Isolation: Book 2 of The Quarantine Series Read online

  Milo looks at me for a long while. He finally responds. “No. I did not ask our parents to come to my room that day so we can be caught together. Nor did I ask Reid.”

  I don’t believe him.

  I don’t know why, but I don’t fucking believe him. Milo has always been honest with me, so why the fuck don’t I believe him?

  Some of the threats Milo has handed out, including wanting to murder Reid, had my stomach twisted up in knots.

  However, at the end of the day I always believed that Milo was speaking emotionally. Milo loves Reid almost as much as Reid respects Milo.

  Which is why it’s such a tough pill to swallow that no matter how hard I am trying right now, I don’t believe any of the words coming out of his mouth.

  All I want to do is fall on Milo's chest.

  I want my Milo to console me over losing my best friend. But despite our recent dynamic, I have been reminded of our truth.

  I don’t trust him and I probably never will. I don’t because I know that I will never have the Milo I want, without the threat of the other man who lurks behind his shadow.

  At least there is something else that will help me forget this truth of ours.

  Other than to mourn Reid, I came here to find Mia’s weed. Reid and I used to hide our weed under a floorboard in the living room. Mia does the same.

  I was going to search for her weed, but I had an urge to sit in the cold first. I stand up and move towards the sliding doors.

  “Rave, what are you doing?” Milo follows me.

  I jiggle the key into the lock, unlock the door, and slide it open.

  “Raven,” Milo grabs my arm. “You can’t go in there. Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  “Yes!” I turn around with so much fury that Milo tenses. “I’ve lost my fucking mind. You are not the only person who gets to lose their mind and use that excuse to justify your behavior.”

  Resentment. That’s the word, and that’s the feeling coursing through me.

  Resentment over losing Milo, who used to be my hero. Resentment over making me break my bond with Reid. Resentment over turning me into a fucking statistic. Resentment over not being able to trust Milo.

  Most of all, resentment over having to feel scared of Milo, instead of feeling safe. I can’t be with the man in front of me in the way I want without breaking myself.

  It all fills me to the brim with resentment.

  “Why?” I ask sharply. “Why did you do it? And why did you do it only to me?” I jab my index finger to my chest as years of resentment on hold comes pouring out.

  I have never forced anyone else.

  That’s what he told me. So, why did I get to be the lucky one? Milo quietly watches me. I lean in closer so he can see the fury in my eyes.

  “What did I ever do to you that was so horrible that you had to do that to me?” I say over my harsh breathing, which sounds loud in the quiet night.

  Milo is still silent.

  “Speak,” I howl. “Answer me.”

  Coward.

  When I don’t receive an answer, I turn away from him and slip inside the house.

  -----------

  Milo follows me inside the house, sliding the door shut behind him. I roam through my old house, scouring for the “special” floorboard.

  I stiffen when I hear Milo’s voice in the dark living room, barely lit by the moonlight streaming through the windows.

  “Do you remember the first time we met? We met in this room.”

  Milo waits for a response. When he doesn’t get one, he speaks in a hushed voice.

  “I was so relieved when Dad told me that you and Uncle John were moving to New York. Uncle John knew about my overwhelming home life so he always tried to give me a break.”

  I remember our move. I was so excited to live in New York, next to Reid and Mia.

  I was also excited to meet the Great Milo Sinclair, the golden boy who was a phantom to me.

  Milo was my hero before I even met him. I had hoped he would exceed my expectations. He did.

  “I hadn’t seen you in years. I didn’t know what to expect. When we met, all I saw was a mass of black hair. All I smelled was vanilla. Both imprinted on me that night. But when you addressed me in your eloquent way, that was when I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

  Milo’s voice is almost inaudible, so I stop shuffling and strain my ears.

  “You became a part of my family. You turned to me for everything; advice, friendship. We connected on a level I have never experienced. I don’t know when I fell in love with you. I just know that it’s been almost a decade, and I still can’t pull myself out of that vortex.”

  There is that word again. Love. It sounds foreign coming from his mouth.

  Milo has coupled that word with such atrocious actions that it feels like an antonym at this point.

  I don’t look at Milo, but I start moving again. I don’t care if my footsteps drown out his hushed voice. He doesn’t deserve to say that word to me.

  If that’s how he felt he should have waited for me. If he waited for me, I could have given my heart to the Milo I want, instead of constantly living in fear of when he will morphe into the other man.

  We could have been different if Milo waited instead of putting me in a powerless situation.

  “You’d smile at me like I was your whole world. Everyone joked about your crush on me. However, no one knew how I felt about you. I was older so I had to look the other way. And he acted like you were his.”

  Milo struts towards me, refusing to let me ignore his words or walk away from him.

  “So, when your dad asked me to take care of you, I agreed. I thought if those lines could never be crossed, we’d outgrow the feelings. I bottled up my emotions, hoping to get over it. I didn’t. Then one day, you told me that you loved me and everything changed. I gave in, thinking that we both put a lid on our feelings for far too long.”

  I inhale sharply and stop in my tracks in the darker part of the room.

  Milo pauses as well, maybe to gauge my reaction. He is standing only a few feet away from me now.

  “I saw you say no to plenty of men before me. So, if you didn’t want me then why didn’t you also say no to me from the start instead of leading me on? Why, Rave? Why did you do it? And why did you do it only to me?” Milo throws my words back in my face, his voice finally at an audible level. “What did I ever do to you that was so horrible that you had to do that to me? Do you think I wanted to feel this way? Do you think this is the person I aspired to be?”

  When I don’t respond, Milo steps out from the dark. I can see his face clearly. His face is resolute about the answers he wants.

  “Answer me,” he demands in a low voice. “Why go along with it for as long as you did and let me believe I finally get to be with you? Why give me that hope only to rip it all away?”

  Milo moves in, invading my space, demanding answers.

  I push right back against his chest on impulse to create distance between us. My anger is boiling.

  “How was I supposed to say no to you?” I hiss. “I was seventeen and under your care. You dictated my life. You made all of my decisions so how the hell was I supposed to choose differently when you chose for me.”

  “Are you serious?” Milo says incredulously. “I treated you like a grown-up, You had every chance to make up your own mind from the get-go. I had faith that you were mature enough to make your own decisions.”

  “God, just listen to yourself,” I bellow. “Why would you treat a high school kid like a grown-up? No one at that age is mature enough to understand adult relationships. If I bring you a seventeen-year-old, would you fuck her if she acts mature?”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Milo shouts.

  “No, answer me!” I demand more forcefully.

  “Of course not. What the fuck do you take me for?”

  “If it’s such an unthinkable act, then why did you do it to me? I am the same age now you were when we started. I recently hit my head, but I still wouldn’t have sex with someone living under my care. I’d have more sense than that.”

  Milo crowds me till I start to feel suffocated.

  “I didn’t have any sense left when it came to you. I didn’t see you as a high school kid. I saw you as my friend. My confidante. My everything. I can’t even say that I regret it. It’s better to have been with you than never knowing what it’s like. If you didn’t feel that way, all you had to do was tell me no from the start.”

  “And how would that have mattered?" I ask angrily. "Because when I did say no to stand up for myself, you still went through with it.”

  I spin around to walk away in the opposite direction, but Milo grabs my elbow to turn me around.

  “Have you considered that by the time you said no, I was already in too deep?” he hoarsely whispers. “You broke my heart. I didn’t know how to deal with it; I fucking lost it.”

  I hold up a hand. “Don’t, Milo. Don’t tell me how I broke your heart when you used to treat me like your hooker. All we did was fuck. And all you ever said was, come to my room.”

  The room becomes deafeningly quiet as he processes my words. We stare at each other in the dark, our chests rising and falling.

  He knows that I am right. Milo never showed me the positive attributes of a relationship that he has so easily shown me in the last few weeks.

  Minutes go by before he finally addresses my remarks.

  “I was inexperienced with relationships,” he quietly admits. “And you were so non-confrontational that you ran away from all heavy conversations. Our physical connection was a reflection of our undeniable feelings so I let it be. But I should have tried harder.”

  “I should have tried harder?” I seethe. “That’s all you have to say? Give me your honest opinion, Milo. Do you believe I deserved what you did to me because I made a poor decision in high school by not saying no strongly enough?”

  “Deserve it?” Milo flinches. “Raven, no. I don’t think that. It’s… it’s not like that. There is just…” Milo looks around as if searching for an answer, “there is nothing worse in life than being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back. It’s torture. It makes you do awful things. I was looking for a way to connect with you. And you always physically responded…” his voice trails off with a glazed look.

  We both stare at each other with a sadness that neither of us can decipher.

  This is too hard. I can’t do this with a sober mind. I turn around wordlessly and go back to my original search.

  Milo follows me, confused by my movement during such a heavy talk.

  I see a familiar spot and do a silent prayer. Kneeling on the hardwood, I use my knuckles to tap on the floorboard.

  Milo bends down and gently grabs my arm to pull me up to standing.

  “It’s not here,” he announces.

  I openly gape at him.

  “Raven, I raised three teenagers next to a near-abandoned house. It’s not rocket science. I know the owners. I have a spare key in case of emergencies. I inspect the place regularly.”

  I still stare at him, feeling dumbfounded.

  Of all the things he has ever done. Of all the shit he has pulled. The manipulation. The assaults. The bullshit excuses he keeps piling on top.

  I have no idea why but, of all those things, this is the worst thing he has ever done to me.

  It shouldn’t be; far from it.

  Maybe I feel this way because Reid is gone. Maybe it’s because Mia knows more than I ever wanted her to. Maybe watching Tessa reminds me how none of us ever change. Maybe it’s because I miss the old Milo.

  Or it might merely be the fact that I needed to numb myself, and Milo robbed me of that.

  Maybe it’s a combination of it all.

  But something in me snaps.

  As I glare down at Milo, my pupils dilate. My breathing becomes ragged—my adrenaline spikes. My heartbeat picks up at an alarming rate.

  Before Milo can react, I make a fist with my right hand, draw it back, and punch him right in his fucking poker face as hard as I can.

  Holy shit!

  “Ow. Fuck. Fuck,” I cry out. I cover my fist with my other hand, hunching over in pain.

  I punched Milo square on the jaw, but Milo, the fucking hulk, has an iron jaw. I am pretty sure I broke my fist while his jaw remains impeccable.

  “Damnit, Rave,” Milo puts his hands around my shoulders as I hold my fist to my chest. “Let me see. You probably broke a finger.”

  “Get off me!” I shake him off, still holding my right hand tightly to my chest.

  “Baby,” he says more gently as if trying to alleviate my descent into madness. “Just let me take a look at it. We might have to ice it.”

  This is when the caring guardian I needed finally shows up? Not while he was fucking me as a teenager and didn’t have the decency to stop after I asked him to?

  He cost us our chance. He lost himself. He cost me my innocent upbringing, and I will never get to have that back.

  And this is the moment he chooses to care? He has even cost me my fucking sanity, and he doesn’t even know it.

  So, insanity it is.

  And insanity takes over.

  Milo told me he loses all control with me. He fucked up our lives because “he lost it.”

  Well!

  I. Have. Lost. It.

  I fling myself at Milo. I use the same right hand to land another punch.

  “Raven, stop,” Milo moves to avoid my assaults. “You are going to hurt yourself.”

  I don’t even notice the pain on my fist as pure adrenaline takes over. Milo closes his eyes as if resisting his urge to roll them.

  “Baby, you have barely recovered as it is,” he tries again to make me see reason.

  I pretend not to hear him and land punch after punch on his face, neck, and shoulders.

  “Shhhh,” Milo soothes and grabs both of my arms with ease, trying to calm down my hysteria. “Stop, baby. You’re going to fracture all of your fingers if you don’t.”

  I use my left foot to stomp on his right foot with all my might.

  Milo is so shocked by my insane array of attacks that he lets go of my arms.

  I stumble forward, then I turn to face him.

  “It sucks, doesn’t it, Milo?” I yell. “When you ask someone to stop, and they don’t stop.”

  Milo is standing a safe distance away, but I can see his stunned expression.

  “Is that what this is about? Do you want to hurt me? Is that what will make you feel better right now?”

  No. I don’t want him to agree to this. I want him to suffer the way I did, against his will.

  I want him to hate this, then I want to force it on him. I want to make him bleed the way my insides are bleeding right now.

  However, having tired myself out from my own attacks, I momentarily stop flailing.

  I am not satisfied with the results, but my arms are exhausted from throwing punches.

  My hands feel like they are about to fall off. There is blood on my knuckles, while Milo remains unscathed.

  Milo is watching me closely. His body language is clear. He is thinking of at least five different ways to fix me. All of his protective instincts are out.

  Milo, the caretaker, is in full-blown concern mode. But I don’t want this guy right now.

  I want Milo, the lust-crazed sociopath. That’s the only person I want to hurt at this very moment.

  That’s the guy who robbed us of what could have been.

  “You can’t fix me,” I answer the question that his body is resonating with.

  “No, I can’t,” Milo admits in a shockingly calm voice. “Raven, if it’s going to make you feel better to hit me, then fine. But can we do this safely? It’s clear that the punches are hurting you. Why don’t you try using your nails? Or biting is equally effective.”

  That condescending piece of shit.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you seriously telling me the best strategies to inflict physical pain while reserving my own bodily harm? Where the fuck was this concern while you were having your way with me and ruining my life?”

  “I wasn’t trying to ruin your life,” Milo whispers. “Raven, I love you. I want to fix—”

  My hands move on their own accord at his empty declarations of love.

  Milo suggested using my nails. I am taking him up on it. I scratch his cheek and his neck till I draw blood.

  Milo doesn’t budge this time. He doesn’t try to stop me either, which takes away any satisfaction this situation could have provided.

  Frustrated with his lack of response, I take a break to plot my next attack. I bend over to gasp for air, with my hands on my knees.