "Sebastian," I say quietly, taking a deep breath to ensure my voice sounds as calm as possible. "Can you tell me… what Marco looks like? Just so I know?"

He narrows his eyes as soon as I say it.
He looks worried, maybe even suspicious. "Why do you want to know?" he says, raising his voice.

I look away. "I just do. I need to know
… who to watch out for. Don't I? In case something happens?"

"
Nothing
will happen, angel," Sebastian says, hard and determined, nuzzling up against me.

"But in case it does. I want to know." I bite my lip. It takes a lot of effort to keep my voice from shaking. "Do you have a picture of him?"

Sebastian sighs, but nods. He goes into the kitchen and searches for something, but I don't follow him. I keep my eyes glued to the TV screen, hating myself and Sebastian and Marco or whoever the man was for making all of this happen.

Sebastian
returns holding up a photograph. It's old and dusty, and I take it gingerly, squinting to make out what it is.

The picture
is of a man dressed in a suit like Sebastian's carrying a large gun and smirking at the camera. He's tall, with slick dark hair and a rough face. He definitely looks familiar, but it's not until I see the man's eyes that I know for sure.

The man's eyes are the same deep green as I'd seen before, so strong, even through the photo.

My heart stops. My stomach churns.

The man I talked to was
Marco.

I know it with every fiber of my being
then.

I want to cry. To scream. To figure out a world in which any of this makes sense.

Why would Marco approach me but not kidnap me? If he's really after me, why did he only talk to me, rather than hurt me like Sebastian said he wants to? And would Marco lie about Sebastian to get me to turn on him? He would, right? But at the same time, I'm not so sure he was lying.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My hands have started trembling as I clutch the photo in my hand, wishing I could find a way to get some answers
. But there is nothing. There is no way. I'm stuck here, and the only way I can know for sure is to ask Sebastian.

I glance over at him, in his fancy suit, his beautiful
dark hair spilling over his forehead, and I just don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I can ask that, especially if I'm wrong.

My toes curl. How come whenever I get even a shred of happiness in my life,
someone is always there to rip it right back? How come everything ends badly for me? How come I never get the happy endings I read about in books?

"Angel, tell me what's wrong,"
Sebastian says a little harshly, his eyes narrowing. "Have you seen Marco before? Has he tried to hurt you?"

"No!" I say quickly. "No, nothing like that! It's just
…" I open and close my eyes, handing Sebastian back the picture and working hard to keep my hands from trembling. Flashes of Sebastian holding a gun on my parents start racing through my mind, and it's all feeling more and more plausible by the second. "It's just that this is all so much, you know?" I say at last. "I don't know what's going on anymore."
Or who to trust
, I add silently.

"Let me make the pain better,"
Sebastian says, reaching over and wrapping his arms around mine. But tonight, it's uncomfortable for some reason. He doesn't hold me any differently than he used to, but now it feels so wrong, like something is very, very off about feeling him beside me. Touching Sebastian just makes me feel sick, and images of my parents dying, of my dad jumping to save my mom and Sebastian pulling the trigger on them fill my mind.

The police said it was a robbery, but
Sebastian is a professional. If he really did kill them, he could have easily made it seem like a robbery, right? But why would he want them dead? Did Marco call the hit, or did Sebastian do it on his own? I shake my head. I don't even know anymore. So many questions race through my mind, but I don't know the answers to any of them. All I know is that I may very well be in love with my parents' murderer.

Sebastian
brings me closer into his arms, holding me gently, loving, like he always does. He starts kissing the top of my head again, but it doesn't feel as comforting as before. Instead, it just makes me want to push him off and leave this place. All I can think about is my parents' bodies. All I can think is that he may have done it.

Sebastian
moves his kiss down from my head to my neck, holding me by my arms, dragging his tongue along my pale skin. It feels wrong, though. It feels so wrong. And I want him off of me so badly that I can't help but shove him away, perhaps too roughly. "Not tonight," I whisper, my hands shaking.

He frowns, cupping my chin
and looking right into my eyes. "What's wrong?" he says, urgently this time.

"Nothing.
" I roll over. "I'm just tired. Please leave me alone."

"No."
Sebastian stands up, his eyes flaring. "
No
. I'm done leaving you alone. I'm done seeing you get hurt. I just want you to feel better, angel, and you were better until I gave you some freedom today."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Stop it,
Sebastian. Just fucking lock me up here or whatever you're going to do to me, okay? I need to go to bed."

Sebastian
stops. Steps forward. Anger radiates from him, and I can hear it in his breath, can feel his eyes burning into mine, even though mine are closed. "Why do you think that?" he says, raising his voice. "Why do you think I'm locking you up here?"

I shake my head, annoyed.
"You said yourself I'm your prisoner, remember, Sebastian?" I say too harshly. "I'm just the idiot who you lock up and fuck and move on with after a few weeks. You're probably going to kill me and dump me like you do to everyone else after you're done with me."

"Don't you
dare
say that." The hurt in Sebastian's voice is palpable. "Don't you fucking
dare
! I love you, angel. Don't you get that?
I love you.
I would never, ever hurt you. And yes, you
were
my prisoner. But that was before. Things have changed. You aren't my prisoner anymore. You're my lover. We're meant for each other, don't you see? You love me even for my flaws. You're my hero, my savior, and I'm just returning the favor."

My eyes shoot open, and I stand up to face him, nostrils flaring. "How is
this
returning the favor? How is locking me up doing me any good? Because it isn't, Sebastian. It's doing nothing. You're--you're running me." My voice cracks. "You're ruining me, your own lover."