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I wish they had killed me then. I wish I had died that day eleven years ago. If I had, Ben would still be here.
He never would have met me, so he never would have died because of me.
I cry harder, growling at nothing and everything, and I fall back onto the floor. I roll onto my back, tears falling into my ears and hair as I start to shake.
It’s all my fault. Everything is my fault.
Temperance is dead.
Ben is dead.
My uncle is probably dead.
My mate and I wish each other were dead.
“Fuck.” My entire being quakes and I can’t take it.
I throw my hand out, feeling around in the mess until I find a large enough piece of glass, and then I close my fist around it, squeezing until its blade buries itself into my palms.
There's nothing left for me in this world or the human one, and even if there were, I wouldn’t want it.
So, with a heavy sense of numbness, I lift the sharp shard and drag it from my left wrist to the bend of my elbow. Rolling over, I fist Ben’s ashes, watching as my blood mixes with them, creating a pile of mush that cannot be saved.
I don’t want it to be saved.
I want to die right here beside him.
I don’t want to feel the empty pit Knight will never fill.
I don’t want to breathe the air that’s stale in comparison to when he’s near, only I don’twanthim near.
“I hate him! I hate everyone!” I cry.
My lips part, and I scream until I can’t anymore, burying my face in my hands, then banging them against the floor over and over until the blood not only comes from the wounds I created, but the new ones I’ve earned. My knuckles are deformed, the bones cracked, my body too heavy to hold as I slump backward, hitting my head on the edge of the cot on the way down, but I don’t fucking care.
I’m so.
Fucking.
Done.
Exhaustion falls over me like a warm, weighted blanket, and for a moment I wonder if it’s time. The ambience of calmness feels like a shot of heroin, and I shiver when ice rolls through my veins like death itself welcoming me home.
Please let it be time...
“How’s my little troublemaker doing—” I think I hear through the ringing white noise pounding at the back of my head. “What the fuck?!”
My eyes peel open just as someone drops beside me. His face is blurry at first, but then baby blue eyes are staring into mine. They’re wild, tired … and something else I can’t name.
“Ledge?”
“Yeah, baby, hold on.”
“No.” I pull away, but the movement is broken, shaking my head. “What are you doing here? Le—leave me alone.”
“Ain’t happening.” He wraps his arms under my body, lifting me with zero effort, and sets me on the bloody cot while he looks me over more. “What the fuck is all over you?”
“What your brother left of my best friend,” I tell him, searching for a reaction through heavy lids. He either doesn’t give one or my focus is too fucked to catch it. Likely the former.
