Page 2 of A Forgotten Promise

But I’m not concerned about it. My heart aches with the betrayal. Arielle has been my friend since we were six years old.

She was. Until today.

I turn to my side. My bones meet with the unyielding firmness of the marble. The coldness wraps around me, penetrating.

I grip my wrist and run my thumb over the cut, the warmth of my blood almost comforting on the uncomfortable floor.

The cut is on the ball of my palm. Just above my wrist. Jesus, how would this look like if someone came in?

Perhaps they would think I tried… Would they, though?Clumsy as usual… I can almost hear my mother’s voice in my head.

Fuck them. Fuck them all. Especially Arielle.

“Saar?”

My brother’s voice startles me, but I don’t move. It feels like an impossible mission. Lying here, away from the world, is uncomfortably comforting.

Being alone is what I know. It might not be welcomed, but it’s familiar. And now, with Arielle out of the picture, it’s my destiny.

I trusted her.

I stupidly trusted her.

A knock on the door makes me turn my head. “Saar, are you there? Mom is pissed, and looking for you,” Finn says.

Shit, I promised to accompany Mother to some fundraiser. Or rather, she ordered me to join her. I’m sure it’s because one of her friend’s daughters was coming. Nobody outshines Melody van den Linden.

Forgetting about the cut, I push up to sit and whimper.

“Saar? What’s going on—” Finn barges in and freezes. “Fuck.” He drops to his knees, grabbing my hand.

“Ouch.” I pull it away from him.

“What have you done, Bambi?”

He looks from my hand to the shards, and I know what he must be thinking, but the lump in my throat is too thick to talk. I don’t even berate him for the stupid nickname.

His eyes pierce through me. Questioning? Pitying? Worrying? Or all of the above, but for the first time in my life, it feels like he sees me. Like he sees my pain. Like he cares.

His attention coils around my ribs, squeezing at my heart. The lump in my throat grows painfully. And in the absence of my best—former—friend, it sets me off, and I let out a sob.

Finn quickly inspects my hand and then the rest of my body. “What happened?”

No longer the accusatorywhat have you done, but rather a concernedwhat happened. Another sob shudders through me as he lifts me and sits me on the edge of the tub.

He rinses my hand and wraps it in a hand towel. He scoops me up again and carries me out.

“I’ll take care of the mess,” he says, his eyes darting to the no-longer-white rug. “Are you okay, Saar?”

And there it is again, a genuine concern. He even omits his stupid nickname and uses my real name—something he hasn’t done in ages.

It all swirls inside me, and the dam breaks. I bawl, burying my head in the crook of his neck.

I try to talk, but among the sobs, I hardly make any sense. “A dance… I shouldn’t have… I believed her… Corm… and now…” Even I don’t understand my incoherent word vomit.

“Corm? Cormac Quinn? What the fuck did he do to you?”

That’s what he got from it? I need to explain, but just the mere mention of Corm’s name causes another wave of tears.

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