Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
And I stay there for a moment, both our bodies frozen in time even as the clock ticks away steadily. All that can be heard are our rapid breaths coming from our red-hot lips. Sweat trickles down her chest into the beautiful crevice between her tits, the place where she hides all the secrets to unlock her heart.
But I’ve finally managed to puncture through.
A devilish smile spreads on my face as her eyes lock with mine. “Do it,” I growl. “Kill me.”
The look on her face darkens, her teeth clenching as she contemplates her options. I can feel the sharp pain of the blade cutting my skin, but I ignore it. Her eyes flicker with rage, fear, and guilt all at the same time, and it’s consuming her whole.
“That’s what you want to do, right?” I say, and I grab her wrist and push the blade farther against me until the blade digs into my skin, drawing blood, which oozes down the blade. “Just one step away.”
She shivers in place, a tear rolling down her cheek. Still, she doesn’t relent. But the pain in her eyes … I’ve only seen that kind once before.
In the mirror.
“Look at it,” I growl. “Look at the knife.”
Her eyes follow my direction to the blade, and they widen slowly.
“You did it once. You can do it again,” I say.
Her lips quiver, her grip on the knife slowly disintegrating until it finally drops to the floor. “I can’t.”
But surprise overtakes me when instead of taking out her rage on me, she leans in and kisses me.
Amelia
Tears, sweat, and sex all mix in this simple but devastating kiss. I don’t know why I felt the urge to kiss him, but the second I saw the blood run down the knife, I knew I had to stop. I didn’t want to hurt him, even if I hate him for what he’s done to me.
For what he’s made me remember.
Because this knife … isn’t his.
It’s mine.
When our lips unlock, I can’t find it in me to push back, to lean away, to get off him. My body is frozen in place as I stare at the red droplets rolling down his neck. The same blood I saw that day my whole world caved in on me.
“This is my knife …” I stammer.
“You remember it now … don’t you?” Eli whispers, his eyes still on me like a hawk.
But my mind is slipping further and further away into the unknown, into the memories I thought I had lost but were merely banished to the back of my mind.
“I did it,” I mutter as Eli licks his lips and holds me steady on his lap. “I … killed him.”
“Who?” he asks, clutching my face with both hands. “Say his name.”
A single tear tumbles down my cheeks as my lips part, the depravity of my own actions breaking me in two. “Chris.”
Chapter 31
Amelia
Birthday night
After a long day of working in the library, I couldn’t go home. Not until I had emptied at least two bottles of wine. I didn’t mean to get drunk, but when you’re all by yourself and your birthday is celebrated by contemplating your relationship with your cheating boyfriend, that’s what happens.
I’ll have the biggest hangover tomorrow, but I don’t care even the slightest as long as I can bury my head in the sand. When I finally get home after the bartender kicked me out, I take a deep breath before I open the door as I’m expecting Chris to be waiting for me. I’m not looking forward to it, but I know we need to talk. So I shove my keys inside and throw my bag on the dresser.
“Chris?” I call out in my drunken voice.
But there’s no reply. Not even a sound.
Where is he?
I walk into the living room and come to a cold, hard stop.
There are clothes littered all around the apartment floor and furniture.
Women’s clothes.
I gulp.
No. No. This can’t be happening.
That kiss was a one-time thing, right?
He wouldn’t bring a woman into our home—our bedroom—right?
Suddenly, the door to the bedroom bursts open. Chris stands in the doorway, half-naked. A storm brews on his face, and the moment he sees me, it’s like a volcano erupted in his eyes. “You … You’re not supposed to be here.”
His nostrils flare, rage flooding his face.
Suddenly, he charges at me, and he shoves me all the way to the kitchen island, his hands wrapped around my throat.
It’s not the first bruise, or the first cut, or the first hit. But it’s the first real threat to my life.
Panic fills my veins, and I instantly go into fight or flight mode. I try to squeal, try to shove him off me, but it’s no use. He’s much stronger than I am, and my drunken body is unequipped to deal with the situation. I claw at his fingers, biting my own lip in the process, but nothing works, and I’m fading fast.