Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“Yes, it does,” he says, and when our gazes connect once again, I’m almost blown away by the sheer fire in his eyes.
“No!” Tears well up in my eyes. “Me remembering what I did, doesn’t change the fact that Chris is still gone.”
He makes a face. “Do you miss him?”
“Yes, no, argh!” I pace around the room until I stop in the middle and just glare at him. “Why does this have to be so confusing?”
“Because emotions are complicated,” he says. “They always have been.”
“I don’t need your lecture,” I retort. “I just want all of this gone. Gone! Do you hear me?”
“Amelia.” He offers a hand, but I ignore him. “I can’t take the memories away.”
“You brought them back!” Tears flow freely down my cheeks. “Take them back! I don’t want them!” I shove him aside when he tries to approach me. “No, get away from me.”
“Amelia—”
“No!” I’ve finally found my voice. I won’t let myself be walked over again. That’s what I’ve always done. Well, not anymore. “You had that knife. My knife. I can’t trust you.”
“I already told you, I got it—”
“From here!” I fill in for him. “So you came into my apartment after I had killed him. Why? How did you even know I was here?” I swallow hard. “Were you the one who got rid of his body?”
He nods, and my insides knot together.
His face suddenly softens. “When you were out on your birthday, I followed you home. I waited and then saw what happened through the window. When I went up there, you were already gone. That’s when I found Chris stabbed, not breathing.”
I choke on my own breath.
“So I called in some favors and had his body removed, and the place cleaned up.”
“Why?” I say through gritted teeth, my voice getting more and more unsteady by the second.
“Because I needed to save you from yourself,” he says. “Because I couldn’t let you do that to yourself. After all you’d been through, for all the pain he made you suffer.” He sighs. “You didn’t deserve to go to jail.”
I can’t fucking believe this.
All this time, I thought I was going insane, but it was him. He cleaned up the body, taking Chris away so I never had to see him again … I didn’t have to see what had become of me.
But at what price?
“One last thing,” I mutter, ignoring the tears still running across my cheeks and the pang in my stomach as I try to shove aside the feelings I have for him. “Did you know I was going to kill him?” I rub my lips together.
He doesn’t reply, which tells me enough. But his face. God … his face … so full of misery and despair that it undoes me.
I shake my head. “I can’t do this.” And I run off into the hallway, down the stairs as fast as I can, as fast as my lungs and beating heart can go. Because if I stop … what will become of me?
How could I accept these emotions for him, for this man who forced me to remember the very thing I wished I could forget?
So I run and run until my legs begin to shake. Until the sky above splits open and heaven itself punishes me with a downpour that douses any flames ignited in my heart.
Eli
I follow her outside toward the grass field, near the woods. Rain pitter-patters down onto us, but I pay no attention to the cold, despite it completely soaking my clothes through in mere minutes.
She stands there with slumped shoulders, staring down at the grass as though it holds a part of her soul. And it moves me to my core to see her like that. It makes me wish I could tear the pain out of her, mend her wound with my bare hands, and sew up the gaping hole so the scar would be almost invisible.
But I know that’s not possible. I’ve seen it firsthand on my own skin, my very own sins that I carry with me on my back to this day.
“This is where I woke up … after I killed Chris …” Her words sound painful. Too painful to listen to. But I must.
I stand behind her, waiting for her to tell me what she really thinks. I know she knows I’m here, and even though our bodies don’t touch, her shoulders still rise and stay that way, as though she can feel the electricity between us. “How did you know I was going to do it?”
“I was watching you. Ever since we met at the library,” I reply. “I saw the bruises. And I knew the pain would become too much for you to bear.”
She shudders, but I don’t know if it’s from the cold or from my answer. “You were stalking me.”