Page 42 of Twisted Love

“Get down,” he orders, his tone clipped and hard.

For a moment, I can’t move. My hands grip the branch tighter, tears still cling to my lashes. I stare down at him. All the anger, the pain, the longing I’ve tried so hard to bury swirls inside me like a hurricane.

“No,” I say defiantly. “Not unless you come up here and help me find it.”

CHAPTER26

EARL

“Find what?” I ask sharply, staring up at her. She’s perched on a branch like some stubborn bird refusing to come down. “Come down before you hurt yourself.”

She shakes her head. “What do you care?” she throws back at me and leans back against the tree trunk.

“Fuck this,” I mutter. What an infuriating brat she has turned out to be. I turn on my heel and start walking away. Let her stay up there. Let her stew in her own ridiculousness. But as I take a few steps, a knot tightens in my chest. One slip, one misstep, and she’ll fall. She’ll break something. Worse.

I curse under my breath and spin around on my heel. Damn her. And damn me for caring.

When I reach the base of the tree again, I grab onto the nearest branch and hoist myself up.

“Right. What the fuck are you looking for, Raven? Are you insane?” My voice rises as I climb higher, each word laced with exasperation.

She doesn’t even look at me. Her focus is fixed on something near the tree trunk, her gaze wide and filled with wonder? It stops me in my tracks, mid-climb. For a moment, the morning sunlight catches her face, illuminating an expression I haven’t seen in years—pure, unfiltered joy.

“Look,” she whispers, her voice trembling but full of something I can’t quite place. “I found it. I found us.”

I follow her gaze, and there it is. Carved into the bark, weathered but unmistakable—our names, enclosed in a heart. The memory crashes into me like a wave. I can still feel the knife in my hand, the bark giving way as I carved it out for her all those years ago. Back then, it had felt permanent, unbreakable. Back then, I had believed in forever.

Now? Now it feels like a sick joke.

Before I can stop myself, I reach into my pocket and pull out the penknife I always carry. I flick it open, and slash the gleaming blade across the carving of my name. The letters splinter, the grooves disappearing into jagged scratches.

“What are you doing?” she cries with shock.

But I keep hacking, the motion mechanical, driven by something I can’t control. Her protests blur together, and it’s not until I hear her scream that I finally stop.

“Stop!” she yells, her voice shaking with fury and something deeper. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She lunges towards me, almost loses her balance, and has to grip the branch she is sitting on so tightly her knuckles show white. Tears glisten in her eyes, and I realize just how close she was to falling. The craziness of what I’ve done sinks in. Christ. I’m going mad. She’s driven me insane.

“You’re going to fall,” I snap, reaching out to catch her.

But she jerks away from my touch, her body swaying precariously. “You’re the one doing this!” she shouts, her voice raw. “You’re the one ruining everything!”

“Raven,” I say, my tone low but firm. “Stop before you fall and break your neck.”

She glares at me, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing with anger. For a moment, it’s a standoff—her defiance against my frustration and anxiety. But then, she shifts her weight, her movements careful and fearful. She starts climbing down the other side of the trunk. I don’t move at all so I don’t spook her. Every muscle of my body is tense with worry. Only when her feet finally touch the ground do I climb down myself.

I step onto solid ground and see that she’s already storming off, her shoulders squared, her stride quick and purposeful.

“Raven,” I call after her, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even look back.

With a sigh I close the penknife and shove it back into my pocket. I don’t know whether to feel regret or relief at this moment, but one thing I do know is that I feel immense sadness. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I’ve become a monster. Worse than Charles. I start walking towards the house.

Suddenly, she stops mid-stomp and then turns around to glare at me. I wait, wondering what kind of lunacy she is going to exhibit this time around. Angrily, she marches back toward me, and then with both of her hands against my chest, she pushes hard at me. Her strength is pathetic, so it barely moves me, but it does, however, alleviate some of my annoyance.

“What is your problem?” she demands, her voice trembling with fury. “Why do you hate me so much?”

The familiar burn of anger is instant. It is far greater than hers .“Why do I hate you?” I echo, my voice cold. “You really want to know?”

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