Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Falling to my knees, I sob as I open the small rectangular box. If Mom were here, she’d pull me in her arms and promise she’d fix it all. Her words always healed me in some way. They had power like Hudson’s do.
Did.
He’s gone.
“I’ll make sure he stays away for life.”
Nine hundred dollars’ worth of metal shimmers in the overhead light. Beckons to me. Reveals an answer.
“Why does our love story have to be a tragedy?”
“I guess all the good ones are.”
Sharp. Brilliant. A way out.
I pick them up and marvel at them. Slide my middle finger and thumb through the holes to learn the weight of them.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
I vividly remember visiting Mom at the shop as she snipped away at her clients’ hair, making them go from sloppy to chic within minutes. She took something messy and made it beautiful.
Running my other thumb along the open blade of the scissors, I gasp. Crimson beads along the slice and I become transfixed on the way the blood drips on my bare thigh. Thighs that only hours ago were wrapped around Hudson.
I set the scissors down on the carpet and shove both my sleeves up. My arms are pale, but I can see the bluish veins beneath the surface. Is it that easy?
It will hurt.
My soul fucking hurts.
Anything would feel better than that.
I pick the scissors back up, this time holding them open, my palm digging into one of the blades. The bite of pain stings, but it isn’t the worst in the world. I poke the tip of the other blade into my wrist. It doesn’t puncture the skin, but when I drag it up my forearm, the skin opens up.
I remain still, staring at the bright red blood gushing from the line.
That didn’t hurt.
No, the only thing that hurts is knowing I’ll never see Hudson again.
That fucking hurts.
My hands begin to shake and my tears fall harder. With fumbling hands, I move the scissors into the other hand. The blade, this time, pokes harder and immediately breaks the skin. Burning pain tears along my flesh as the metal opens me up, but I don’t hate it. I welcome the burn. I grow fixated on the blood.
It reminds me of when Hudson shaved my legs. When he accidentally cut my knee. His lips to my flesh gave me hope. Hope for a future and happiness. That small gift was a tiny seed that grew inside me. Nourished only by him. It grew and grew and grew and grew until it bloomed. Love. It bloomed into everlasting love.
And then they cut it.
Cut that hopeful, soul-rattling, blinding love from its source and stomped on it.
I was dead the moment they took him from me.
Sleepiness washes over me. I don’t want to sleep, though. I want to stare at the beautiful blood that has colored my thighs and carpet. I want to use it to help me remember that time in the bathroom. I want to think of Hudson and him inside me.
Kissing and touching.
Not sick. Not wrong.
Love.
My head hits the carpet with a thunk and I have trouble keeping my eyes open.
I’ll sleep now.
“What have you done?” he says, falling on his knees beside me. He’s not here. He’s not real. They’ve taken him away for life. That’s what Aunt Becky said. “I’m here,” he growls.
Blinking up at him, I smile. “I think I’m dying.”
His perfect lips rain kisses down on me. Soft and worshipping. So Hudson. “You’re not dying.”
I hold up my bloody arm. The gash is gnarly. Open and gushing. He tries to hold it closed. Hudson, my strong, beautiful brother, can’t hold it closed. I’m too far gone.
“Every good love story ends in tragedy,” I say.
“Ours wasn’t supposed to.”
He holds up the scissors, bright with my blood. “Show me how,” he says.
I run my shaking, bloody finger along his forearm. “There.”
Together, we stare in awe as he cuts open his flesh. Hudson doesn’t want to be alone either. He wants to be with me.
Sick. Sick. Sick.
Together, we’re healed.
He cuts the other side and then he bleeds. Pulls me to him and holds me close. Kisses my head and promises me our love won’t end here.
A love like ours transcends the simple minds of those who occupy this world.
Our love is too powerful to exist in such a place.
“We’re not a tragedy,” Hudson says, his voice sleepy like mine.
Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.
Our mouths mate like our bodies no longer can.
“Look at us. We are.” I laugh, but no one hears it. No one but Hudson. Like always.
“No.” His voice is fierce, even though it’s fading. “We’re a happily ever after. Just a complicated one.”
Hudson
I’ve made bail.
Unreal.
Barely a night spent in jail. I was sure I’d spend the next decade or two locked away. Bradley told me I was looking at some time if they could somehow secure a testimonial. The claims of incest and assault would prove to be a violent concoction that could earn me many years. As I fell into a fitful sleep, worrying over Rylie, I’d come to accept my fate.