Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

I hated him. I hated his vile words and his cigarettes and
his arrogance and insanity in thinking he wasn’t responsible
for anything. I hated how he grabbed and threatened and
wouldn’t let me go. He had no right.
And I hated that I’d missed him. I hated that so fucking
much.
How I still felt the parts about him I loved when I didn’t
know it was him I was with. How his arms around me still felt
protective and how his whispers reminded me of when I loved
the feel of them all over my neck.
I shook my head. It was an act. It had all been an act. He’d
used me.
I stood up and closed my eyes, stretching my arms over
my head to wake up my body.
A light rain tapped my window, and I inhaled, smelling it
seeping into the house as I tried to clear my head. Coffee first.
A creak sounded above me, and I tipped my head back,
training my ears on the sound. Who would be in the attic? No
one went up there except servants, and we no longer had any
of those. Full time ones, anyway.
Stepping over to my chaise, I picked up the sweater laying
on it and pulled it on, rubbing my arms against the chill. I
pulled my hair up into a ponytail and removed my chair
lodged under my doorknob before unlocking my bedroom
door and swinging it open. Not that anything would stop
Damon from getting into this room if he wanted, but at least it
would take more than one kick and give me a warning bell of
sorts when I was dead asleep at night.
I stepped into the hallway, the cool wood under my feet
creaking as I yawned.
So quiet.
I stood there, hearing the rain outside create a shield of
white noise around the house, and somewhere, deep in the
house, a breeze whistled through a cracked window or wall. A
chickadee sang in the distance, every little sound amplified,
because there was nothing else drowning them out. No noise.