Page 2 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

It could rip me apart for all I care. As long as I take my chunk of flesh before they finish me off.

This town turned the entire Pierson family into a ghost story—a haunted tale, a fucking plague—and made sure everyone who would listen knew how evil they all were.

Now they stand here in mourning? They show up and disrespect the dead?

“I’m well aware of what you’re capable of.”

“Then I think you should let go of me,” I say through gritted teeth. I don’t want to hurt Alistair, but I also don’t want him to coddle me either.

“I know you’re hurting, and you want to make everyone else hurt too,” he breathes. “I know what that feels like, Lyra. But you can’t right now.”

My molars grind against one another. “That’s supposed to make it better? I’m just supposed to stand here and what? Do nothing? That’s all we have been doing, and look how that turned out for us, Alistair.”

Caldwell’s eyebrows twitch, his mouth twisting slightly, and I can see the pain in his eyes. If I was thinking rationally, I’d be aware that what happened wasn’t his fault. I would have maybe hugged him and supported him because he’d lost pieces of himself too.

But I was empty. I am empty.

This hollow, dark space that allows no light or air. So I compensate by shoving anger into that bottomless pit inside of me just to feel anything other than this constant ache.

The ache of losing him is brutal.

I don’t miss him, the way you miss a pair of shoes that you grew out of, a memory of a glowing summer, or even a pet you’d lost. I do not miss him.

He is missingfromme.

A vital organ torn from my gut. A severed limb.

Thatcher’s memory was what I clung to every single second when I was passed around from different foster homes and orphanages. I held on to the boy who made me feel less alone on a night when everything had been taken from me. When I had absolutely nothing, I had him for that short, brief time. He was it. That was all I had—how could no one understand that?

I held on to him through school, the little pieces I’d gathered watching him all these years. Tightened my grip on the person who made me feel human. Seen. Safe.

My heart and soul were never mine. They had always been his, and now they belong to no one. They are lost, forgotten, alone.

I tethered myself to him, and now he’s just…gone.

He is gone, and his memory isn’t enough.

Yet, it feels like all I have left.

“You’re always allowed to do something, Lyra. I just don’t need you stabbing someone in the eye at a public funeral. That’s the last thing you need right now.”

Words I don’t mean but can’t keep down spurt from my mouth before I have a chance to stop them.

“Stop acting like you fucking care about me.” I look at him, meeting his dark eyes. “I’m Briar’s friend. You’re only doing this for her benefit, and frankly, I don’t need you protecting me. Remember what happened last time you told me I’d be safe? I almost died.”

This time, I do remove my arm from his grasp, probably because he let me, but I’m free from his control either way. I’ve never spoken to him like this. I’ve never spoken to anyone this way before.

But I don’t regret it. Not when all this bitterness has consumed every ounce of kindness that once lived inside of me.

“Fine.” He scoffs, shoving his hands in his jacket. “Then how about this. If you do anything fucking stupid at this funeral and put Briar at risk, I will show you just how little I care about what happens to you.”

I’d been waiting for him to bite, knowing I could only poke at Alistair Caldwell so long before he snapped back.

The sting of his words doesn’t land as hard as I expected they would. The numbness is the likely cause, or maybe it’s because I knew from the start that was our relationship.

“Fine,” I agree.

The snow begins to fall in a heavy flurry, and I watch as guests pile into their cars, seeking warmth. The show has come to an end, leaving only a few people lingering in the Pierson family cemetery.

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