She reached up and placed her palms against his cheeks, forcing him to look at her as she spoke.

“You’re beautiful.”

Aiden smiled widely at her words, his eyes now covered with a faint sheen of moisture. A creaking noise was heard outside the door and Spencer glanced at Aiden.

Sniffing loudly, he leaned down and grabbed her clothes and handed them to her.

She kicked her wet clothes near the dirty towels, the Fighting Irish tee shirt sticking momentarily to her big toe.

The bathroom was silent. More creaking could be heard outside as a shadow danced under the crack at the bottom of the door.

Aiden headed towards the door, his hand reaching for the knob.

Spencer’s chest went hot, her eyes darting to Aiden’s muscular shoulder blades, the nook where her fingernails dug into when he made love to her, and the crevasse where her hands rested when he hugged her.

The door opened and a bit of light poured onto the tile. Seconds later she was staring at herself in the mirror, fully clothed, a single tear balanced on her chin, only seconds later losing its grip and splashing onto the front of her shirt.

The steps were in motion. She had to continue, force the snowball to keep moving, the momentum carrying her to safety, with no time to glance back at what had happened, at the train wreck that existed fifty feet back.

If she faltered, she’d die; simple as that.

She had let Aiden go, freed him from her hell, where he had stood watch with the whip, tears streaming down his cheeks as he was witness to her self destruction, the Devil’s right-hand man, promised the granting of a wish that Aiden knew, deep down, would never come to life.

Spencer’s legs forced her out the bathroom and onto the stairs, ignoring the cries and pleas that erupted from the bathroom, the frantic flailing of clawed fingertips that reached for her heels as she fled.

Her strength was fading, seeping out of her pores like liquid, dripping off her body towards the floor, only to be sucked out into space, absorbed by the atmosphere that surrounded her.

She didn’t have much time before the second-guessing began. The lies would flow and the pain in her head would commence, distorting her thoughts, forcing her into submission. Fuck, she couldn’t let that happen.

Glancing around the kitchen, she searched desperately for Ashley, her window of opportunity shrinking exponentially, the floor opening up inch by inch, awaiting her return with glee, as flames flickering menacingly towards the ceiling prepared to suck her back down to the hell where she belonged.