The doctors said she wasn’t going to die. They said she’d be okay, and the beeping of the monitors was proof she was still alive.
It was also a reminder that in a short time I most likely would be dead.
I shivered a bit, wondering why the hospital room was so cold, and I reached over to pull the blankets closer around her.
She was pale. Her cheeks lacked that pink glow that I’d come to associate with her. Because she looked so white, the bruises on her neck stood out even more and so did the many cuts on her face from the shattered windshield. In many ways she looked like a creation of Frankenstein—all pieced together with many different colors.
Even still, she would be Frankenstein’s most beautiful creation.
I found the edge of the blanket and pushed my hand under it, my fingers seeking her hand, and when I found it, my skin felt like ice against her warmth so instead of wrapping my fingers around hers I settled for resting mine beside them.
I felt heavy and confused. I knew exactly how we got here, but the reasoning behind my actions no longer made sense. What made me think death was more important than life? What made me think it was okay to kill for money, clothes, and my own preservation? When I died—when I pushed her out of the way of that bus—I hadn’t been thinking I would gain from my actions. I hadn’t been thinking anything other than this girl couldn’t die.
What happened to that thought? It somehow got lost between death and life, and now here I was sitting in a hospital beside someone I’d been trying to kill for over a month when, really, from the second I saw her I only wanted her to live.
It seemed hers was the only life I’d ever valued, but it was to her that I brought the promise of death. Charming wanted her abilities and G.R. wanted her body and soul.
And me… what did I want?
I wanted her heart.
My hand flexed when the thought whispered into my mind… My fingers were no longer cold and of their own accord, they sought and entwined with hers. Somewhere between the plotting and the lying, I’d fallen in love with her.
I’d never known love in my life. I always felt like I had a slow leak in my heart… that eventually everything good would drain away until I was left with nothing but a deflated, useless organ inside my chest. But now… now I felt like the leak was patched and someone was slowly breathing life back into what I thought was a lost cause.
And this was how I repaid her.
“I’m a miserable excuse for a person,” I whispered to her, glancing at the closed door. “They let me in here without question when really they should’ve kept me far away.”
The monitors continued their steady beeping as my confession poured right out.
“That man that died for you, the man you mourn for everyday… I’m that man. I know it sounds impossible, I know it sounds like a lie, but it’s the truth and it’s where our story began.”
My fingers curled a little more closely around hers and I took a breath. “I was given a new body and I was promised money and cars and homes… I was promised an eternal life to enjoy and all I had to do was Escort people to death. I never thought death was that big of a deal. But then I was told to kill you. I thought I could do it. I told them I would. I did try… but when it came down to it, I just couldn’t. Death feels like a very heavy burden now.”
I bowed my head so all I could see was my feet.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. That from here on out, your life is safe. I won’t hurt you and no one else will either. Your life is ten times more valuable to me than anything else. I know you won’t forgive me, and I don’t think I deserve it, but I had to say it before I walked out this door and never came back.”
I gently untangled my fingers from hers and pushed out of the chair. I leaned in close, taking advantage of the fact she was still asleep to brush the hair from her face and press my lips against her forehead. She hadn’t heard anything I said and when she opened her eyes, I wouldn’t be there. But I figured leaving now was the kindest thing I could do.
I pulled away and looked down one last time before I went.
She was watching me.
There were tears on her face.
Without thought, I brushed them away with my fingers, watching as her eyes briefly closed. When they reopened they were filled with fear. I pulled my hands back, stuffing them in my pockets, and took a small step backward.
“I know you’re scared of me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m leaving,”
I turned away and went to the door, reaching for the handle.
“Wait,” she called from the bed. Her voice was still hoarse and scratchy, but it was loud enough that my hand paused.
I looked over my shoulder.
“I heard what you said.”
