Page 17 of Kill Me

I can’t help but laugh. I’ve laughed more in the last few hours than I think I have since that dreaded night of my accident. I've been so focused on trying to recover my memories that I haven’t looked at the life around me and what it could be. What he’s saying makes sense. I’ve spent years harming myself in every way I could imagine, but I was always hesitant to go too far. Sometimes I have, don’t get me wrong, but it was never intentional. I just always assumed it was part of my need for attention.

“Can you help me recover memories?”

“I can try. There’re no guarantees, but there are a few avenues we can try, and if you’re willing to put the work in, anything is possible.”

“I think I am. Tonight, when I lost my footing, immediately, I didn’t want to die. But I didn’t know if that was normal. And I was scared to tell you in case you walked away. I started tonight determined to die, but it’s like you’ve lit a spark inside of me. You see me. Not just the way I look, but it’s like you have a window to my soul. It’s fucking creepy. But I think that spark inside of me may just want to stay alive.”

“I’m what people call an enigma. Most enigmas are mysterious or difficult to understand, but I’m an anomaly; I just have the ability to appear that way until you find your way in. Once you’re in, it’s game over, and I’m just a cheesy man full of feelings, desperate to heal myself as well as others, so maybe we can heal each other. I'm not going anywhere, Quinn. I told you earlier, you're stuck with me. But whenever you need that reassurance, just ask.”

“This is going to take me time to adjust. I’ve never been able to trust anyone except for my best friend, Millie… and even then—”

“And even then, what?”

“I don’t know. Something happened to me a long time ago, and I can’t remember it—hence the recovering of memories—and since then she’s just been… different. Like she knows something I don’t know.”

“Well, then, let’s see what we can do about getting you better. You deserve to smile, Quinn. Your smile is too beautiful to hide away from the world. You’re too beautiful to be hidden away from the world, and by the time I’m done with you, I’ll never let you hide away again.”

“Well, I suppose you better give me your phone then.”

He grins. One of those grins that steals the oxygen from the room and the little sanity you have left in your brain. I put in my number with the promise to reply when he texts me, and he insists on walking me home. We walk side by side, every so often our arms brushing against each other like it’s inevitable that one day they’ll be joined together. Like it’s sealed in fate. Which is funny because the only fate I ever believed in was that life was going to be hell.

Once we reach the gate that opens to the path of my parents’ house, I pause, breath held, adrenaline coursing, and all of a sudden feeling like the last few hours were a huge mistake, and I need to go back to the bridge.

“Quinn…”

“Hmmmm?”

“Look at me.” I do as he says and memorise his face like it’s the last thing I’ll ever see. “Look at my face, and take a deep breath. In through your nose, and out through your mouth.” As I breathe, I feel his hand on my chin; my body ripples with goosebumps, the hairs standing on end. My breaths start off shallow, almost stuttering, the feel of his hand touching my skin, grounding me in this moment. Making me feel things that I didn’t know I could ever feel. Safety. Hope. The inability for me to avoid processing those emotions slams into me like a sledgehammer, and I open my eyes, my breathing instantly steadier.

“Better?”

“Much.” He lifts his hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, and my heart swoons. I’ve only ever read these things in books. “Well, Little Magpie, until tomorrow, when the real work begins. If you need me, just holler.”

As he turns, the smell of his cologne wafting in the air, he stops and turns back. “What’s your safe word, Quinny?”

“Magpie.”

His lips curve into a smile that reaches his eyes, the amber flecks burning with either happiness or desire; it’s hard to tell which one.

“Perfect. Goodnight, Little Magpie, I'll be seeing ya.”

“Goodnight, Bones.”

“Bones?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re a doctor.”

“Not of bones.”

“Yeah, but you’re funny. So you know, funny bones.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Bones, thank you for saving my life.”

“I didn’t save you, Quinn. You did. But I'll be the safety net just in case you need it.”

I watch him walk away, his confident swagger cemented in my brain for the rest of eternity.