Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
What was only moments ago a room filled with the sounds of mutual pleasure was now awash in silence. In a single moment, I lost the love of my life.
My eyes darted from where he lay to the gun in my hand.
He died by my hand. I killed him.
Dropping the gun as if it burned me, it fell to the side of the bed with a dull thud.
I moved, and I don’t know how long passed because it felt as though time had stopped.
As I sat on the edge of the bed, my eyes on the prone body of the man who changed me kiss by gentle kiss, I felt something building. Something bleak and foreboding.
Sorrow.
The first sob shot out of me like a bullet leaving a gun, hard and fast. Cradling my head in my hands, howling with grief, I hugged myself and rocked quietly, saying the words over and over again like a mantra.
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.”
Minutes went by, and as my tears continued to fall, I came to the conclusion that one person was to blame.
Sliding off the bed, I crawled over to him on weak knees and lay by my beautiful Turk, stroking his thick hair. “I’m sorry,” left me quietly as I leant in and pressed my lips to his. Another sob left me. I spoke through the tears, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips, whispering, “Wake up, baby.”
But he wasn’t listening.
My body shook from my place on the floor as my tone became desperate. “Everything’s going to be okay.” I sniffled, and explained, “I just need you to wake up.” I paused at his stillness. “Okay?”
Nothing. “Okay?”
Not a word.
My lips trembled, and I stroked his hair harshly as my voice cracked, “Okay?”
I took a moment to look at him. His open eyes were void and hollow, and his gaping mouth seemed to be frozen on a cry he never got the chance to set free.
Closing my eyes, I let out a low whine before body-wracking sobs took me by force. Tears blurred my vision as I wept openly, pulling him to me and holding him in death as I should have in life.
It was okay. Everything would be okay.
My arms shook around his dead weight. I took in what little warmth he had.
We’d just lie here a while, and tomorrow, everything would be fine.
I cradled his head to my bosom and rocked him gently, putting my lips to his temple as I whispered all the things I wish I’d said yesterday.
Everything would be fine.
Unfortunately, everything was not fine.
My eyes swollen from the crying, I looked up as my brother entered the bedroom, his eyes looking from Aslan’s cold, lifeless body to me then back again. He swallowed hard, running a hand down his face, as he uttered a quiet, “Ling....”
I know.
It was bad.
As I crouched in the corner of the room, wearing nothing but my bloodstained skin, I said the only thing I could.
“It was an accident.”
Regretfully, the gunshot wound to his back said differently.
My brother blinked at me a moment before his feet moved and he crossed the room. Van knelt in front of me, taking a soft hand and cupping my cheek before attempting to pick at the bloodstained hair that had dried to my face from when I put my head to Az’s chest in an effort to see if his heart was beating. “It’s okay, Ting-a-Ling.” He lifted me to stand and pulled me into his arms. He held me tightly, rubbing my bare back. “We’ll fix this.”
No.
Didn’t he understand?
This wasn’t something we could fix.
We couldn’t bring him back. Couldn’t make him breathe again, or smile again, or argue with me, or love me with a full heart and an empty mind, damn all the consequences.
My brother snatched the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around my shivering body, pulling me to his side before guiding me out of the bedroom and towards the sofa.
This could not be fixed.
Aslan was dead.
Van sat me down and began to make the necessary phone calls. My gaze turned harsh at the understanding that I would never again hold the man I loved.
And I blamed Twitch.
Chapter
Thirty-One
Lexi
The commotion started as soon as the front door opened, and I listened to it trail the hallway, settling into the family room. From inside the bathroom in my Pikachu slippers, I stopped applying mascara when I heard my little man.
“And Squidward is a butthead, but SpongeBob doesn’t care. He likes him anyway,” explained A.J. enthusiastically.
“Why is he a butthead?” asked Twitch.
“I don’t know. He gets mad and doesn’t like people. He likes his clarinet,” A.J. went on, “The boss, Mr. Krabbs, is a butthead too. He likes money and he’s a crab, but his daughter is a whale and she cries a lot.”