It’s torture.
“Look at me.”
My eyes snap up at the ghostly command, and I choke on my own sob as I stare right at Cameron, where he’s approached the side of the bed.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m so sorry I did this to you, sweetheart. You didn’t deserve it.”
Jeremy stands silently and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him.
“Don’t apologize,” Cameron tells me, and he looks so much like an angel right now that I can’t breathe.
“How are you here? Am I dead, too? Is this hell?”
Everyone is being far too nice to me for this to be hell, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe my purgatory is drowning in guilt as I relive the kindness of my victims.
“You’re not dead.I’mnot dead,” Cameron explains.
“Yes, you are. Ikilledyou. I watched it,” I demand.
“No, baby, you didn’t. You came back; you stopped it.”
Baby. A broken sob escapes me, and Cameron sits on the edge of the bed next to where I’m lying, his hand cupping my cheek just as he did before I choked the life from his body.
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
“I’ll explain everything later. Once you’re fixed,” he says. “But you have to understand that youdidn’thurt anyone. No one. It was all in your head.”
“My head?” I repeat.
“Yes.” Cameron leans down, brushing his lips over mine briefly. Gently. “Everyone is safe. You included. I… I am so sorry, Atticus. I shouldn’t have listened to it. I shouldn’t have tried to…”
His voice trails off, becoming just as choked up as mine.
And he’shere. Really here. It was… it was all in my head?
“Don’t,” I grit out. “You did nothing wrong. The only mistake you made was loving someone like me.”
“Hey,” Cameron snaps, gripping my face with both hands. “Don’teversay that again. Loving you is the best decision I’ve ever made.”
“But—”
Another knock sounds at the door, cutting me off, and I look up in time to see Atlas rushing in.
“Atticus!” he shouts, falling on top of me, forcing Cameron to stand.
A violent sob leaves me at the life in his eyes, the way he’s warm and here and so fucking precious.
“Atty, darling,” I sob. “Oh, god. Atlas, I… I thought I…”
“I know,” he shushes. “Jeremy just told me. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and Momma and Papa called the reverend last night. He’s here to help you.”
“My Atty.” I want to grip his thin shoulders, run a hand through his soft brown curls. “My beautiful boy. Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a heart attack. I need you to hold me; please, Atlas, hold me.’
I sound like a child—a broken little boy begging for comfort. Atlas wraps his arms around my neck, burying his tear-soaked face against my skin.
“I’ve got you,” he cries. “I’ve got you.”
“My babies,” Mother’s voice sounds, and I open my eyes to see that everyone else has come into the room, standing by the door.
