Page 163 of Dare To Fall

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She leads me upstairs to my room, makes no comment on the beer bottles and joints littering the floor and walks into my bathroom. I let her wash the blood from my hands.

I bite back a bitter laugh. All I ever see is blood on my hands. Kellan’s blood. It’s stained my skin, my soul. I’ll never not see his blood.

When she’s done, she takes my hand and we walk back into my bedroom. “Do you need anything?”

“Kellan’s letter.”

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you sure you want that now?”

I hold out my hand. She stares at me for a moment longer, then reaches into her pocket and takes out the envelope.

I take it from her, turn, and sit on my bed. As she moves toward the door, I lift my head.

“Stay?”

She sinks onto the bed beside me.

Tearing open the envelope, I pull out the sheet of paper. The sight of Kellan’s bold handwriting sends a sharp stab of pain through the ever-present numbness. I shove it away and focus on the words.

Eli,

If you’re reading this, then I’m dead.

**cue dramatic pause here** ←- I’ve always wanted to write a letter with that opening. I’m not sitting here cracking up over it!

But seriously, if you’re reading this note written by my eighteen-year-old self, then I died young like I predicted, and it was before I fell in love, got married, etc., blah blah. That means you get everything. Everything important anyway. I know you don’t care about the money. At least, not at this point in time. But I want you to have it, anyway, even if this isn’t the final letter and I live longer because I don’t do something stupid which ends my life. Which, let’s be honest, isn’t going to happen because if you’re not around to talk me out of it, I do stupid shit all the time. Even then, this part of my will won’t change. You’re the closest thing to family I have. Forget the fuckers who stick around because they want what I have. You stick around because of who I am.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. My eighteen-year-old self wants you to know that I love you. Not in the want to get in your pants and fuck your delicious, crazy brains out kind of love. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not my type. Too broody. I try to stop you from getting stuck inside your own head, but I’m no longer here to do that, so I need you to hear this.

Find someone who gets you, Eli. Someone who sees beyond the monster you think you have to be. Someone who isn’t scared of your snapping and snarling.

Someone just like me, in fact.

But with girl parts.

Love you, my beautiful monster.

Kellan

The sheet drops from my hand to the floor, and I close my eyes. Warm fingers touch my cheek.

“Are you okay?”

I shake my head.

“Do you want to talk?”

Another headshake.

“What can I do?”

I force my eyes to open and look at her.

“I think I’m broken, Ari,” I whisper. “I don’t feel anything. I should be sad, right? Or angry. I should have felt something when I hit Jace. But there was nothing there. Just a fucking great big nothing.”

The fingers on my cheek move to stroke along my jaw. “It’s going to take time, that’s all.” Her palm cups my cheek and forces my head around to face her. “Let me help you.”

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