Nate's grip tightened around my hand, and my heart raced with a mix of fear and anger. Each step we took felt like a struggle against his strong pull, the stairs becoming a path of resistance and tension. The weight of his anger bore down on me, and I fought to hold back my tears, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing my vulnerability. With each step, my body felt like a puppet, reluctantly moving to his will, and the ache in my hand matched the ache in my chest.

We passed by a gaping Emma, standing in her pyjamas at the landing. She looked confused at what was happening, with a small toilet bag in her hand that was close to falling out her grip. She just about caught it but we had passed her then, and my name died out on her lips.

I let Nate drag us back in the room. He pulled me in and slammed the door. The sound vibrates off the thin walls, and the walls almost bent in the abuse it just suffered.

"You think I want to be violated like that again?" I asked Nate, my voice quivering as tears spilled down my cheeks. The weight of vulnerability hung heavy in the air.

"You sure seem like it," he spat, his anger palpable in every word.

"Do you really think I'm that twisted? That I would want to go through that all over again?" My voice trembled with a mix of hurt and frustration.

"Then explain to me why you think it's a good idea to go back there?" His words were laced with disbelief and resentment.

"I don't think I want to do that. But the one person I expected to support me just stomped all over me," I retorted, my anger slowly starting to replace my initial upset.

Nate's response was a humorless scoff. "Stop acting like some heroic person. You go there, and you might as well dig your own grave. They will kill you."

"I'm not some weak person. I know ways in there," I shot back, determination seeping into my voice.

"What? Through the side door hidden by that pretentious foliage, leading to the shoe storage closet. Then through there, you find a cellar, so you go down the stairs, and then you-"

His words hit me like a wave, and I blanched at the new revelation. He knew another way in? "How do you know about this?"

Nate's gaze turned solemn as he revealed a truth I wasn't prepared for. "I've studied your whole house, Ellie. I've been in there more times than you can count."

"Before or after you've known me?" My voice shook with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

He didn't answer immediately, his angry eyes locked onto mine. But behind the anger, there was something else, something akin to fear.

"Before or after me?" I repeated, my voice growing stronger as I sought an answer.

He remained silent, leaving the question hanging in the tense air between us
"Before or after me?" I screamed, rushing towards him until our faces were inches apart.

His chest heaved, but he remained resolutely silent. His lack of words spoke volumes, as if the truth was emblazoned across his skin.

"You disgust me. Your lies and everything else you claim to be is so disgusting I can't even stand to be near you," I seethed, my anger almost a palpable force between us. Stepping back several paces, I struggled to find an outlet for the searing rage coursing through my veins, and he became its unwitting target.

"Anything else you want to reveal to me? Or will tomorrow be a better time?" I asked sarcastically, the bitterness of my emotions dripping from every word. The intensity of my anger was overwhelming, and the sight of him seemed like the perfect focal point.

Mentally steeling myself for an exchange of venomous words, I found myself unable to follow through. Though he appeared unhesitatingly willing to hurt me, I couldn't bring myself to inflict the same pain upon him.

Nate continued to stare at me, his eyes a well of unreadable emotions, while I released a small scream of frustration.

"Gosh, I'm such a fool," I admitted, my voice losing its strength as a quiver returned to it. Glancing around the room we now oddly shared, I made a quick decision to leave.

I began to move around the room, collecting my belongings as I passed each item. Though it wasn't much, I grabbed whatever I could.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked, breaking his silence.

"Oh, you have a voice now?" I retorted, my tone dripping with sarcasm as I brushed past him, heading toward the dresser. There was nothing there worth taking, but the act gave me some semblance of control amidst the chaos.

As I sifted through the contents of the dresser with a frustrated sigh, I felt his eyes on me, burning into my back. The room seemed to close in around us, suffocating with tension and unspoken truths.

"You really think you can just walk away from this?" Nate's voice was strained, a touch of vulnerability lacing his words.

I turned to face him, my anger momentarily overshadowed by confusion. "Walk away from what, exactly? From your lies? From the fact that you invaded my life?"

What else was there to stay for? I just felt so disgusted in myself. I latched on the first person that showered me with love and attention. Blame it on my lack of love in my life. And of course, the person I thought was so genuine turned out to be the worst kind. A fake user.

His jaw clenched, his anger flaring up again. "You think you know everything? You think I wanted it to be like this?"

Ignoring his presence, my already thin patience frayed further, as I bombarded him with questions "Was any of it with me true? Were any of our midnights actually real, or was everything just a concoction of what you prepared prior?" My voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt as I took a few steps back, my heart racing.

Shaking my head, I shot him a glare that could have burned holes in steel. "Don't you dare come closer."

"Ellie, listen to me-"

"Answer me!" I shouted, my emotions bubbling over, and I hurled whatever was in my hand towards him. It turned out to be a hairbrush, and it sailed towards him with a surprising force.

He moved just in time, the hairbrush bouncing off the floor beside him. "Everything was real," he said firmly, his voice carrying an unexpected earnestness. "I didn't expect you, of all people, to be sitting there when I just wanted somewhere quiet to shit as well."

"But you knew who I was?" My voice wavered, a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

"Of course I did."

"Let me guess; you knew me before you even met me."

"Our lives have been intertwined long before we met, Ellie," he revealed, his tone carrying a weight of truth. "Our parents were best friends, and believe it or not, it's like I've always known you."

"Bullshit," I shot back, my skepticism still firmly in place. "You only know of me because of your father's plan to bring down mine. All in revenge for your mother."

"My mother didn't deserve any of this."

True, but neither did I, Nate," I responded, my anger giving way to a pang of sadness as I remembered all that had transpired.

"I know Ellie. And I'm sorry. But I promise to make all this better."

"Nate. I honestly don't care for your promise. I need you get on with your life and I'll do the same with mine."

"Like heck you are." He snapped.

I rolled my eyes. "I got on fine without you. I'll learn to get on with life and fuck me if I ever lose my touch like I did with you."

Nate was on me faster than I expected. One second he was across for me and the other, he had me pinned against the walls, his hand around my throat. Any other person would panic being in this position, but I glared at Nate with nothing but hatred in my eyes.

I could only do that, as opposed to screaming and fighting him off me, because I knew within my bones that regardless of what was happening between us, Nate would never hurt me.

Not like that. Ever.

His touch, surprisingly cool against my skin, sent a shiver down my spine as he tilted his head, his gaze eerily fixed upon me. "You're going to leave?" he inquired, a tinge of something unrecognizable in his voice.

"Why not?" I retorted, my tone edged with defiance.

"Are you really?" he persisted, his words hanging between us like a palpable tension.

I looked at him, my eyes narrowing slightly as I tried to decipher the change in his voice. It was as if something had shifted, some hidden emotion now coming to the forefront.

"Yes, I am," I affirmed, my determination unwavering.

"How?" he pressed, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Through the door," I responded, my tone laced with impatience. The simple question and answer seemed like a bizarre dance in the midst of our complicated emotions.

"Try it," he suggested, his voice taking on an oddly cryptic quality that sent a shiver of uncertainty down my spine.