Glass: Chapter 19

I jerk awake in sudden, terrifying awareness.

I’ve overslept. Shit.

When I jolt upright, hands land on my shoulders and I jump a mile. “Stasi.”

My hands clench in the… the cotton?

What?

The sleep clears from my eyes as I look down, taking in the soft material beneath my fingers.

Oh, God. It finally happened.

I’ve been toying with the idea of climbing into someone’s bed for a nap for days, and I must have done it. And I’ve been caught.

My head turns slowly. Silas is sat in a chair next to me. He looks almost as tired as I feel.

“Sorry,” I blurt out, but my voice is barely a croak. Coughing, I say it again, and he groans, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Stop apologizing. Please.”

He leans forward, and I jerk as he presses a hand against my forehead. “What are you doing?”

“You had a fever.” Slowly, he pulls his hand back. “We put you to bed. You’ve slept for a while. It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

Blinking, it takes me a few seconds to understand his words. Vague memories of the dinner table start to filter through. Clara. Rafe.

My stomach twists. “You… put me to bed. Your bed?”

When he nods, I know I’m dreaming.

The laugh bursts out of my chest, and he frowns at me, one eyebrow lifting in question.

“This is a dream,” I mutter. “It’s a dream, right?”

The frown just keeps getting bigger. “Why would you think that?”

“Because—,”

Because there’s no way in hell Silas would ever put me to bed, even if I was ill. He’d probably just throw some cold water on me and tell me to get on with it.

I pull the covers off me with shaking fingers. “I’ll just… go.”

“Anastasia.” His hand covers mine, squeezing my fingers gently. “Stop. Please.”

His hand feels warm against my skin.

“And you said please,” I mutter in confusion. “Definitely a dream.”

He groans. “This is not a dream.”

Eyeing him in doubt, I reach for my wrist and pinch the skin.

Ow.

Slowly, I look up at Silas. “Not a dream.”

His lips press together in harsh lines. “No. That’s what I seem to keep repeating.”

The sarcastic words sound much more like the Silas I know, but I’m starting to feel as though I’m in some sort of alternate reality. I glance down, taking in the rumpled bedding.

“Well, I don’t seem to have a fever anymore. So I’m just going to go and… freshen up. And then I’ll get back to work. I’ll catch up on anything I’ve—,”

My eyes widen as his hand covers my mouth.

“Anastasia,” he snaps. “For the love of God. Stop talking. Stop moving. And listen to me. Do you understand?”

When he slowly pulls his hand away, I blink at him.

And then I nod.

He sighs. “I… I’m sorry.”

My eyes slide around the room, into the corners. There has to be a camera here. Some sort of set-up.

But Silas leans forward on his elbows, resting them on his knees. “The list I gave you. It wasn’t supposed to be…,”

He shakes his head as I stare at him. “It was a punishment,” he says hoarsely. “I wanted to – to hurt you. I was angry. But I never meant for it to go this far.”

I’m still fucking confused.

“Spit it out, Silas,” I whisper. “What are you talking about?”

“I made you ill.” His voice is low. “You’re not eating properly, not sleeping properly. Working your fingers to the fucking bone because of this list.”

He holds it up like evidence, and I glance at the spiky writing. My head begins to ache. “You’re giving me whiplash, Silas. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To work? To be punished? This is what you wanted.”

“Not like this,” he says quietly. “I don’t want… I don’t want anything to happen to you. Because of me. We can’t spend the next two decades like this, Stasi.”

We watch each other in silence. My heart thumps inside my chest.

“But you… you hate me.” My mutter drops into the space between us like a stone. “You’ve made that perfectly clear, Silas. Don’t try to tell me you don’t. I can see it in your face, even now.”

A myriad of emotions flash across his face. Yes, the anger is still there.

But there’s concern there, too. His hand shoots out as I struggle to prop myself up, sliding around my back, helping me keep my balance.

“Can you blame me for being angry?” His words are quiet, even as his fingers spread out, strong and sure across my back. “You don’t even know what your actions cost us that night, Anastasia.”

When I can focus, I turn to him.

“I was doing what I was told to do,” I say tiredly. “And in the end, I wasn’t going to do it, Silas. But when I asked you to help me, you threw me out like I was trash.”

He looks at me, grim and tired. “Maybe I was angry then, too.”

And look where it got us, in the end.

“Did you ever think that that night might have cost me something, too?” My small words send his eyes flying up to mine, even as they crease in confusion.

“What could it possibly have cost you?” His words are on the edge of disbelieving.

It’s on the tip of my tongue.

My family.

My future.

My freedom.

You.

But he doesn’t want to hear that. So I don’t say anything, and he sighs. “I’m… going to try to get past that night. But you still need to serve your sentence, Anastasia. This – right now – is about our own story. But it doesn’t change what’s happened with Ella.”

My eyes close. The hope I didn’t even realize I was holding onto shrivels inside my chest, curling up and blackening around the edges until it dissolves into ash.

How many more times before you learn, Stasi?

The words appear around the lump in my throat. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Our history is not the only issue between us. Not with the whole world pressing in around the edges. Everyone wants their pound of flesh from me, and Silas volunteered to deliver it.

And Silas Tate never fails at anything.

He still believes that I’m the person they say I am, whatever his guilty conscience says.

A piece of paper is pressed into my palm, and my eyes open. “What’s this?”

“A new list.” Blue eyes pierce mine. “Hopefully a fairer one, you’ll agree.”

The chair creaks as he stands.

“Take today to rest,” he says firmly. “Tomorrow, if you need it. Get well. And then… we’ll try things this way.”

Silas stops as he reaches the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “Can I… get you anything?”

He sounds awkward. Uncomfortable.

And as I stare down at my new list, I shake my head.

I can’t look at him. Because if I do, then I might end up begging.

See me. See who I am, Silas. Please.

He used to know me better than anyone else.

Silas, Rafe, Kit. They were my everything, until I lost them.

But now… now the whole damn world is in our way. And maybe it’s too late to find our way back to who we used to be.

The thought makes the ache in my chest deepen, so I focus on the list instead.

Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. All outlined, with painstaking detail.

A new start and finish time, later in the morning and earlier in the day.

And… a day off on Sundays.

I thought he was gone, but his voice makes me jump. “You can go outside during your free time, if you wish. I trust you won’t be running off anywhere. You know how isolated this estate is.”

Where would I go?

I open my mouth. Lift my head, not sure whether to thank him or berate him for the patronizing tone of his voice.

But the click of the door softly closing is all that’s left.