Chapter 18
Dash
Two months later.
The wind cuts across my brow, tracing the furrows of my focused face. I peer through the rifle ’ s scope, eyes narrowed. Every day, the space between Mila and me widens, mirroring the tectonic plates beneath the Earth. Gradually, we drift apart, no longer sharing the same ground.
Her two-week hospital stay following the stab wound changed both our lives. Hope had vanished from Mila ’ s view of the world; she ’ d given up on the fairytale, the tragic dream of changing her world and the monsters within it.
Dom could have killed her. He got so close.
That day haunts me.
It lives and thrives between each inhale I take, squeezing my lungs and making each breath a little less, because I am less without her.
As the school alarm blared, I spun around, running back to the building to find her. It didn ’ t matter that I found her in Dom ’ s arms again. I needed her in mine so I could think clearly and know she was safe! But Dom had already whisked her away.
Then the phone call came—a stark truth.
She didn ’ t call me. I was no longer her savior.She called Damian.
The chase against time, testing fate ’ s limits, shattered my willpower, leaving me broken in a way I never envisioned.
You see, I was always a mess, and so was Mila, but we were together, scattered all over each other ’ s hearts and minds. Together and alive.
But then she was not within my sight, and a monster had her. I didn ’ t have all the shattered pieces that made me think one day, I could feel somewhat whole again. It was just me, and that was terrifying.
It was different when I watched my mother die. I knew it was coming; I hated it and denied it, but deep down, I knew. I was prepared.
Knowing Mila was facing death, not certain if it would claim her—and powerless to stop it—I never want to feel that way again.
I want to cage her, protect her, beg her to forgive me, plead with her to deny me, to love another because I would never be deserving.
I can ’ t show her love.
I can ’ t because, deep down, that ’ s exactly what I want to do.
That would only put a target on her head. I would relive that day time and time again in the future. Mila would be a victim if I announced to the world that I loved her.
I need to trick the world.
There is no calling off the marriage. We ’ ll be stuck together. I ’ ll just have to find another person and make the world think she is more important than Mila.
Suddenly, I feel like a blind man, no longer experiencing the joys and emotions of color. Mila was so colorful; she tainted everything. Everyone else is a dull comparison to her, even now in her current state, where she has succumbed to this gray state of doom.
I ’ m haunted.
Plagued.
Tortured, deservingly so.
I see her stomach with a knife sticking out of it, blood covering the car seat, her wide hazel eyes looking up at me, trying to hide her pain because, in the end, she was trying to comfort me and not herself.
I kept my distance at the hospital, lurking outside her room like an ugly tchotchke on a shelf she was stuck with. Damian and Titan entered, as did Dante and Cillian when they visited her.
I never did. How could I?
I dare not face her. Despite my strong defenses, her eyes could penetrate my armor, always finding the place where I was most vulnerable. Gutting me, reminding me of my failures.
I can never meet her gaze. I’m not worthy.
Her father pulled her out of school for two months to secure his business and protect their family. For two months, I ’ ve observed my little fox struggling to heal in her strong tower. My negligence was a persistent infection she continually had to fight off.
I need to be close enough to defend her yet distant enough to let her resentment toward me fester. She's an insect pinned, trapped, and framed within the walls of my mind. An object to be admired yet feel sorry for.
Every time I blink, I see how I’m killing her aspirations and dreams of freedom. I always knew I ’ d break her, but I never thought I ’ d crumble along with her.
I need to rebuild my walls; I have to survive so she can, even in this hollowed-out state.
And like the tossing of a coin, it ’ s time to land and change sides again. Mila ’ s coming back to school, and with that, I will have to see the love of my life every day up close. Our love can never be acknowledged in the way she deserves.
I can ’ t declare those words because it would be the death of me, of us!
So I think of everything she did, every act of betrayal, pouring it onto the fire roaring in my heart for her. Eventually, the fire will burn out, leaving only smoke and smoldering ashes of our affection.
The crunching of leaves underfoot signals the arrival of another. Damian, no doubt. He ’ s always lurking over Titan and me, like a second shadow glued onto our heels.
I take another look at Mila through my lens before being pulled away. She ’ s in the kitchen dancing as she cooks. She ’ s been doing that a lot lately; as a matter of fact, her family ’ s chef told me Mila has insisted they all only eat organic, as if organic food can cure cancer. It ’ s not like the cancer her dad has will kill him. Prostate cancer: the "good type of cancer," the doctor I spoke to called it. He said the cancer would die with Greg, not Greg from the cancer.
Why wasn ’ t my mother as lucky?
Still, Mila has made it her mission to change his lifestyle, starting with everything labeled organic.
“ You can ’ t do this forever.” Damian steps forward, right into my field of sight. His face etches with annoyance as he stares back at me.
I push up and take apart my gun. “ You couldn ’ t be more wrong,” I smirk, jumping off of the car and tossing my bag inside my car.
Why do I do this to myself? Lay down on the roof of the car just like I did that terrible day, gun in hand, Mila filling the scope of my target.
We got so close to Mila and Dom, spotting their wrecked car ahead, but in the distance, we could tell that Dom had a weapon, so Titan pulled over before Dom spotted us. I grabbed my rifle, putting my Initiation 101 sniper training to use. I climbed onto the roof of the car, steadied myself, and aimed my gun at Dom.
I hesitated briefly, just a blink of an eye because I had no time to calculate my shot, no time to study the wind speed or select a particular bullet.
One blink was all I had to regulate my breathing.A single misstep in my breath could have sent the bullet toward Mila instead.
That late reaction was when Dom stabbed Mila. One blink, and I could have saved her from that pain.
I had the power to stop it, but I let the opportunity slip away.
I failed.
Yeah, I got Dom in the end, but…there was so much blood coming out of Mila ’ s stomach it overshadowed Dom ’ s death.
A deathly hue washed over Mila ’ s skin, a shade so pale only death would find it captivating. Lips of sallow pink against pale blue.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her face like that. Not the feisty little fox I met so long ago.
“ You need to talk to her.”
“ Oh, you and I both know that ’ s not a good idea.” I snort sinisterly. Entering the car, I settle into the driver ’ s seat.
“ You ’ re making it worse.”
The engine roars to life. I grip the wheel and declare, “ Or better.” Looking ahead, I spot Damian ’ s car pulled off to the side of the road.
Talking got me into this mess. I made a deal with Mila, then kissed her. I should have ignored her and my father ’ s request. Talking does nothing but provoke; fortune can smile upon you, or it can leave you broke. You never know.
“ You ’ re an ass.” Damian hits the car window.
Grinning, I say, “ I ’ ll see you tonight.” Then I speed off, leaving the scent of burning tires to fill his nose.
The only thing that keeps me focused is the fight ring Titan, Damian, and I joined. The same individuals from The Cleansing are involved, but this time, there ’ s no demand for death. An hour from Empire University lies a town where students escape to play the part of ordinary, rich kids, indulging in clubbing and partying. But underneath that nightclub is where those of us who can ’ t escape choose to fight instead.
Each weekend, I bash my knuckles till they crack and bleed, longing for the pain to touch my heart. The only thing I ’ m good at is piling more guilt into that dead organ that beats with no mission. It just thumps a burdensome reminder that I ’ m still alive, suffering, seeing Mila and my memories every goddamn day.