Page 30 of Warmer, Colder

Unrelenting, she shoves her fingertips back into my throat. What should be a jarring force is a mere tickle. It still proves effective. My heartbeat is a sudden kick to my chest that’s impossible to ignore. The power of it makes me choke up a gasping sob, rabid breaths shredding through my tight chest. With each drag of air, the room sharpens in clarity to the point that I have to clench my eyes shut against all the stimuli. It doesn’t stop the vicious onslaught of a headache.

Fighting against the acidic aftermath of my burnt throat, I force out the question I need answered. “Why?” The only response is silence. My room is empty. That should settle me,reassure that animalistic fear that’s risen up in me. But it does the opposite. I’ve been shoved back from the brink of death, and I don’t believe it was a kindness.

Chapter 12

Stasi

8 Days Dead

What. The.Fuck.Was. That.

Fear and anger clash dangerously within me, sparking and thrashing, two opposing forces competing for territory.

The audacity to try to off herself, to try to take away what’s mine, it’s incomprehensible. Simply unacceptable. Her fate belongs to me. I’ve been the one carefully shaping our paths so that they could cross again, I’ve been the one putting in the time and energy to show her that we belong together. And then she just…

She just tried to leave me.

And it’s that near abandonment that gives ground to the fear, my rage being overtaken by the horror of that unbearable outcome. The lack of control loosens the grip I’ve had on this situation. Becca could snip the threads that bind us at any minute. With her still alive, the tether of magic still connects me to her. But if she were to die, everything would become void, and then what? Then I never see her beautiful, treacherous face again? Then I never get to inhale the sickeningly sweet scent of her?

If she goes, then what becomes of me? I don’t belong in a world that doesn’t include her.

My lungs burn with the need to scream my discontent at the constant unfairness I bump up against. “What in the hell were you thinking?” My yell goes unnoticed even though I’m screaming right in her face. “You don’t get to choose to leave me. You’re not going to escape me that easily.”I won’t allow it.

Up until this, I’ve come and gone without notice. But tonight, shesawme. Shetalkedto me. She felt me, choked around my fingers, left her life in my hands.

And unlike her, I chose to save her. Of course I did.

Carefully climbing onto the edge of her bed, I wrap my arms tightly around my legs and stare unblinkingly at her shivering form, never taking my eyes off of her, even when she falls asleep. The uneven push and pull of her breathing is music to my straining ears as I search for any sign of seizing or a delayed death rattle. Instead, she whimpers, clutching at her stomach and groaning as she curls into herself more. But the worst of it is over. She’s going to have a hell of a fucking hangover for the next few days, but it’s not time for her to join me on the other side just yet.

My plans for revenge unravel—just a pause, I tell myself—as my world shrinks to the slow fall and rise of her chest, the quiver of her lips, her mere existence. Confident I’m not going to wake her, I settle in beside her, my head relaxing into the pillow, which envelopes me in a faint peach scent. It’s a small slice of the heaven I’ve been chasing for so long, just a few days ago this would have been everything, and despite my righteous fear and anger, a small part of me melts into gratitude and worship. After so many years of praying for exactly this, it’s almost impossible not to be completely disarmed.

The craving is dizzying with her so close. Cautiously, I grab a piece of her hair. It’s barely more than a whisper on my fingertips but holding onto this little piece of her is centering, soothing. With each gentle stroke, the raging beast within me isquieted for the first time since her birthday party. Her proximity is a lyre that lulls the anger and hurt to sleep.

Lying beside her in the dark with the few remaining little plastic stars glowing dimly above us is familiar, and comforting. This had always been my safe space. I fall into old habits, filling the silence like I used to while I hum the melody ofOnce Upon a December. As I wade through the somber chorus, one of the last times I slept here comes back to me.

“Don’t listen to her, okay, Ana.”

“Why not? She’s right.” Tears run down my face accompanied by poorly concealed sniffles.

“She’s not. Chleo just makes that stuff up because she’s jealous that I hang out with you instead of her.”

“I don’t get why; she’s so much cooler than me.”

“Because you’re my favorite person.” Ocean eyes meet mine and I see the whole world in them.

“Really?”

“Really.” With her arm around my waist, I was wanted. I was home.

Something crumples beneath the pillow, interrupting my trip down memory lane. Sliding my hand beneath her head, I find the culprit and pull it out from under her.

-I loved you, Atthis, years ago.-

And I love you still.

With every lie that slips through those velveteen lips.

Despite the veil of perfection that you and your truth hide behind.

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