Three
1326 Words
JULIET
I'm shaking.
No, I'm a trembling mess as I stagger backwards into the living room. My breaths come in short pants and I can't seem to force in enough air to fill my lungs.
Hands. Not just hands but freshly severe d hands still dripping with blood, alongside a human tongue. That's what is in the box.
Flashes of a past I tried so hard to forget come rushing back to me like a violent tornado, and I can't find it in me to hold in my sobs.
Warm arms wrap around me and a second later I'm being lifted from my position on the floor.
Rowan drops me carefully on the couch and offers me a glass of water. I'm still a trembling mess, so he holds the glass to my lips while I take a drink. My breath evens out slowly, and my heart stops racing. But I still can't get the image of the blood covered hands out of my head.
“Take a deep breath," Rowan says, voice soft and patient. The same one that always pulled me out of my panic attacks and nightmares. I do as he says, filling my lungs with as much air as I can. “Now breathe, slowly."
I do, my heart taking a steady rhythm.
Before he can speak further, Lara steps in through the open door and stops upon seeing the scene. Her face instantly becomes filled with concern as she drops her bag and rushes to me.
“Oh my god, Jules! What happened to you, and why is there a box containing severed hands at the doorway?"
“Someone dropped them there," Rowan said standing up. “Take care of her. I'll dispose of it."
With one last look in my direction, he steps out of the house, shutting the door behind him.
Lara rushes to my side and caresses my cheek. “Jules, what happened? Why are severed body parts on our doorstep?"
I sigh and reply, my voice shaking slightly. “Someone sent them. There was a knock, and by the time I opened it no one was there, just the box."
She looks horrified. “Any idea who might have sent them"
I shake my head.
I do know, mind you. I just don't want to talk about it with her. It's something only Rosa knows, and I'm not about to start sharing it with other people now.
They're not going to help the situation anyways. The only thing they'll do is to start the blame game. Dad will blame Mom for being careless and not paying attention to her motherly duties. Mom will tell Dad that if he hadn't left his family for another woman then he would have been there for me. Lara will just blame herself for failing as a big sister.
They're better off not knowing.
“Rowan will handle it," she says after a while. I have no doubt he will. “Anyways tell me, how are you doing? How's Florence treating you? You rarely talk to me or pick my calls."
I shrug. " I've been doing alright. It's my final year in college. In a few months I'll be graduating with my degree and free to start my own life.”
" Awww! I can't wait to see you take over the world.” She takes my hand in hers and squeezes. " I'm so proud of you, my baby girl. Always know that Rowan and I are always here to support you. You are our little sister."
Yh right!
Another reason why I should stop daydreaming about Rowan. He only sees me like a little sister, nothing more.
If only she knew the kind of thoughts I’ve had about her husband. Thoughts absolutely no “little sister” should ever entertain.
I let out a silent scoff. No wonder the universe keeps punishing me for wanting what I can’t have.
Lara keeps talking; about Mom, about the Christmas market they’re planning to visit when she comes over, about how the town has changed. But her voice sounds far away, muffled, like I’m underwater.
My mind finds its way back to the severed hands, the tongue, and the message they carried without words.
You can run, you can leave, but I will always find you.
My stomach twists.
I rub my palms into my knees, trying to ground myself, trying to stop that creeping sense of dread clawing its way up my spine.
“Jules…?” Lara nudges me gently. “You’re zoning out. Is there anything you want to talk about?”
No.
Because the truth would crack my life open in ways I’m not sure I can survive again. People say the truth will set you free, but not in my case.
In my case, the truth will tear to pieces the wall of lies and delusions I spent years building around my fractured existence.
Before I can force out a reply, the front door opens, and Rowan steps in.
He’s changed his shirt, but traces of tension cling to him; tight jaw, shoulders drawn back, fists flexing like he’s still ready for a fight. Snow dusts his hair and the faint scent of cold winter air follows him inside.
His eyes find mine instantly, and it’s like I'm being pinned in place.
“Everything’s taken care of.” His voice is low, steady… but there’s an edge underneath. Fury, barely contained. “Police will sweep the area tomorrow, and I’m putting a camera outside too.”
Lara stands and walks to him. “Thank you. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
His gaze flicks to her just long enough for a small reassuring smile. But then they return to me immediately afterward.
And they stay there.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod, but it’s a lie and we both know it.
He moves closer, steps slow, deliberate, like he’s approaching something fragile. Or dangerous, I can’t tell which.
Maybe I’m both.
His hand hovers near my shoulder, not quite touching. “You’re shaking again.”
“I’m fine.” The words come out very unconvincing.
He crouches in front of me, placing himself at eye level. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Mia Cara. You've never had to.”
Lara’s phone starts ringing. “Shoot, it’s Mom. I’ll take it real quick.”
She disappears down the hallway, and suddenly, it’s just us.
Me, him, and the heavy silence that’s always been dangerous.
Rowan studies me with a look I remember far too well. Concern wrapped in something deeper, something unspoken.
“You saw something no one should ever have to see,” he murmurs. “Your body is reacting. That’s normal.”
Normal. Right.
Nothing about my life has ever been normal. I swallow hard, trying to push down the tremble in my voice. “Thanks for handling it.”
His lips twitch like he wants to say something else. Like he wants to ask the question I fear most.
But he doesn’t, and I can't tell how thankful I am.
Instead, he says quietly, “You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
My chest tightens.
Dangerous words.
Words that make it way too easy to forget where his loyalty lies.
I force myself to look away, but he reaches out, just enough to brush his thumb lightly across my cheek, wiping a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.
My breath stutters.
His fingers linger for half a second too long, and it’s enough to burn.
He must realize it too, because he pulls back abruptly, jaw tightening as if he’s fighting himself.
“We’ll talk later,” he mutters, standing. “After you’ve rested.”
As he disappears up the stairs, I realize that these three months aren't just going to be dreadful, but a test to my sanity and my self control.
- Writer
