“Okay.”

“The thing is, Bailey… Nate—he won’t go down there. Not now. Not ever. Don’t ask him why. It’s just the way it is, and it’s somethin’ we have to deal with in order to protect you. You’ll be safe there. That’s what it’s built for.”

Whatever words were running through my mind stayed there, trapped, just like me. I nodded, agreeing to my fate, my fate without the one and only thing worthy of my tears.

*

Tiny asked me to pack what I needed to bring while he moved my mattress to the basement. All I had were Nate’s clothes I’d been living in as well as the stuff they’d bought me.

The door opened behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I knew it was Nate. I tried not to take it personally, the fact that he’d so easily given up on me. On us. I felt pathetic. I felt stupid. And I felt so insignificant, which was dumb considering I’d spent the last few years feeling this exact same emotion.

He cleared his throat to get my attention, but I refused to turn around, refused to face him. I was embarrassed and the tears forming were proof of that.

“Bailey?”

I shut my eyes and let his voice replay in my head, knowing full well it may be the last time I’d hear it. His footsteps neared, and I tensed, waiting for him to say or do something to completely break me.

He covered my hands with his to stop me from folding what little clothes I had. “Will you look at me?”

I couldn’t.

He placed a small bag containing my needles and insulin on the dresser next to the pile of clothes and said, “I got everything ready. You’ll need to do it on your own now…” I could hear the sadness mixed with pity in his voice, and maybe I should’ve cared, but I didn’t. He grasped my hands softly, but I yanked them away. “Bailey…” He bent down, his hands holding mine again. When his face lowered, I turned away from him. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to hear his stupid words, or feel his stupid kiss, or love his stupid affection. “You don’t understand…”

“You’re right, Nate. I don’t.” I looked up at him, begging for an explanation, but all he did was stare back, pleading with me to leave it alone.

Neither of us got what we wanted.

And when Tiny entered the room, and Nate dropped my hands like they were balls of fire, I knew it was over.

It had never even begun.

“Ready?” Tiny asked.

I picked up my medicine bag and whatever clothes I could carry while Tiny took the rest, and when Nate whispered my name, I didn’t respond.

*

There was one light. A tiny bathroom. No windows. I assume at one stage there was probably a door to the outside, but a steel sheet had taken its place. Dust was the only thing that occupied the big open space.

A shiver ran up my spine as I sat on the mattress. It was cold, not just the temperature, but the atmosphere. The basement door opened, and footsteps thud down the stairs. I watched with bated breath as feet came into view, hoping it was Nate.

My heart sank when Tiny appeared, a plate and a drink in his hand. He made his way over and set them both on my nightstand, then towered over me. “I’m working on what happened to the security. No one should’ve been able to get in. It should be fixed tomorrow. Until then, just…” He didn’t bother finishing his sentence. Once he was back at the bottom of the stairs, he said, “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to make sure you take your insulin on time.” And then he was gone.

I looked at the plate of food, tears filling my eyes, and a surge of anger swept through me. I tried to contain it, but it was impossible. A harsh scream left me as I threw the food against the wall.

Stupid plate.

Stupid heart.

Stupid fucking life.

All of it was broken, shattered into a thousand pieces.

Nate

I saw the hurt in her eyes, heard the pain in her voice, felt the anger that consumed her, but what was I supposed to do? I had no other options. Of course, I could tell her the truth, but once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. I’d rather her not know at all than change the way she looked at me. I’d even rather have her hate me. Besides, how the hell do you tell someone that she was going to live, sleep, breathe in the exact place you shot and killed your own mother?

*

Looking at the basement through the screen of my laptop was almost as bad as physically being there. I’d never had the need to switch to this view on the surveillance stream. In fact, I’d asked Tiny to remove the camera completely, but he’d said no—just in case we needed it someday. It was someday.

He swore under his breath when her scream distorted the speakers. I slammed the screen shut. “Be here at seven tomorrow morning,” I told him.

I carried the laptop under my arm as I started for my room. Once the door was closed behind me, I went straight to the bathroom and gripped the edge of the sink. It was the only way I could keep standing. The only thing I could do to slow the beating of my heart. The meds from earlier hadn’t helped, and I knew it was too soon to take them again. Still, I opened the cabinet and flipped the lid on the orange bottle and poured two in my mouth. Then I got into bed, opened my computer and spent the next hour watching her cry as she sat on the mattress, her head pillowed by her folded arms resting on her raised knees. Her shoulders heaved with every sob. She stayed like that, never once lifting her gaze, never coming up for air.

*

For hours, I tossed and turned in bed knowing sleep would be impossible. At close to three in the morning, I succumbed to the inevitable and opened my computer, entering the passwords that would allow me to see her again.

She hadn’t moved.

“Quit being a fuckin’ pussy,” I whispered. And even as I felt the puke rise and the adrenaline pump through my veins, I couldn’t help but get out of bed and take the steps to reach her. I froze just outside the basement door, my fingers curled around the handle. I tried to breathe through the cluster-fuck running through my mind and pushed back memories and visions of that room.

Bailey. I closed my eyes and thought of her, and the only thing I could think about was how she made me feel, how much I wanted to be with her, how much I needed her.

Bailey

The door opened, and I lifted my gaze, watching a shadow form on the basement stairs. His footsteps were quiet, but fast. I kept my eyes on Nate as he approached me, wondering what the hell he was doing down here. He eyed the shattered plate and discarded food on the floor, and when his eyes trailed back to mine, he smiled. His reaction was odd, but through my tears and my heartache, I smiled back. Squatting down in front of me, he wiped my cheeks with his thumb. “Is it okay if I stay with you?”

All air left my lungs, replaced with new breath, one I needed to get through the night. I got under the covers, scooting to one side to let him in. Once he was lying down, he stretched his arm out, inviting me. I lay my head on his chest and curled into him, my hands gripping his shirt. “It’s pretty shitty in here,” he mumbled, kissing the top of my head.

I didn’t respond.

“We’ll get you a proper bed down here, a fridge and microwave and everything else you’ll need.”

I looked up at him, my pathetic smile still in place, and then I leaned up and kissed him quickly. “I have everything I need right here.”