Chapter 5: My Mistake

Knock, knock.

“Come in.” It was Mom. “Hey, baby.”

“Good morning, Mom.” She sat on my bed beside me. “Didn't see you for breakfast this morning.”

“I wasn't really hungry mom.”

“Baby, I'm sorry about what happened with Nathan. I shouldn't have forced you guys to get along. It was wrong of me too.” Mom held my hand. I bit my lip so hard because I didn't want to think about what had happened.

“Mom, it isn't your fault. You were just trying to help.”

She was quiet for a while, then hugged me while I lay on my bed. “Okay, but I'm here if you ever need anything.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Dom, Emily, Jake, and I are heading out for a fair. Wanna come with?”

That explained why she was dressed up on a Sunday.

“No thanks.”

“Okay, baby. See you later then. Bye.”

“Bye, baby.”

After they left, I forced myself to get up and clean. I went to the kitchen to make something to eat—toast and tea. I tried sipping the tea without considering that it would still be really hot. The heat made me spill tea on my left arm and on the counter.

“Ouch!” It hurt so much. My skin began to redden. I went to get paper to clean it.

“We're all out,” I muttered, and went to the storage room to find some. The door was slightly open, propped by a box. Maybe a maid had left it like that. I entered without paying attention.

“No!” I heard Nathan shout as the door was closing.

I had no idea he was home. I thought I was the only one in the house. The room was big, so I hadn't seen him. “Fuck!” he cursed as the door closed.

He pulled the handle, but it wouldn't open. “Fuck!” he shouted again.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“You fucking locked us in. Happy?” He looked at me bitterly.

“I didn't know; it isn't my fault.” I was clearly wrong. I was clearly at fault and I don't know why I said that. “You're never at fault, Jay” I rolled my eyes at his words and sat down; my arm still stung from the burn. I took some papers and wrapped them around my hand.

I wanted to help Nathan with the door, but I didn't want to piss him off more. So I sat, minding my own business, as he tried opening the door. Yelling was useless. All the servants were on the other side of the mansion. I left my phone on the counter; Nathan didn't have his with him either. The only option was to wait it out.

Nathan kept trying the door; I kept hoping someone would come. He stopped in frustration and looked back to find me watching him.

“What?” he shouted.

“I didn't say anything” I said

“Then stop looking if you aren't going to help,” he snapped, and left the spot for a while.

I tried the handle again, but who was I kidding? The door wouldn't open from our side; someone had to open it from the outside. We stayed at opposite ends of the room for hours, waiting.

Eventually Nathan stood and tried the door again. He'd probably had enough. I didn't blame him. If my guess was right, we'd been in there for approximately eight hours.

“It's useless trying. You're only going to hurt yourself if you aren't careful,” I said from where I was seated.

“Could you just shut it? At least I'm trying something, what are you doing?” he said. I sighed. “The door can only open from the outside. Do you hear me? You're just wasting your time.”

“Fuck you,” he yelled, then screamed.

At first I thought he was just being dramatic. When I didn't hear more sounds at the door, I looked toward him—and saw blood everywhere.

Shit. “Nathan, what have you done to yourself?”

He’d been trying to open the door with a plier, which had cut deeply into his left palm.

“Don’t fucking come near me,” he said as I moved near to help.

“Nathan, for your sake, let me help you. God knows when we’re going to get out of here. If you don’t clean that up, you’ll lose a lot of blood.”

“I don’t care. Just stay away from me. Stay where you are.”

I cared too much about him to stay back and actually listened to what he said.

“What do you want? You want me to apologize, huh?” I swallowed and tried to steady my voice. “Okay—I'm sorry, Nathan. Sorry for leaving like that without saying goodbye. Sorry for never calling or checking on you, or for not coming back earlier.” I paused, searching for the right words. “You and Jake were my best friends and you guys deserved so much better. You deserved more. Sorry about what I said yesterday. You had every right to be angry with me and to ice me out. But I’m here now, aren’t I? I came back and I promised not to leave the way I left before.”

I caught my breath. “I care about you too much to let you bleed. Let me help.”

Nathan looked at me. He wasn’t angry anymore — or maybe he was, but he wasn’t showing it. I guess my words got to him.

“I'm sorry, Nathan.”

He dragged a stool and came to sit where I’d been. “Be gentle,” he said.

I grabbed a first-aid kit that was nearby, soaked the wool, and began cleaning the wound. “Fuck,” he muttered in agony. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, focusing on stopping the bleeding. I applied antiseptic and wrapped the palm carefully.

When I glanced up, our eyes met — his beautiful blue eyes. Damn, he looked so… striking. I watched him lick his lips, and before I knew it I was looking at his mouth. I tried to resist, but I couldn’t. I leaned in a little and he leaned closer too. That showed me he wanted it as well. Our lips moved toward each other slowly.

As our lips almost touched, the door was forcefully opened. We instantly broke apart as someone entered. It was Agnes.

“Are you two okay?” she asked, spotting the blood.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Nathan said, looking at me and smiling slightly.

We went to the dining room to join everyone. They were sitting, having dinner.

“Where have you guys been?” Dom asked.

“We were locked in the storage room,” I replied.

“Oh, we have to get that fixed tomorrow,” he told one of the servants.

“Oh my God, what happened to you, Nathan?” Mom exclaimed, stopping her meal and coming over to check.

“It’s nothing, Sara.”

“You sure?” she pressed.

“Yeah.”

“You two should come and eat,” Dom said.

I spotted Jake. His mood had clearly changed as we walked in.

“Sorry, I can’t now,” I said, and left. Nathan joined the others for dinner.

I went up to my room to check my arm. The pain had subsided; it didn’t look serious anymore, and the redness had faded. I sat on my bed, replaying everything that had happened. I hated how good that moment had made me feel — that I had wanted it. It wasn’t fair to Luke. To even think those thoughts was bad enough. I truly loved what Luke and I had, and I wasn’t ready to lose it.

That’s why I must leave here tonight. I can’t risk staying and losing everything.