Chapter 4

The force sent me stumbling sideways. The back of my head slammed against the hallway wall with a dull thud.

"Tyler!"

Amber jumped off the couch and grabbed his arm.

"Don't hit her! Can't you two just talk this out?"

Tyler was panting heavily, his eyes bloodshot like a rabid animal.

"Maya, are you going to clean it up or not?"

I leaned against the wall, slowly straightening my back.

My head spun, but I refused to fall.

I looked past him at Amber, admiring her perfectly calculated look of distress and concern.

Every time she put on that helpless act, Tyler would feel an overwhelming urge to protect her—and hate me even more.

"No," I said.

This time, my voice didn't waver at all.

Tyler moved to lunge at me again, but Amber held him back, pressing her body against his arm.

"Tyler, please stop! Maya's just in a bad mood, let's not make a scene."

"Just leave the mess here. She'll clean it up tomorrow once she cools off."

Tyler stood there, his chest heaving violently.

He stared at me, and I stared right back at them.

"Fine," he finally rasped, his voice rough.

"You clean it up first thing in the morning."

"Also, Amber is staying over tonight. It’s too late for her to drive back."

"You sleep in the guest room with me. Give her the master bedroom."

Amber tugged at his sleeve again, feigning guilt. "Tyler, that doesn't feel right. Maya will be upset..."

"Who gives a damn if she's upset?" Tyler sneered, turning to look at Amber with sickening tenderness. "All that matters is that you're comfortable."

Amber lowered her gaze, the corners of her lips curling into a smug, subtle smirk.

"Okay," I said.

I didn't object.

Both of them stared at me, clearly shocked by how easily I surrendered.

"You guys take the master bedroom," I added smoothly, then turned on my heel and walked into the guest room.

Night fell.

Tyler lay on the far side of the bed, his back turned to me.

He was texting someone; the glow from his screen illuminated the wall.

I couldn't sleep. I just lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling.

Sometime later, the mattress shifted slightly.

Tyler sat up. His movements were calculated, careful not to wake me.

He slipped into his slides, grabbed his phone, and tiptoed out of the guest room.

The door clicked shut with a faint snap.

I remained frozen in the dark.

A few minutes later, muffled giggles drifted from the master bedroom next door, followed by hushed whispers.

The guest room shared a wall with the master bedroom, and the soundproofing was terrible.

I could hear his low laughter, her soft gasps, and the rhythmic squeak of the bed springs.

I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted the metallic tang of blood.

My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice.

I lay there listening to the sickening symphony next door for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, I slipped out from under the covers.

Barefoot, I walked down the hall and stopped right outside the master bedroom door.

The sounds inside were loud and clear.

I raised my phone, opened the voice memo app, and pressed the microphone against the door.

I recorded for about two minutes.

Then I lowered the phone, turned around, and walked back to the guest room.

I tucked the phone beneath my pillow, lay down, and closed my eyes.

This time, the sounds from next door couldn't hurt me anymore.

Not because I couldn't hear them, but because my heart was completely dead.