- 2.
Perhaps accustomed to my usual chatter, Ethan broke the silence. “Why so quiet? Tired?” His tone held a fleeting echo of his former gentleness. I instinctively touched my lips. I wanted to ask him how he’d feel if
someone had sewn his lips shut with a needle
46..
L
and thread, just for reciting a prayer wrong.
How he’d feel having to endure the ripping
pain with every word, the metallic taste of
blood filling his mouth. How he’d feel having
to stifle his cries despite the agony. After
experiencing that, would he still want to talk?
Ethan’s knuckles tapped impatiently against
the steering wheel. Remembering the
director’s warning, I suppressed my emotions.
“Nothing to say.” He glanced at me. “Playing
hard to get now? Act normal when we see
Mom and Dad.” Normal? What was normal?
My breath grew short, the air suffocating. I
fumbled for my inhaler. Seeing it, Ethan’s
expression faltered, his eyes shifting away.
“Asthma acting up again?” Yes, he knew
L
about my chronic asthma, yet he’d
abandoned me in that hellhole, never once
sending medicine. If it weren’t for a girl in my
dorm sharing hers, I wouldn’t have survived. I
put the inhaler away. “Sorry to bother you.”
Ethan relaxed visibly, a slight smirk playing on
his lips. “You’ve learned your lesson.” At a
red light, he leaned closer. The scent of his
cologne made my stomach churn. I avoided
his gaze, but he gripped my chin, forcing me
to meet his eyes. Satisfied, he nodded.
“Good. You’re finally not looking at me with
that disgusting look anymore. Sending you
there was the right thing to do.”
- 3.
