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I terrify him.
"You're a monster," he shakes his head at me, continuing to back away.
"Raf, I…" I try to speak, but the look in his eyes is enough to tell me everything that I need to know.
The me now isn't the me he loves. The me now is…something else.
If before I wanted to make sure he'd always be mine, now I just want to erase that expression from his face, beg him to look at me like he did before.
My bloodied hands reach out for him only to see him recoil.
And then I'm wrenched back to the present. Back to the fact that I haven't moved from my chair, my arms and legs are still tied to the chair, the knife Michele had placed under my chair is still there.
I hadn't moved.
Startling clarity seeps in as I realize themebefore him isnotthe me he loves—it's not one he would ever love.
And so I'm left staring at him. Staring at everything within my grasp but forever out of reach.
Five minutes.
According to the clock, that's all I have left.
"Raf," I whisper, my throat so dry it's physically painful to get the word out.
His face whips back to me, his expression stunning me.
He looks…scared to death.
And that's when I see that he's also counting down the minutes. He's also waiting for something.
Lucero speaks, but I can't hear.
Everything converges into one focal point—his gaze.
Those eyes I'd once given my life for.
To my biggest surprise, he's just as affected as I am, returning my stare with the same intensity. He doesn't acknowledge whatever Lucero is saying. He doesn't even glance at her.
He's only seeing me.
God, but he looks as if he's aged ten years in just a few minutes.
Tears stab at my eyes as I will him to come to me. Touch me one last time.
The knife under my chair is always at the back of my mind, as is the plan todosomething.
Would I? What would I do?
He comes closer. Slowly, reluctantly. His shoulders are slumped as if he's carrying the entire weight of the world on them. And heis. He's carrying the weight of my sins—of our sins.
"Raf," I speak again just as he reaches my side.
I want to ask him to hug me, touch me, kiss me. Give me one last memory before I step foot into hell.
And the question is there—it's always there.
Would I take him with me?
