Isolation: Book 2 of The Quarantine Series Page 21

  “You didn’t.” He places small kisses all over my face. “I can’t lose you again,” he mutters so inaudibly that I almost miss it.

  Milo discards the knife in the trash as if it will come back to cut me open on it’s own. It seems a bit dramatic until I catch the look on his face.

  His usual blank expression falls for a fleeting moment, allowing me to see his real feelings. It’s the same emotion and truth that’s becoming abundantly clear as the days go by.

  I have seen that look before. I hate that look.

  He is looking at me like I am a glass doll that will break at any moment. As if I am some sort of traumatized victim that needs to be taken care of. As if I am fucking Tessa, a woman Milo resents. A woman that he all but legally emancipated himself from at the age of eight.

  A woman he does not respect!

  The sympathy I felt is quickly replaced by the anger that’s boiling my blood right now.

  That look on his face is worse than what I just did. He doesn’t get to admit that he is the root of my fears, then act like he is scared of me. As if I am acting like her.

  It inspires a feeling I haven’t felt towards him in weeks; anger and resentment.

  -----------

  Milo

  “Don’t you have work?” Raven asks. I detect a hint of irritation laced with her tone.

  After what just transpired with the knife, I am not leaving Raven alone for a single fucking second.

  I am scared shitless right now. Raven could have seriously hurt herself if I wasn’t quick to respond.

  Next time I might not be quick enough.

  Yes, Raven has the right to discuss and disclose her trauma at her own pace. However, she just tried to stab herself with a fucking knife.

  Safety concerns have to trump timing at this point. I am shaken to my core.

  I just got used to being surrounded by her presence. Raven with my family. Raven in this house. Raven in my office. Raven at every meal. Raven in my arms.

  Raven. Raven. Raven. It’s still not fucking enough. The smell of vanilla needs to be imprinted. More secure. More permanent. None of that will happen if she slips out of my fingers again.

  “I rather hang out with you,” I shrug because it’s the truth despite what just happened.

  “Aren’t we Prince Charming,” Raven says in a monotone voice.

  “Only for you.”

  “I should go back to my room,” she pushes off me. “I don’t want to distract you from work.”

  She is pissed.

  Really fucking pissed.

  I get it. She can’t help her adverse reactions. She is starting to feel frustrated over something that she has no control over. The emotion is understandable.

  “Baby,” I say patiently. “We have to talk about what just—”

  “I know,” Raven cuts me off.

  “You have every right to go at your own pace,” I follow up.

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.” Raven stands a few feet away from me as she fixes her clothes.

  I stand as well and grab a pair of sweatpants from the ground. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable about sharing?”

  Raven paces my room. Her eyes flicker to me every so often, as if sizing me up, trying to get a feel of me. She looks tense, irritated, and impatient, all mixed in one. I see her analytical brain moving at rapid speed, as if trying to draw a conclusion.

  “It would help if I could ask you more questions about your past,” she finally says.

  I don’t know why it helps for her to know about my past, but I am not in the position to deny her. I am eager to expedite this process before something worse happens.

  “Sure,” I sigh.

  “You said that you haven’t had sex in the last few years.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So, the last time you had sex—”

  I don’t let her finish that thought and blurt out, “The day before you left for Paris.”

  We both take an audible breath.

  There are two significant nights in our lives. Both of them are the two worst nights of our respective lives. The last time we had sex and the night before Raven left for Paris.

  The last time we had sex was the “incident.” It was the worst night of my life.

  The night before Raven left for Paris was the worst night of her life.

  I thought she was about to bring up the last time we had sex. In my haste to distract her from what I did, I brought up the worst night of her life, the root of her nightmares.

  I watch her quietly, not allowing my own panic to show on the surface.

  Raven stares at me and then shakes her head as if chasing that thought away.

  She ignores the awkwardness and asks another question. “During that time, did you try anything other than sex to climax? I know some people are into playing and bondage—”

  “No,” I answer without hesitation.

  “Nothing else that got you off?” her voice is devoid of all humor, unlike last time.

  “No,” I answer again, unable to leave out the irritation in my voice this time.

  “Have you ever tried BDSM?” Raven ignores my tone.

  “Yes,” I unsurely admit.

  “Are you into it?”

  “A few people I slept with were into it.”

  “What did they want you to do to them?” she presses.

  “Tying them up, handcuffs, spanking, choking—”

  “Choking?” Raven emphasizes the word. “Hurting them?”

  “If that’s what they wanted,” I try to say it as if it’s no big deal, hoping to move on.

  “Dominating them?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “How about role play? Have you done role play?” Raven determinedly peruses ahead.

  “Yes.”

  “Did it ever include forced sex fantasies?” Raven asks much too casually.

  I freeze.

  I finally understand why she has been so curious about my sexual history. It’s not because it was an off-limit topic.

  All of this time Raven has been trying to find out if my sexual history somehow shaped the outcome of what happened between us.

  She is trying to find a justification for my actions. If my actions are a result of past trauma or it shaped my behavior, then I don’t have to take responsibility for the things I have done. And she doesn’t have to hate herself for still wanting me, despite my past actions.

  Unlike what she believes, I don’t have a morbid past. Nor did I lose my shit because I had too many responsibilities.

  I lost my shit because she is a part of me, and being without her is the same as being without my limbs. You can’t live without the most vital organs and parts of your body. It’s the same concept. There are no reasons for my actions other than pure deprivation of her.

  However, you can’t exactly explain that to the victim of your actions.

  “No,” I give her my stoic answer.

  “Have you ever forced yourself on anyone else other than me?” Raven’s voice is eerily calm.

  She has every right to an answer, but that doesn’t help with the tightness in my chest.

  “No, Raven,” I say slowly. “I have never forced myself on anyone else.”

  Raven opens her mouth again, but I cut her off. “Before you ask, I’ll make this easy for you and give you the answers you are looking for. I don’t have any sexual trauma. No childhood abuse. No particular kinks. Nothing that interests me about forcing or dominating a woman. The only sexual preference I have is my unquenchable thirst for you.”

  “So, it is me.” Raven mutters.

  She starts to say more words under her breath. I don’t quite hear the other near inaudible words but I strain my ear.

  I think she is saying, “I started all of this. I am toxic. Why did it have to happen to us? Why did it have to be you who did that to me?” Her words are not laced with venom. They are laced with sadness about a realization that’s settling in.

  “Rave—” I start, my voice hardly above a whisper.

  Raven is looking down, and I feel as lost as she looks. I cup her face to turn her to me. She closes her eyes as if deflecting her reality, hoping that she is anywhere but here.

  “Baby,” I breathe. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

  Raven opens her eyes to give me an empty stare. She slowly removes my hand.

  She is freaking out.

  “Tell me what you need right now,” I say in the calmest tone I can manage.

  “I want to be alone,” she rasps out.

  I nod. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  “N-no,” she stammers. “Please don’t be near me.”

  I hesitate. This is killing me. And her. “Do you want me to send Mia?” I try again.

  She shakes her head, as if impatient for me to leave instead of asking more questions. I give her a final nod and walk out of the door.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Incident - Six Weeks Ago

  -----------

  Milo

  I try Tessa’s psychiatrist for the tenth time and slam the phone down when no one picks up. He gave us this number in case we need to get in touch with him, but he barely ever picks up.

  He is supposed to have someone on-call for emergencies, but the on-call person is useless too.

  She suggested that we take Tessa to the hospital, before taking down a message for the doctor. I already have the doctor’s number. She may as well be a voicemail service. And Tessa doesn’t need hospitalization. Her side effects are long gone. We just want to know what caused it.

  Everyone is so fucking useless.

  I am sitting at the desk in my parents’ bedroom, pouring over Tessa’s history and physical reports to figure out which ingredient in her drug caused an interaction.

  There are two doctors in the house. Dad is currently checked out, and Uncle Reese is unfamiliar with the drug Tessa is currently on since it's from a clinical trial. Until now, the medication has been working well.

  We have seen Tessa have side-effects from drugs before, but we have never such extreme side-effects.

  Tessa started having tremors at brunch earlier today and lost muscle control. In front of a roomful of people, she urinated on herself.

  It was a jarring sight, especially for Raven’s parents.

  Tessa has incredibly low self-esteem. She is easily swayed by other people’s opinions and often feels down about herself.

  Paranoid about what others might think of her, she used to refuse to leave her bedroom and interact with others.

  Knowing who Tessa is, this isn’t something she can easily recover from. She is horrified that it happened in front of Raven’s parents. Embarrassing this family is her biggest insecurity.

  Tessa doesn’t know how to recover from setbacks. This is a very well known fact in the Sinclair home, which is why everyone is so nervous right now.

  This is why we always put our shit aside whenever Tessa related shit spirals out of control. There is only one other time when things got this out of control.

  At that time, Dad was working in the Cayman Islands. Mia and Raven were worried about Tessa’s deteriorating depression and refused to leave her side.

  I saw the effect it was having on them. So, I decided to send Tessa to Grand Cayman and have Dad take care of her.

  It was the only time I have ever refused to take care of Tessa. Reid, Raven, and Mia were younger. I needed to prioritize their needs over Tessa’s.

  I couldn’t let them continue growing up in a toxic environment, just like I had to. I simply couldn’t afford the kind of drama that came with Tessa, while raising three teenagers.

  For a while, Tessa was doing better. I had hoped that she would turn things around for herself and this family. But then she simply fluctuated over the years.

  I try the doctor again and hang up the phone when he doesn’t pick up. I stare at the inanimate object.

  There is one more person I should call. I need to know that Reid is okay.

  Reid has a habit of going down a path of self-destruction whenever he is upset. He is still fucking pissed at me over the whole Raven situation. I have no fucking idea how to verify if he is alright.

  On top of the stress over Reid and Tessa, work has been insane. I am also now responsible for the living expenses of seven other people.

  Sure, I have money. But New York is expensive, and these are people who are used to a luxurious lifestyle.

  I look over to the bed and focus on the beautiful girl sitting there. At least I have that again. I let her face do its usual magic to alleviate all of the other shit and kill the items on my to-do list.

  Raven is leaning against the headboard. Her mass of dark hair is covering part of the dress she wore at brunch. She is still a damn paradox. Raven looks like the peace I need, surrounded by the mass of chaos I am trying to get away from.

  Tessa is lying on the pillow, as Raven strokes her hair. Dad is sitting in the armchair. Eyes closed. Head leaning backward. Defeated. Mia is huddled up, her head resting on Tessa’s pillow.

  I am usually able to function on autopilot but even I feel exhausted by this scene. The idea of calling more doctors or going through another report is daunting right now.

  A soft touch on my shoulders jolts me out of my own head. “Are you okay?”

  I look up to find Raven. I almost have to squint. The floor lamp is behind her, so the light looks like a halo around her head as if she is an angel. She looks like Kismet. I don't believe in God but she looks like a prayer answered.

  “Yeah,” I respond quietly. “Are you?”

  Raven nods. “Do you want me to help you look over the H&P reports?”

  I am sure my face gives away my shock. Everyone assumed that I would just take care of the next steps, but there is still only one person ready to lessen my burden.

  Raven doesn't wait for my confirmation. She pulls up a chair to sit down.

  “I don’t know if you recall, but I used to write down every time Tessa had a bad episode. They are documented by date and symptoms. I told Mia to keep up the same log. Here,” Raven digs out a thick notebook and hands it to me. “If I remember correctly, Tessa experienced tremors while she was on her old antidepressant drug. We can check for the active ingredient in that drug and cross-reference to see if the same ingredient is in this new drug.”

  Raven starts to sort through the paperwork to make an organized pile. She already has a highlighter out to mark all possible medication culprits.

  “Since this is a clinical trial, there is no way to know about all the side effects and possible interactions. But we can check out the online support group they created for everyone in the trial. We can ask if anyone else experienced similar symptoms.”

  Raven doesn’t wait for me to respond and cascades more ideas while organizing the table.

  Like the disarrayed pile in front of me, she is slowly cleaning up the disarray inside of me.

  As I watch her, she works at manic speed. I am transfixed by her hazel orbs, moving over the paperwork. She discusses different ideas for a plan of care without even taking a breath.

  “Milo,” Raven finally takes a breather. “You look exhausted. I don’t mind looking over this by myself if you want to take a break.”

  “No, I am fine.” And I really am.

  I am not thinking about all of the other shit that’s going on. Not my work. Not about my crazy family. Not about my finances. Not even about my emotionally devastated, missing brother.

  Once again, she is pulling me out of nothingness to let me breathe; and she doesn’t even notice. But I do.

  All I can see is her as my starved eyes take in the only person that matters.

  The only person who makes me feel alive, but can also sentence me to death.

  The only person who makes me sane again but is also the reason for my insanity.

  The only person who can take over my entire brain till I feel like I am asphyxiating and just at the drop of a hat, lets me breathe again.

  As she works, I sit there and stare like an idiot at the only person who owns all of me.

  -----------

  “Does that feel good, baby?”

  “Yeaa—” Raven moans again, her eyes droopy and words slurred.

  I hike her dress further up to the base of her neck, keeping my eyes focused on her, but also behind her.

  I see Dad and Mia’s silhouettes through the kitchen window. Raven is pinned against a tree in our backyard while I try to fuck her as quietly as possible.