Echoes (Dance with My Demons #2)

12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Avery

By the time I finish sorting everything, it's late.

Free time and dinner are long done. In fact, I think people have already been taken back to their rooms for the evening and are fast asleep.

My stomach can't stop growling from hunger. Dizziness threatens my vision, little black dots floating in orbit, but I finish it.

I fucking finish it.

Mr. Whittingham looks up from his desk, a mouth-watering steak in front of him that Teddy had dropped off before she left for the evening. His lips curl in disappointment, and that alone is reward enough for missing out on food. The smell of his extravagant dinner is torture, but I'm hopeful that this means I won't have to come back tomorrow.

"Done?" he asks, annoyed.

I nod. "Can I leave now?"

He chews the inside of his lip, contemplating the answer. He probably wants me to stay, wondering if he can dish out another shitty task.

Finally, he grunts to himself, pressing a button on his desk. A few seconds later, a guard enters, looking at him expectedly.

"Escort Ms. White back to her room, please," he orders without glancing at me.

I breathe a sigh of relief, quickly getting to my feet. I realize it's the same guard as earlier and I give him a glare, daring him to lay hands on me.

Rolling his eyes slightly, he stands aside so I can exit, hand poised on his taser.

The two of us walk side by side to the secure part of the facility, a wave of nausea and exhaustion creeping over me. I ignore the burning feeling in my stomach as my body rips itself apart from hunger. Maybe I can just sleep it off.

My door slams closed behind me as I enter my room, feet heading straight for the bed. I lay down on my side, curling up as I try to dismiss the overwhelming thoughts of food. Never did I expect to crave the moldy-ass food they serve here. I guess when we are desperate, we do stupid things.

Laying in the darkness, I wait for sleep to take me away.

I remember when I was younger, my father used to withhold food too. Even when he didn't, it would be rare to find items in the fridge that weren't alcohol. Sleep was always my comfort, because when you are away from your thoughts, life seems easier. You could tell yourself that the nightmares are irrational. Your body will switch off and you stop feeling the tearing sensation. And best of all, for a brief few hours, you can pretend you have a different life.

A creaking noise stirs me from my thoughts, my head lifting weakly from the pillow. Oddly enough, I feel like I'm used to late night visitors now—even if it is Damon.

"What can I do for you?" I ask quietly to the shadowed figure, unfazed.

Before a reply can come, I'm hit with the smell of food. I stiffen, wondering if I'm dreaming. Perhaps I'm just hallucinating now, like parched men in the desert seeing a mirage.

"Apparently you haven't eaten today."

My spine straightens rapidly as I shoot up in bed. But it's not the confirmation of food that has my attention— it's the voice.

"Grey?" I murmur wearily.

The door softly closes before footsteps head over to the bed. I'm still in disbelief, fighting back the urge to reach out and touch him. My fingers want to check that it's truly him—I'd know instantly.

Something is placed down next to me, and I reach over, my hand finding a plate.

"It's leftovers from yesterday," Grey answers, sending emotions crashing over me.

It's him. It's definitely him.

"Thank you," I breathe out, not reaching for the food.

I wish I could see him, but the dark makes it impossible. Seconds tick by in complete silence, and I'm surprised he doesn't just leave now that he's fulfilled his reason for the visit.

"You should eat," he grumbles. "I can hear your stomach growling."

My restraint snaps and I extend my hand through the shadows, finding his torso. He tenses up underneath me, his own hand grabbing my wrist gently.

"Don't, Avery."

It's not aggressive or angry—just a pained plea.

Slowly, I move my hand back, wanting to respect his wishes despite every single nerve in my body screaming for him. Grey keeps hold of my wrist for a second, before finally letting me go.

"You brought me food?" I ask gently.

"Yes," he answers. "Your absence was noticed today. I assume you were kept busy by the old cunt."

I nod, even though he can't see it. "Yeah."

I'm terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing, wanting him to stay for as long as possible. But as I fall into silence, it causes me to panic more. What if that drives him away? Should I say something else? Will he leave if I start eating?

Will he leave if I don't?

"Just eat, little killer," he sighs, exasperated.

"Will you stay for a few minutes?" I ask.

I hate how desperate I sound, but there's hope fluttering in my stomach at the mention of my old nickname. Maybe my words had more of an impact than I thought.

"I shouldn't."

"I know," I murmur. "I just really want you to."

Desperation turns to pity. But somehow… it works .

Grey sits down next to me on the bed, pushing the plate toward me. "It's the beef brisket," he says casually in a quiet voice. "It's not much, but it's something at least."

I reach down, plucking a piece in my fingers. It tastes just as good as yesterday, even if it's not fresh and hot.

He doesn't make an effort to leave so I take it as a good sign, eating happily. My body no longer feels like molten lava is flowing through it, and slowly, the stomach growls fade away.

Deciding to take a leap of faith, I choose my side officially. "Mr. Whittingham was asking a bunch of questions today. I think he knew that the society held a meeting last night."

"Hm. I'm not surprised. He generally likes to keep tabs. What did he ask?"

"Just if I had anything to report to him. He didn't mention you guys specifically, but I think he was trying to use chores and food as leverage."

"Cunt," Grey snaps under his breath. "He's a miserable power-tripping bastard."

I plop more meat into my mouth, nodding as I chew. "I didn't tell him anything," I admit. "I wouldn't ever. I just want you to know that."

The tension between us relaxes slightly. "I know," he responds. "Otherwise you would have been with the gen pop."

"You noticed I was missing?" I ask wearily.

He's already confirmed as much, but there's a part of me that needs to hear it directly. I know it would have been obvious from my absence in Charmaine's class, but I need this. I need something to hold on to.

"We all did."

I can't help but wonder who everyone is. Does he mean Damon too? I know he tracks everyone and everything, but my presence is the last thing that demon would give a shit about.

"Especially Ashwood."

My whole body freezes, unsure if I heard him correctly.

"What?" I mumble stupidly.

Grey laughs quietly, making me nervous. "He came and saw us at dinner—asked if we had seen you."

"Wait," I stop him. "He approached you?"

I've never seen Theo approach, well, anyone —let alone Grey and Damon.

"Yep," he confirms. "Said you'd been missing all day. Once I confirmed you were missing from class too, we realized where you were."

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

Grey shuffles backwards on the bed, resting his back against the wall. "I sent Damon to check it out. Connor told us you were in Arthur's office."

"Who the hell is Connor?"

"One of the guards," he replies casually. "Anyway, Ashwood expressed… concern that you likely hadn't been provided with food."

I have no idea how to take any of this. Grey and Theo interacting, worried about me starving, and now this late night encounter.

Pushing the empty plate away, I reposition myself against the wall next to Grey. "So, you brought me food?"

"Everyone needs to eat," he says quietly, but I know it's a deflection.

"Thank you. It means a lot."

"I should leave now," Grey mutters, starting to move.

I quickly grab his hand through the dark. "Wait."

He stills, fist curling under my palm. "Please, don't. I already know what you are going to say."

"You don't," I quickly reply. "I'm not going to stop you from leaving. I just wanted to say thank you again. And maybe," I pause. "Maybe we can be friends. Or at least be civil. We don't have to make things awkward."

Grey stays soundless, and it's that familiar silence before the inevitable heartbreak that I once again recognize.

"I can't be friends with you."

I know what he's going to say, but I want to fight him. No—I need to fight him on this.

My other hand reaches out, finding his face. I cup his cheek, envisioning his face in my mind.

"Don't just be friends with me then. Don't stay away from me. Please—I need you."

He moves so quickly, so stealthily, that by the time I've processed it, I'm already on my back. Grey leans over the top of me, face inches away from mine.

"I can't watch you be with someone else, little killer. It makes me want to kill him."

He should scare me. Everything about this should set off alarm bells, but they don't. I know him—I trust him.

"Grey—"

"The only reason I haven't killed him is because of you."

His lips brush over mine for the smallest fraction of time. Not a kiss, but not accidental either. There's something pulling us together, and I can feel him fighting it.

"I still love you," I whisper.

"I know you do."

My chest aches, but deep down, there's that niggling feeling. I'm not sure if it's hope or delusion, but surely, he still loves me too.

"Do you love Damon?" I ask suddenly, throwing him off-guard.

"What?"

"In any way, shape or form."

He pauses, unsure where this is going. "Of course I do. He's like a brother to me."

I nod, our foreheads grazing against each other. "Say for argument's sake, you love me too. We're all messed up here, right? We're the unhinged… the lost souls. But despite all that, you love more than one person. Because we're not bad people. Love isn't an emotion that bad people can process. We've been fucked over. Don't we deserve love?"

I'm rambling, already forgetting my main point. I think I'm trying to make it clear that I'm so beyond fucked up that I don't know how to love properly. Years and years of neglect in a loveless life have left me craving it. It makes sense I'm trying to overcompensate now—like how men with tiny dicks buy really expensive, massive cars.

"You deserve love, Avery," he answers. "Which is why I allowed him to live."

"But I want you too," I breathe out, grabbing his face in my hands. "You might not be mine, but I'm still yours."

Grey pushes off from the bed quickly, leaving me to scramble up.

"I have to go," he says, heading to the door. "If Arthur gives you any more trouble, let Damon know."

"Wait—"

It's too late. He's already gone, the door locking shut behind him. I run over, tugging on it with all my strength, but nothing happens.

I was so close. I know it in my soul.

The invisible string tightened again for the briefest moment, and I'm positive he felt it too.

I'm going to chase you, Grey. I'm not letting you go that easily.