Let Her Go

by Briana Pacheco

  “Owen,” I call out meekly. Don’t sound shy, that’s not sexy. I clear my throat and call out his name again.

  He turns and looks up, ready to ask what I need when his mouth closes and his eyes scale down my body. He wipes a hand over his jaw, his eyes connecting to mine before they fall down my body again.

  I smile coyly. This was a success then.

  “Do you want to…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence. Should I say, head back into your room to see if you can touch me, eat me out, or get me off?

  I nibble on my bottom lip and play with the bottom of the mesh skirt flowing around my hips.

  We’re always dry humping each other and I feel like I’m ready for more. I admit I wasn’t ready the first time I told Owen to touch me. I thought I was but I needed to build myself up to it.

  Today…today he’s going to touch me and I’m going to like it.

  “I can’t stop thinking about how your lips would feel eating me out,” I confess, and holy shit it works. He’s stalking toward me, his eyes full of want and need.

  His mouth crashes against mine and I’m swept off my feet when he lifts me up and backs us up against a wall.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and tap his shoulder.

  Growling softly, he tears his mouth off mine and fixes me with a hard look that does delicious things to my body. “Your room. In case Freddie comes back.”

  “You look fucking edible right now, Zo. Fuck.” He kisses me harder than before, tightening his grip around my legs as he starts to walk into his room. He looks back once and then kicks the door closed.

  He sets me down on the bed gently, holding my legs against his waist.

  I prop myself up on my elbows so I can watch him. “Owen.” His eyes lock on mine. “I don’t know if I’m ready to have sex yet.”

  His breathing slows, and his hands loosen their strong grip on my thighs. He looks at me like he’s at my mercy. “Should we stop?”

  “No!” He smiles when I shake my head at how desperate I sound. “Let’s do this. I just don’t think I can go all the way tonight.”

  He leans forward, planting a soft kiss on my lips. “It’s okay. Let me take care of you tonight.”

  His mouth moves down, kissing the tops of my breasts. His hands run up and down my legs soothingly before they ghost over my hips, pushing the nightie up my stomach. I arch my back when his mouth travels between my breasts, licking a path down to my navel.

  When his fingers hook around my thong I lift my hips and unlock the death grip I have around him with my legs so he can slide it off.

  Owen brings his mouth back to my stomach, working his way lower and lower until he’s on his knees with my legs draped over his shoulders.

  I lay before him completely bare and exposed, and I wait for something to cause me to shut my legs and run.

  Nothing does.

  Thank God.

  And then his mouth is on me, licking and sucking and flicking, doing things I never felt before. “Yes,” I pant, withering beneath him. “Owen.” His thumb works fast and slow circles around my clit and I feel him slip a finger inside me, and then one more and he curls them and ohmygod I never want it to stop.

  He does incredible things to my body before my hands lazily grab at the sheets, fisting them when I feel the pressure between my legs become too much. I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes shut when a deep moan rips out of me.

  I fall back against the bed deflated, my legs going slack. Owen’s cool breath hits my inner thighs making me quiver.

  “That felt amazing,” I murmur, lifting my upper body up onto my elbows.

  Our eyes connect and then it fucking happens.

  No…

  We were doing so good.

  I wonder if he hears it, the sound of my heart breaking in this particular moment.

  I don’t know what I expected to find when I looked down at Owen between my thighs. Eyes full of lust, asking me to take care of him next? A wicked smile on his lips telling me he enjoyed that as much I did and he wants to try having sex now? I would have taken anything because the second I looked down and I stared into his eyes, I saw someone else.

  I saw evil.

  Please just go away and leave me alone.

  The high I was just on slowly fades.

  Was it the lights? Should they be turned off?

  It’s Owen’s eyes.

  I’ll never be able to look at him when I’m having an orgasm. Jesus, why does this keep fucking happening?!

  Owen stands up, pushing my legs together so I’m not spread eagle in his face.

  I shimmy up the bed and he grabs the comforter, covering me up. I want to say that I’m sorry I can’t push his jeans down and return the favor. I want to apologize for being so royally fucked up.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says a little painfully, looking at me over his shoulder as he leaves his room. He’s in the bathroom for a few minutes before he comes back in and turns off the light. He slides into the bed, wrapping his arms around me. His heart beats rapidly against my chest, his breathing a little erratic.

  He took care of himself in the bathroom.

  I close my eyes and lay my head against his chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “For what?”

  “For getting stuck in my head.” I reach for his hand and pull it closer to me, hugging it against my chest.

  “Zo…” I feel his body stiffen as he finishes what he wants to say. “Is it me? Is it something I do?”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not you. I just need more time. I’m not used to this. Okay?”

  I shut my eyes and even out my breathing so it seems like I’m falling asleep.

  And at some point, I eventually do.

  I wake up gasping for air after reliving the car accident for the millionth time in my dreams. Owen stirs in his sleep, his hands blindly reaching for me, pulling me back into his arms. The tears run down my cheeks as I lay my head against his chest. “Wen?” I whisper, using the only nickname I gave him growing up. He was the one to name us Zowen so it stuck.

  He doesn’t make a sound other than his light snoring. A part of me is relieved he can’t hear me confess my sins. The other part, the one drowning in sorrow and suffocating with guilt wants him to wake up. She wants him to know that he loves a monster. She’s just as evil and dark as his father.

  “I have to tell you something,” I continue to whisper. “I killed him.” I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to believe the words as they’re being said. “It wasn’t an accident.”

  In my dreams Owen stares at me with such hatred in his eyes when I tell him this. He shoves me back and yells that he wishes it were me that died instead of his father. He rips his own heart out of his chest and throws it at my feet, saying, “Loving you is equivalent to death.”

  In reality, Owen squeezes me a little harder and buries his nose into my neck. All is right in the world.

  He doesn’t hate me.

  And yet, it doesn’t ease my suffering.

  I slip out of his arms and head out into the tiny hallway, walking toward the bathroom. It’s right across from the guys’ rooms but Freddie can see me if his door is open. Thankfully, it’s closed.

  I stop at the sink and splash some water on my face. I pat my skin dry with a hand towel and then I stare into the dark soulless eyes reflecting back at me and I want to scream. I want to break things and enjoy the sound it’ll make; the sound of something never being whole again. I want to see what happens to me, pieces of myself slowly breaking away every time I open my eyes knowing I’m still here with my demons.

  Is it even therapeutic watching something break?

  Because it sounds distressing.

  I lean forward and let my eyes wonder over my body in the mirror. My not-so-tanned skin sticks out to me even more with the black nightie and underwear set I have on.

  I grip the sides of the sink and squeeze hard, my knuckles turning white. I feel him -the devil- touching me as I tr
y to think of something else. Nothing works. You can’t wash away evil so easily. It wraps around you, seeping into your veins until all you see and feel is darkness.

  Think of Owen and Echo. Think of Mom and Dad. They’re your happy.

  The darkness wins and I think about Owen having his father’s voice, saying and doing the things he did to me.

  It’s a nightmare that I can’t escape.

  This is why I never want Owen to learn the truth. Why I can’t be whom he wants. I knew my mind would merge the two; my Heaven and Hell.

  Both my downfall.

  My eyes water as memories of Michael flood my mind. Memories of his sweet words and his gentle caresses. His love for me. He was always gentle because he didn’t want to leave any marks. He left me with so many invisible ones until the car accident happened, leaving me with physical reminders.

  “Do you love me, baby girl? Are you mine?”

  A sob escapes my lips as I sink to the floor. I can’t handle what that monster does to me. He’s not physically here, but it feels like it most days.

  His fingers are around my neck, squeezing the life out of me. His eyes as green as the forest sear my soul as he calls me “baby girl” over and over again.

  I just want him out of my head!

  “Hey,” Owen’s deep voice penetrates my wondering mind and the darkness starts to recede like the ocean’s tide. I feel his warmth wrap around me a second later, my body lifting and dropping onto his legs.

  I curl up on his lap with his arms wrapped around me tightly. I can’t breathe, but it feels so good. Being squeezed to death by Owen is heartwarming. His hugs are my absolute favorite thing from him. They remind me that I can be loved and not hurt.

  “Zo, what’s wrong? Talk to me. Please.” He starts to beg, rocking me back and forth, almost like he’s trying to shake the information out of me.

  I think about what he’d say if he knew everything, all the horrid details of my life.

  I dig my nails into his biceps to prevent myself from speaking, but it’s useless. My heart can’t handle this pain. “Your eyes.” Shut up, Zoë! Shut. Up. “They kill me. They remind me of him.”

  He stops rocking me, and I open my eyes, watching his brows furrow. He’s so confused. He’s going to ask what I mean by that. He’s going to learn the truth…

  No, he will not!

  Owen looks up at me from beneath his dark lashes. “Your nightmares…it’s because of him?” His eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “My eyes trigger them?”

  I keep my mouth closed and nod. It’s better than slaying this man with the truth.

  He mumbles things about the car accident; about how I clearly witnessed Michael die so of course his eyes trigger the nightmares.

  “Zo, I wish I knew I did this to you.” He wraps me up in his arms again, his mouth finding my ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  I sink into his arms when his familiar voice consumes me, telling me that everything will be okay. We stay on the floor for a few more minutes and then he’s lifting me up, walking me back his room.

  Freddie stands by his bedroom door, less than six inches away. His eyes find mine and even in the dark I can read, “Are you okay?” in his expression.

  I nod swiftly.

  I’m not okay but there’s no point in dragging other people into the black hole I have created.

  Crawling into Owen’s bed, I cocoon myself in his blankets and shut my eyes, not uttering a word. I’ve already said too much. I’m terrified I’ll say more.

  I don’t get any sleep. I don’t dream. And it’s so goddamn peaceful.

  By morning, Owen wakes me up to breakfast in bed. I must have fallen asleep for less than an hour because he was just here.

  He averts my eyes until I stuff my mouth with bacon.

  When he looks up and our gazes lock, gray colored eyes stare back at me.

  My hand flies to my chest, feeling my heart race. “Wen…” I say shakily.

  I push away the tray of food on my lap and get up onto my knees. I stretch out my arms and cradle his face in my hands, my eyes not believing what they are seeing.

  He changed the color of his eyes for me.

  He changed the one thing he loved the most about himself. When he looked in the mirror, he was proud to see the spitting image of his father. Now, when he looks in the mirror with these in, he’ll be reminded of how much I take from him.

  “You didn’t have to do this for me,” I say barely above a whisper. But I am so glad you did.

  “Yes, I did.” He places his hands over mine. “I never want to see you in pain, Zoë. I never want to be the one causing it. Happy belated birthday. You get a new boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?” I muse. “When did this happen?”

  Owen’s eyes crinkle, his lips curl up, and he tries to hide his beautiful smile underneath my hands. I’m not having any of it so I force him to look at me. I want to see his new eyes show me what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling.

  “I mean…yeah, why not?” He looks at me like he did when he was younger and he was shy to admit that he liked me.

  It’s the cutest fucking thing ever.

  I can’t hold back my smile as I crash my lips against his. “Take me on a proper date first then we can start labeling this.”

  Owen…my boyfriend. It has a nice ring to it.

  It’s amazing how one simple change can brighten up someone’s life. Looking at Owen, at his different colored eyes, I see him. And only him.

  I feel like my heart is smiling.

  For him. For me.

  For us.

  This peaceful moment where I’m finally not drowning, instead I’m taking my first full breath of life, I know it won’t last. That’s what my therapist and any sane person would tell me. Owen changing his eye color won’t fix me. But I’m taking it and never letting go. Until the feeling is slowly replaced with the poison in my veins then I will have to do something about it.

  I’m not normal.

  Who could be keeping all the secrets I do?

  For now, I’m happy and nothing plagues me.

  “I’ve waited my entire fucking life to hear those words leave your mouth,” he comments. “So the gray colored contacts was all I needed. Fuck, imagine what the other colors would do.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and smile. If I only knew this would help me in a major way, I would have said something earlier. Even if it only lasts for a day, an hour, or a mere second, it’s one of the best moments of my life.

  “Where did you get them? And how did you get them so fast?”

  Owen chuckles, looking down briefly. “These are a non-prescription kind. The pharmacist called them plano contacts when he directed me to the aisle they were in. They’re harmless for a few times use. I called my doctor when I was out and I’m heading over there tomorrow so I can get prescription contact lenses sent in so I don’t end up fucking up my eyes.”

  I’m still in shock over this new Owen. I’m in shock with everything he does for me.

  I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve him.

  “T-thank you,” I whisper, staring at his new eyes.

  Mowgli takes this time to come into Owen’s room and jump on the bed to paw at my breakfast. My phone dings on the table beside us so I reluctantly let Owen go and see who is texting me.

  Echo: Sweets, I miss your face. Come home. Watch a movie with me. *pouts*

  I shake my head at my clingy friend. We literally spent Thanksgiving together with her mother and younger sister. She should be bored of me by now.

  I type out a text to Echo telling her I’ll be home in an hour or two.

  I go back to eating my breakfast and kissing my best friend until it’s time for me to leave. Mowgli lies in his little carrier, watching both Owen and me once I settle him into my car.

  “Drive safe,” Owen urges, resting his forearms on my door after I open the window. “Love you.” He kisses my forehead and winks at me before standing back so I ca
n pull out onto the street.

  He watches me drive off until I turn a corner.

  I’m smiling the whole drive home.

  Staring at myself in the mirror after putting on my second prescription color contacts is something I need to get used to. No one ever mentions how fucking irritating they can be at first.

  The first time I put them in and stood in front of the mirror, I felt like I was staring at a stranger, but when Zoë looked at me, something changed in her eyes. There was a spark that wasn’t there or it was but it was simmering, waiting for that particular moment. She hasn’t stopped smiling, and I’ve noticed that she’s constantly looking at me. Before it was hard to capture her gaze for longer than three seconds.

  A week later, and I’m starting to get used to all of it. The blue contacts were ready for pickup last night so I’m surprising Zoë with them today. She’s used to the gray.

  I felt like the world’s biggest fuckface for never putting two and two together. Of course looking at me would remind her of my father and the accident. I wasn’t even involved and I get the occasional nightmare. I just never thought it was that crippling for her. She never talks about it. Not when the police questioned her after she woke up in the hospital, and not when our families would ask how the accident happened. Dad loved speeding. I just never thought he’d risk the life of my soulmate. He knew what Zoë meant to me. I would never shut up about her. You’d think he would stick to the speed limits when someone so precious was in the car with him.

  I once asked Zoë how she felt about driving when she got her car. She stared at the steering wheel for ten seconds before answering with, “I’m in control.” She got her license when she was seventeen but never drove a car after taking her road test. Her parents would beg her not to drive, to walk instead. They were terrified of her getting into another car accident. Everything was relatively close to our neighborhood so she didn’t mind. It’s how she started running.

  I got my license when I was nineteen. I failed my road test twice; once for driving so slow I backed up traffic and caused an accident, the other for almost hitting a pedestrian when she had to run after her child whom I didn’t see because he was so small. She should have gotten off the phone and held her son’s hand, but I was blamed for her mistake. I was nervous. I thought of Zoë in the car with my father and I couldn’t focus.