Page 141 of Loving the Liar

My eyes catch the blade he’s holding. “Give it back.”

It’s heading toward his stomach.

“What— Chris!” I’m brought back to reality like someone just threw a cold bucket of water.

He cut himself.

“Why do you do it?” he asks, his soft tone edged with torment. “When?” As he talks, he cuts himself again.

And again.

“I need to understand,” he explains, as if he can’t feel anything. “If I understand, I can stop it. Help me.”

I shake my head, a sob bursting out of my mouth. “I don’t understand it myself. Stop. Stop hurting yourself.”

“When do you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“When was the last time?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know,” I cry out, tears flowing down my cheeks and neck, wetting my chest as my hoarse voice keeps begging. “Please, stop.”

“No.” He does it again and blood drips down his abs. “If you hurt, I hurt. And if you bleed, I bleed.”

“You broke me. You broke us. Stop!” I shriek.

“You know nothing of why I did what I did… I had to.”

“No. You could have been honest. You could have…you could have…stop!” Another line that will scar appears on his stomach. I’m nauseous at the sight, my chest aching with desperation to stop this. Stop everything.

“Listen to me,” he says in a low, almost threatening voice. “You didn’t want me back, and I warned you. There is absolutely nothing, and I mean nothing I wouldn’t do to have you back.” And he cuts himself again. “I will bleed to within an inch of my life if I have to. I will ruin your entire future. I will drag you kicking and screaming, but what I won’t do is let you move on from me.”

He's panting now, his muscles flexing, his abs tensing as he’s about to cut another time. Stopping short, he looks down at me on the floor.

“If you hurt, I hurt,” he repeats in a calmer voice. Then he kneels in front of me and puts a hand on my cheek. “Why did you do this?”

“My life is falling apart,” I sob brokenly.

Wiping away my tears with his thumb, he brings his other hand to my face and repeats the process.

“Let me put it back together. Please. Please, I’m begging you. Let me pick up the pieces.”

“There are no pieces left, Chris. It’s all gone. There is nothing left to fix and it’s all your fault.”

“Then build a new life with me. Let’s build our own world. You be the sun, and I’ll bask in your light. Be the air, and I’ll breathe you in. Give me life, give me a purpose. Be my everything. I know…” He inhales a deep breath, taking everything in. “I know I want a lot. I know you’ll struggle to relinquish control, but I also know you could bloom into who you should really be. I’m no artist, no poet. I’m no painter who will depict you in a beautiful way. The only thing I can do is shape you into the goddess you are.”

He presses the back of my head, pulling me to his chest. “Breathe, Sweets. Breathe for me, please.”

It seems like an impossible thing to do. But then, with my ear pressed against his hot skin, I hear the sound of his heart. He takes another breath, and I sense it settling.

“Like me,” he says quietly. “Just like me.”

I follow the way his chest expands, holds, and depletes. I do the same, imitating him.

“Again.”

Inhale.

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