Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

I wanted to die.

I could hardly breathe.

Everything hurt, hurt, hurt.

“I’m sorry.” My eyes burned. I’d tried to make my hands stop shaking but they wouldn’t listen. Especially as I reached out with my free hand and squeezed Blair’s knee tight. It was bony—like mine were. His lips were chapped. Dry.

I should’ve brought him water.

But who knew how long it would be till she’d let him out to pee. Maybe it was better I hadn’t.

“I brought you food.” It was hard to get the words out when my throat felt like it was going to close up entirely. “You have to be quiet though.” He didn’t need the reminder, not really. We both knew about Lydia and her games. But still, I felt better getting the words out. “And you can’t make a mess.”

Blair nodded and my heart had lurched as I offered him the plate I’d brought. He eyed it like I’d gathered up a gourmet feast, and not a shitty pile of carrots and rolls. He licked his lips. I nearly threw up.

Don’t.

Don’t, Markus?—

Jeffrey, Jeffrey, Jeffrey—I corrected myself. My new name is Jeffrey.

Blair’s hair looked indigo in the moonlight as he latched onto one of the rolls with vigor. He tore through it, careful of crumbs just like I’d begged. There was something wild and ravenous about him. Like he wasn’t human at all.

Something had settled inside me as I watched Blair eat. Sure, he was miserable. Heck, so was I. But at least I’d been able to do something about it. However small it was. Three rolls and carrot sticks. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

He clearly thought so too, because the way he was staring at me made me feel like I’d done far more than feed him table scraps.

Blair may not have been my blood brother, but after spending the previous year in hell with him, I felt closer to him than I had with my real brothers. I tried not to think about them often. It just made me feel guilty—a sense of loss so all-encompassing it threatened to choke me.

I tried not to think about the past at all.

I’d learned all it did was make me want to die.

Because we were in this mess because of me.

And while I was getting laptops, an Xbox, and guitars—Blair was getting locked up in closets, beaten with belts, and called enough names I worried he’d start to believe the words were true.

Blair’s hands were trembling—almost as much as mine. He didn’t try to hide them. Because of course he didn’t. As fucked up as we both were, Blair was the braver of the two of us. I’d always envied him for that. He hadn’t let Lydia defeat him. Maybe that’s why she was so determined to flay him every opportunity she got.

She could see the spark in his eyes.

Blair had been almost through the plate when I spoke again. “I’m sorry,” I bit my lip, a raw feeling of inadequacy sitting like a pit in my stomach. “I would’ve brought more but I had to sneak it into my pockets from my plate.” Maybe TMI. Probably shouldn’t have told him how exactly I’d managed this.

At least I hadn’t told him that I’d stolen the plate we were using a couple weeks ago in fear that this would happen again. Because I was less scared of getting caught with a stolen plate than I was of Lydia finding crumbs on the closet floor.

If she found them, I didn’t know what would happen to Blair.

Stop thinking about it.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Blair nodded, though he’d looked about as depressed as I felt. Guilt ate at me, acidic and heavy. Because it wasn’t fair. Here I was—outside—and he was locked up. I knew I wasn’t the one that had put him here, but I might as well have.

It’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault.

I reached for him, needing his touch probably more than he needed mine. My hand found the back of his neck—the same way Richard used to do to me—and I pulled him tightly into a hug. He was warm, at least. Though he felt so fucking small. His bony shoulder jabbed into my chest but I didn’t let him go.