Page 71 of Mud

“Did you cry tears of joy when they took me away?” His thumbs came up and wiped my tears while more came, and I shook and shook and a whimper or two slipped out of me, too. “You’ve always looked beautiful when you cried. Tears become you.” I barely saw him bring histhumb to his mouth and lick my tears off it, then grin wickedly.

I didn’t want to,I wanted to tell him.

There was so much I was hiding, so many secrets…I couldn’t tell you the truth.

You wouldn’t have listened. I was afraid you wouldn’t have believed me.

Please, believe me now!

Of course, I kept my mouth shut. What would be the point even if I wanted to tell him the whole truth now? If he even let me speak—which he wouldn’t—he’d never believe me for real. I was a liar, but I was the worst kind of liar there is because I was also a coward.

And now he knew it.

“Tasty,” Taland said, letting go of my face. “They’re going to be back here any minute now. I’m afraid they’re not done with you yet.”

A cry escaped my lips.Please,I wanted to say—yearned to say it, but it wasn’t because of what was coming for me—his brothers, apparently. They still had a score to settle with me.

No, the pleading was for that look in his eyes—of disgust and hatred.Please don’t hate me.

I was something awful and twisted, indeed.

“You’re Mud.”

How in the world I was still conscious was a good question. I blinked the tears away and tried to focus on his smiling face.

“How’s that for karma?” And Taland laughed.

He laughed his heart out, and it was dark and deep and terrifying. This wasnotthe Taland I knew.

“No,” I whispered to myself for no reason other than totry todenythis reality. To deny this night, this morning, this day. All of it—deny!

Except that’s not how reality works, is it?

“Oh, yes,” Taland said, his smile spreading, his teeth showing, transforming his face completely, bringing it so close to the boy he was when we first met.

Then…

“You betrayed me, sweetness.”

His whisper was low this time, barely there. His smile remained but his eyes…oh, his eyes spoke volumes. His eyes told me a whole other story—the true story. His eyes told me about his pain, and it fucking matched my own.

I didn’t—but I did.

I was trying to save you—but I didn’t.

Life’s funny like that, I guess.

And his pain was gone just as fast as it reflected in those dark eyes that wanted you to think they were black but weren’t. They were an ashy brown around the iris that somehow melted into a rich, deep whiskey on the outer edges, and it worked. Fuck the colors of the rainbow—thesewere perfection. The rest of him might have become a different Taland completely but those colors were still the same. Exactly the same as the last time I was this close to him.

Back when I could reach out my hand and touch him.

When I could lay in his arms and call for him at any second and count on him for every little thing.

Back when life was beautiful—those short months. And it sucked to be reminded that none of it had been real, not for either one of us. Our secrets had been too dark, too deep.

Look at us now.

“Did she order them to shoot you?” Taland then asked, looking down at my leg.

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