Chloe (Made Men Book 3)(9)

By: Sarah Brianne



I wish.

“I-it did happen.”

Giving her another long stare, Elle decided to say something this time. “What happened? Tell me what happened that night.”

Looking down at her lap, Chloe started to wring her hands. A flash appeared in front of her as a blade started to inch closer and closer to her face. She quickly slammed her eyes shut.

“I-I don’t remember.”

“Okay. Then tell me to my face you don’t remember.”

Lifting her head up, she could feel her teary eyes betray her as lone tear slid down her cheek. Looking at Elle, she pictured her helpless, on the ground, bloody again.

I can’t do it. She couldn’t move her lips to lie to that girl again.

Understanding Chloe couldn’t speak the words, Elle said, “I won’t tell anyone, and when you’re ready to tell me what happened, I’m here.”

Minutes passed as Chloe continued to pick at her food before she began to wonder what had given her away when no one else in the world seemed to question what had happened that horrific night.

“How did you know?”

Elle stared into Chloe’s now hollow gray depths. “Your eyes. I can tell someone not only marked you”—she pointed to her own face with a slicing motion—“but your soul.”

Chloe closed her eyes as she tried desperately not to cry, picturing the demon who haunted her dreams.

Glancing at the table that held Sebastian and Cassandra, Elle continued, “I know that because I’ve been marked, too.”





Eight





Burned by The Hand of Her Demon





Elle needed a book out of her locker, so Chloe went with her during break to retrieve it. The last class of the day seemed to come quickly after lunch. Surprisingly, they shared every class except the second one of the day. While she had art, Elle had health class. It sucked to not have the exact same schedule, but thankfully, it was only one class.

Watching Elle open the locker, she saw a rectangular piece of paper flutter to the ground.

“What the …?” Elle bent over to pick it up. Turning it over to the other side, her expression changed.

Chloe stared at what she thought was a piece of paper, but what was actually a photograph. The photo was of Elle lying on the pavement, bloody and broken, the exact image Chloe had thought of earlier. One of them must have snapped a photo of her when Chloe had been heading back into the school.

“W-who did this?”

They both looked around to see who had placed the photo, and they saw Sebastian standing against his locker, smiling evilly.

Elle quickly turned around, shoving the photo in her bag along with all her books. “Go get everything out of your locker.”

“I h-had no idea he took t-that—”

“Go get your stuff,” Elle ordered, continuing to clean out her locker.

“I d-didn’t kno—”

The slamming of Elle’s locker made her jump.

Taking a deep breath, Elle tried again, “I know you didn’t. We need to get to class. He’s not happy with me bashing him this morning about the whole car wreck thing, so he’s letting me know he can beat the crap out of me again if he wanted.”

Agreeing, Chloe quickly went to her locker, putting all the contents shakily into her bag.

“I’m sorry, E-Elle,” she whispered.

“It’s okay.” Trying to make her feel better, she went to pat her shoulder.

A small gasp escaped Chloe’s throat before she quickly moved out of the way.

Stepping back a bit, Elle held her hands up. “Sorry.”

It took Chloe a moment before she went to put the last book from her locker into her bag and closed it.

“We need to get to class … fast.”

Watching Elle swiftly leave with a sad look on her face, Chloe rubbed her shoulder where Elle’s hand had almost touched her. It was like her skin burned. Burned by the hand of her demon.



* * *

Elle sat on her bed, staring down at the picture she had found in her locker today. It was strange to see herself that damaged on the pavement. She had looked at herself in the mirror after it had happened, but it was still strange to see it in person, as if she were looking down at herself in that moment when she had thought death was going to greet her.

A droplet of water fell from her cheek onto the photo. Don’t let them make you cry anymore.

Getting up, she went to her bookshelf and grabbed a photo album off the shelf. Sitting back on her bed, she flipped through the pages, glancing at the photos of herself throughout the years.

She looked happy in every picture, and her long, strawberry-blonde hair used to frame her face perfectly.

Reaching up, she touched the strands she had left now that fell to the base of her neck.

Nope, don’t you cry.

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