Shannon’s Reviews > Scales & Sacrifice > Status Update

I stared up at the glowing flowers on the ceiling and felt something inside me come quietly undone. No one had ever done this. Not once in my adult life had someone seen the weight of everything I carried and simply, without being asked, tried to take some of it. Not a piece of it. All of it. Just for one evening. Just so I could breathe. My face was already wet, hiding the tears that ran down my cheek.

My thumb brushed his lower lip, and he stilled completely at the touch. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For all of this. For the books, and your thoughtfulness, and—” My voice caught. “For asking June.” Something shifted in his expression. The hunger was still there, dark and immense, but beneath it was something far older and quieter. He turned his head and pressed his lips to my palm.

“You haven’t seen every part,” I whispered. He hadn’t seen the grief or the way it had hollowed me out, hadn’t seen how caregiving and loss and years of quiet desperation had slowly warped the shape of me from the inside. “I want to,” he said, lowering his head until our mouths were barely apart. “Will you show me?”

I stumbled down an alleyway, leaning against the brick wall as I collected myself from whatever the fuck just happened. If there had been a million scenarios thrown at me for how I thought today might end, this was not one of them.

“I couldn’t stay,” he said finally, his voice low and dangerous. “Why?” I demanded. “Because I was—” He stopped. Looked away. His shoulders were rigid, every muscle in his body tense. I’d never seen him like this. “I was angry.” Angry? What reason could he have to be so angry?

“Same time next week,” I managed, my voice barely steady. He didn’t respond immediately. When he did, his voice was rough… “I’m counting the hours already, little bird.” I rushed from the room, my legs still trembling as I scrambled down the hall and into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind me. I was five minutes behind, but after whatever that was…I needed a minute to recover. Or ten.

Ever since then, we have been in this apartment. In this shitty neighborhood. I walked faster, picking up my pace. I knew to keep my head down, keys threaded between my fingers, and my bag worn across my chest just in case. No one had messed with me for years, but people moved in and out all the time, and it was never quite safe enough for my liking.