Chapter 129
Sarah’s POV
I couldn’t sleep.
The bed was too big, too soft, and the room was too quiet, while my mind was too loud. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Marcus’s face.
I don’t think I’ve ever resented anyone in my life, but I do with him.
Fucking asshole.
I threw off the covers and got up. It was almost two in the morning, and the house was silent.
Maybe walking around would help clear my head and burn off some of this nervous energy.
I padded down the hallway in my bare feet and sweatpants. I had no idea where I was going, but I chose to explore p>
My eye stopped on the door of the gym, which was slightly open with light coming out. I pushed it gently and peeked inside.
It had been so long since I’d been in a gym since I gave up my life five years ago, I quit a lot of things, gymming included.
I stepped inside the smell of clean sweat and rubber, the soft hum of machines on standby.
It felt familiar.
I walked to a treadmill and was about to step on when a voice cut through the silence.
“What are you doing here p>
I spun around.
Marcus stood in the doorway with sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a tank top that showed his arms, his shoulders, his chest. His hair was messy, like he’d been working out. He looked… God, he looked like a problem.
“I was just I stepped back.
He walked closer, his eyes were hard. “You shouldn’t be here. This part of the house is off limits at night p>
“I didn’t know. I was just walking p>
“Walking where? To find something to steal? To snoop through my things?” His voice was cold. Accusing.
I stared at him. “What? No. I was just walking because I couldn’t sleep, and how dare you call me a thief p>
He stopped, and just for a second, then his jaw tightened.
“Leave,” he said. “Go back to your room p>
“I was leaving anyway.” I started walking toward the door. I just wanted to get past him, but as I tried to walk by, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
“Wait p>
I looked down at his hand, then up at his face. “Let go of me p>
“I told you before,” he said, his voice low. “Stay in your lane, do your fucking job, and don’t go snooping around where you don’t belong. What part of that don’t you understand p>
“You’re hurting me,” I said quietly. His grip was tight. Too tight.
He looked at his hand for a second, something flickered in his eyes, then it was gone.
He didn’t let go.
“I don’t like you,” he said flatly. “I don’t trust you, and every time I turn around, you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be, doing something you shouldn’t do p>
“I was walking! In a house I’m supposed to live in for a year! Am I not allowed to walk now p>
“You’re allowed to walk to the kitchen. To the garden, to your room, but not to my private gym at two in the morning p>
I yanked my wrist hard, and he finally let go. I stepped back, rubbing the red mark on my skin.
“You know what?” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “You’re such an asshole. A complete total asshole. Now I see why you’re lonely, why you have no one. You push everyone away with your coldness, your rules, and your suspicion. You think everyone is out to get you, but maybe, just maybe, people would actually care about you if you gave them a chance, but you won’t because you’re too busy being a miserable, lonely jerk p>
He stared at me with his face unreadable.
I didn’t wait for a response; instead, I turned and walked out fast and down the hall. Away from him.
My wrist was throbbing, and my heart was pounding in fear that he wouldn’t come after me.
I was passing by Ryan’s room when I heard a sound, small and muffled.
Crying.
I stopped and listened, and there it was again, a little whimper.
I pushed the door open slowly. The room was dark, lit only by a small nightlight, and in the bed, Ryan was thrashing.
His little body was twisting, and his face was scrunched up while tears were streaming down his cheeks.
“Mommy no,” he whimpered. “Please don’t, I’ll be good I’ll be good, a good boy p>
My heart broke into a million pieces.
I rushed to his bed and sat down gently. “Ryan. Ryan, wake up, sweetie. It’s just a dream p>
He didn’t wake; he kept thrashing. “No! Don’t hit me! Please p>
“Ryan!” I said louder, gently shaking his shoulder. “Ryan, wake up p>
His eyes flew open, scared as he looked at me like he didn’t know me before recognition flooded his face, and he lunged at me.
He grabbed me around the neck, his little arms squeezing tight as he buried his face in my shoulder and sobbed.
“Sarah,” he cried. “Sarah, Sarah, Sarah p>
“I’m here, baby,” I whispered, holding him tight. “I’m here… It was just a dream p>
“Don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice muffled against my neck. “Please don’t leave me again p>
My heart squeezed. “I’m not leaving Ryan. I’m right here p>
“She’s going to hit me,” he whimpered. “She’s going to be so mad. She always hits when she’s mad p>
My blood ran cold. “Who, baby? Who hits you p>
He didn’t answer; he just cried harder. His little body shook with sobs.
“Ryan, who are you talking about? Who hits you p>
But he just clung to me, sobbing until finally, exhausted, his sobs turned to sniffles, then to quiet breathing.
He had fallen asleep in my arms.
I didn’t move, I just sat there, holding him, stroking his hair, my mind racing.
She always hits when she’s mad.
Stephanie?
Was she hitting him?
Oh God.
Oh God no.
I held him tighter, poor Ryan; he wasn’t just dealing with abandonment but with something much worse.
And his father didn’t know. Or if he did?
I sat there for a long time just holding Ryan.
His little hand clutched my shirt even in sleep, like he was afraid I would disappear.