Page 31 of Pretty When He Bleeds

The noose was tight around his neck, his body swaying slightly, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. His face… God, I’ll never forget his face. The light in his eyes was gone, replaced by something hollow and still.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. I just stood there, staring, the air punched out of my lungs.

The next thing I remember is climbing back out of the window, my hands trembling so badly I nearly fell. I don’t even know how I made it home or how I managed to crawl back into my own bed without screaming.

But when I sat there staring at my hands, I realized they were clean. No blood, no dirt, no nothing.

That’s when it hit me that I didn’t try to help him. I didn’t cut him down.

I just…left.

I didn’t even see the signs; I had no idea he was going to do that or even felt suicidal. His fucking last text was “SEE YOU TOMORROW, BABE,” so what the fuck was I supposed to think?! He was always happy, I knew him better than anyone, so why the fuck did he leave? Why did he leaveme?

A dry sob escapes me as I sit on my bed with my phone still on the mattress beside me. The weight of it all crashes down again, just like it does every time I let myself think about that night.

I didn’t save him. And now, here I am, kissing his brother like the biggest piece of shit on the planet.

I press my palms to my eyes, trying to block out the images, the memories, and the guilt that never fucking goes away. No matter how much time passes, I’ll never stop hearing Caleb’s voice. I’ll never stop seeing his face.

And I’ll never forgive myself for leaving him there.

“What would you say if you could see me now?” I ask, my voice shaking. “What would you think of me?”

Tears blur my vision, and I blink them away, but it’s no use. They spill over, hot and heavy, as the guilt finally breaks through. Because how do I even begin to justify this? Kissing Damon when Caleb was my first love, my anchor, the one person who made me feel like I wasn’t completely fucked up.

The only person who knew what my dad put me through for years.

“Why did you leave me, Cay? What did I do wrong?”

But he’s not here. He hasn’t been for years. And no matter how many times I ask, no matter how many tears I cry, he’s never going to answer.

“I miss you,” I whisper, my breath hitching. “I miss you so fucking much.”

The tears come harder now, unstoppable, and I don’t even try to fight them. I let them come, let the grief and guilt and confusion pour out of me until I’m shaking, my chest aching like it’s been ripped open.

Because no matter how much time passes, no matter how hard I try to move on, Caleb’s still here—in my head, in my heart, in every fucked-up decision I make.

And now, Damon’s here too.

I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t even like him.

But I do.

And that scares me more than anything.

Roman

Mondayhitslikeafucking truck.

The alarm goes off way too early, and I drag myself out of bed feeling like I’ve barely slept. Probably because I haven’t. I spent all night staring at the ceiling, trying to will away the flashes of memories: Caleb and Damon. Damon and Caleb.

Killian’s already in the kitchen by the time I shuffle downstairs, making his usual protein shake. He glances up as I walk in, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as he looks me over, his gaze lingering on the marks on my neck but he doesn’t say anything about them.

“You look like shit,” he remarks as he takes a sip from his blender bottle.

“Thanks,” I mutter and grab a banana from the counter.

He doesn’t push it, just watches me for a second before returning to his shake. That’s the thing about Killian—he knows when to pry and when to back off. Today, thankfully, he’s chosen the latter.

---