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Chapter 23
Addie
Ihave never understood the concept of falling in love.
Of course, I had seen it done before in movies and television, but never in real life. My parents hadn’t loved each other, at least, not the type of love I yearned to experience myself. Their marriage had been one of convenience and necessity. Maybe, at first, they had felt love towards one another. Maybe they had believed their relationship would have a fairytale happy ending. Maybe they had believed that their love would conquer all.
Maybe the world was harsher than they had expected, numerous obstacles prohibiting them from reaching that finish line.
Love, I had come to realize, isn’t perfect. You can’t just bottle up all of your feelings into a nice, diminutive box. No, that would be too easy.
They say that love hits you when you least expect it, barreling down on you like a ton of bricks. I suppose that analogy is true. Depending on where you are when that love hits makes a difference on whether or not you survive it. Standing in water? You would drown. Standing on land? Maybe, just maybe, you would be strong enough to carry the weight across the finish line. Some people believe that you have to do it alone, but I know that’s not true. Your partner would be with you every step of the way, shouldering the burden that you’re unable to carry.
Once you realize that, once you fully grasp that concept, would you finally be able to receive your own happily ever after.
I thought that all as I maintained eye-contact with Ryder. I didn’t want him to have to face this alone.
I’m here, I thought. I’ll always be here.
I continued to stare at him when Liz clapped her hands gleefully, raving about his new song, and I stared even when she kissed his neck. He shuddered, and while she had mistaken it for lust, I understood what it really was.
Disgust.
“You want to move straight to the honeymoon, don’t you?” Liz said in a voice that she no doubt thought was sultry. Ryder’s face paled drastically at the implication.
“The wedding first,” he rasped.
I stared when Liz’s face contorted into a pout before a devious gleam entered her eyes. I stared when her hands traced patterns across his shoulders, down his stomach, and into the waistband of his pants. Ryder winced, squeezing his eyes shut.
It was only then that I looked away. I couldn’t save him from what was to come, but I could give him the privacy he wanted. I knew, without having to be told, that he didn’t want me to see him like this.
I planted my gaze firmly on the three-tiered chandelier. Bright, artificial lighting made the room seem almost golden. Cozy. It was one word I wouldn’t ever associate with the disgusting room.
No, not cozy. Horrifying, maybe.
But the room was like Liz in that sense. The beauty hid a darker, malevolent entity. I would never be able to forget this beautiful room with its intricately carved woodwork and freshly painted walls just as I would never forget Liz’s face. She would haunt my nightmares, right alongside my mother and father.
I was brought out of my thoughts by the slash of a knife across my cheek. I let out a cry, an instinctive sound, and whipped my head in the offender’s direction.
The copper handle fit perfectly in Liz’s hand, the penetrating blade dripping with blood. My blood.
“Stop! Please stop! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” Ryder screamed.
I didn’t want to know what he had agreed to.
But, somehow, I already knew.
I continued to look away, continued to grant him this one relief, as Liz let out a loud moan. I kept my eyes fixated on the chandelier as Ryder began to cry, horrible desperate pleas.
I knew I was crying as well. I could taste the tears in my mouth, feel them on my cheeks.
It was too much.
Ryder’s sobbing cut off abruptly, and I dared peek over at the two of them. Liz was still sitting on top of Ryder - head thrown back in ecstasy as she ground against him - but Ryder’s face was utterly impassive.
I could see the tear-stains on his face, but his eyes were vacant. He didn’t notice me, Liz, or anything else in the room. He had retreated into his own mind.
I don’t want to talk about everything I saw. I don’t want to talk about the silent tears cascadingdown Ryder’s face or his mouth opening in a silent scream that no one would hear.
