Page 80 of Carnival
I haven’t lived my life yet. I didn’t travel. I didn’t visit any of the places Aria and I made plans to visit. We wanted to buy a small cottage in the mountains of Norway to spend our winters there in the snow, isolated from the rest of the world. We wanted to spend a month in the summer going to the most exotic places, the prettiest beaches, and trying the most delicious food.
I don’t want to die before any of that happens.
“Rosalie,’’ James’ voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and my eyes lift up to meet his. He’s serious and stone-cold, but something akin to worry flashes behind the deep browns, but it’s gone before I can determine if it’s true or just a fragment of my imagination. “I swear it on my life, you will leave this mess unscathed.’’
“How can you say that?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “How can you guarantee that a stray bullet won’t pierce through my skull? How can you guarantee I won’t become just another collateral in the big game that Vivian’s playing?”
“Because I will not let it happen. If there’s a stray bullet, I’ll take it for you. If Vivian tries to make you collateral, I’ll offer myself instead. You. Will. Not. Die. Not now, not for many, many years. I didn’t get you back just to let you slip through my fingers again, hellion. Your life matters to me more than my own. You matter the most. My person. My fucking property. And no one touches what’s mine.’’
My heart skips a beat at the sheer, raw finality of his words. He isn’t just saying it for the sake of it being said — he means it. He would quite literally die in my stead to protect me from the monster that Vivian represents.
James doesn’t look away from me as he stands up, his movements swift as always. He closes the distance between us and takes a seat next to me. In the next moment, I’m pulled onto his lap, straddling him, facing him. His expression doesn’t give anything away, but the proximity is soothing.
Like a balm to all my wounds, his presence alone is enough to make me feel safe. His hands are on the small of my back, under the shirt. His callous fingers rub against my skin softly and gently, trying to reassure me. And God knows why, but it’s working.
“This doesn’t mean I’m forgiving you,’’ I mumble. “I hate you for lying to me. I hate you for not telling me about Willow sooner.’’
His eye twitches, a clear tell of his annoyance, but this time, he doesn’t voice it out. He takes a deep breath, calming himself down, and then one of his hands goes to brush through my wet hair, toying with one strand.
“I get it. I’m not expecting to be suddenly forgiven. But if I had told you during our first meeting, you wouldn’t have believed me, or you would’ve been in denial.’’
I scoff. “Yes, and then you ended up telling me at an even worse moment.’’
“And it didn’t help keep you away. You’re stubborn as fuck. Even when I refused to see you, you didn’t stop, did you?’’
“I had to see you. I had to get answers, James.’’
“Did you remember it?”
I take a shaky breath, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Combined with him stroking my hair and back, the tensionleaves my body, and I’m wrapped in the bubble of James’ presence. My eyes close, memories flashing behind them.
Of course I remembered it all.
The way Willow was begging for me to pull her out of the water, and the way I didn’t. I just stood by the shore, looking at her blankly. Something inside me snapped that day, and on some level, I thought she was just pretending she couldn’t swim. Yet, even when she was going under, finally tired of trying to get to the surface, I didn’t help her. I wanted her to die, and I killed her, all while watching.
Willow put me through hell.
It wasn’t just demeaning words or simple childish bullying. She’d hit me when no one was watching, she’d steal my food when her parents weren’t home, and if it hadn’t been for James to share his, I don’t know how long I’d have survived.
It all came back to me.
The way she’d slam my head against the wall, the way she tried to suffocate me in my sleep with a pillow on multiple occasions. My therapist says that I was just defending myself, and no matter how much I’d like to believe that, I can’t.
Because on the day I killed Willow, she never did anything to me.
She just came to stand next to me, and the mere sight of her made me snap. I pushed her into the deeper part of the lake, knowing that it would potentially be fatal. And it was. I killed someone — a teenager, and there are no excuses.
I’m a monster.
James wraps his arms around me tightly, holding me against his chest and allowing me to let it all out. My tears soak up hisshirt, and he doesn’t say anything. Despite not knowing what any of this feels like, he’s being good to me. He’s letting me cry it all out to try and feel better.
Even though I’ll never feel better.
I don’t deserve to get rid of the guilt that threatens to rip me from the inside. I don’t deserve to be forgiven for the heinous thing I did. I don’t deserve to have people in my corner, to have my family.
I’m sure one way or the other, I’ll get my karma.
And I’ll be waiting.
