Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
My stab wound blazed beneath the hot spray, giving me something to latch onto.
I liked the agony.
I deserved it.
The urge to find another blade and open the scar on my leg flickered in my coal-black mind.
For ten minutes, Ily and I shared a silent shower, taking turns to rinse beneath the heavy pummel of water. Our bodies became clean, but my soul? That became darker than death.
Wringing out her hair, squeezing clear water not scarlet, Ily swayed into the wall.
“Oops.” She giggled.
My heart wrenched to a stop.
I’d never heard her make such a light-hearted sound before.
It was the quickest flare of brightness in my otherwise wretched existence.
Every atom in my body urged me to reach out and support her wobbly steps as she tripped drunkenly out of the shower and clung to the towel rail.
She giggled again as she patted the fluffy towel. “Sorry.”
She’s apologising to the furniture now?
I thought whatever that damn doctor gave her was supposed to be mild?
Wrenching off the shower, I stepped dripping wet onto the bathmat and caught my reflection. The glass above the white vanity fogged with steam, my image hazy and clouded. But even in the mist, my eyes seemed to burn a dull grey full of bone-deep exhaustion. A tiredness that didn’t just come from physical activity or the mental weariness of murder, but something so much deeper.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the wasted man staring back at me was on a slippery slope to burn out, and I didn’t really want to stop it.
If I burned out…this all ended.
I can finally rest.
Alone.
Wrapping herself in a towel, Ily hissed between her teeth, then walked with great concentration out of the bathroom.
Snatching a second towel from the rack, I dried off my hair and swiped my body dry. Agony bellowed in every inch. My arm never stopped bleeding, hinting that the lightheaded wooziness might not just be from thickening depression but also blood loss.
Wrapping the towel around my waist, I strode into the bedroom and spied Ily resting on the bed.
She lay star-fished beneath her towel. Arms and legs spread as if not wanting to touch any part of herself. Flat on her back where Kyle hadn’t been able to shoot her, she breathed shallowly through her nose, obviously still in a lot of pain.
I lingered over her.
The urge to cup her cheek and promise I’d make everything better almost broke whatever wasn’t broken inside me.
Everything I touch gets hurt…
Turning away, I fought the urge to run into the night and sacrifice myself to the churning, clawing chasm inside me.
I couldn’t cope like this.
I couldn’t be this way.
I wanted out.
I wanted to forget.
I want…
Christ.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I backed away.
What I wanted I could never have, and if I tried, I’d only hurt her worse.
With shaky hands, I grabbed the medical supplies Rose had gathered for us, then carted them back into the bathroom.
Wiping off the mirror, I rummaged in the packets of bandages, arnica cream, and other salves.
I found salvation in distraction.
I did everything I could to avoid looking into the black maw growing ever bigger inside me. Tendrils of midnight wrapped around me, tugging me closer, closer…
My breath came faster as I found a small packet with a sterilised needle and surgical thread. I stared at my stab wound and imagined sewing myself together like a cobbler with leather.
The room tilted.
My breathing turned raspy.
My chest expanded until the contusion on my side glowed with dirty colours.
I fell into that swirl of pain.
My eyesight blurred at the edges.
I hyper-fucking-ventilated.
Blackness exploded through me, strangling me, throttling me—
My knees buckled as a fear I’d never felt before hammered into every bone.
Clutching the sink, I bent over the vanity, and panted.
I fucking panted and gasped, shaking and quaking as frenzied panic ripped through me.
It vised my chest, gagged my throat, and murdered me with every bad thing, wrong urge, and despicable desire.
I almost lost her.
I came face to face with it all.
Every decision.
Every choice.
I fucking despised myself.
The things I’ve done—
I retched.
Empty stomach acid burned my throat and splashed into the sink. Black despair spewed up and out, purging with every choke. Sweat dripped down my back as I pressed my forehead to the tap and rode out the spasms. The familiar regurgitation that’d punished me my entire life did its best to cripple me.
And for once, I was grateful.
So fucking thankful that the overload of insidious poison inside siphoned down the drain. I didn’t vomit food. I vomited up my very essence.
By the time I stopped, I could barely stand.
She needs you…
Groaning, I commanded my muscles to brace and spine to straighten. Catching my stare in the mirror, I flinched at the creature staring back. My skin was bone white and eyes haunted as a graveyard.
But at least I hadn’t been devoured by the darkness…