Page 123 of My Lovely Tragedy
“Hmm?”
“Can you tell me why you were upset?” I shake my head against his shoulder as my finger picks at the chunky hem of his sweater.All of his sweaters are so soft. Like a cloud.
I wonder if he’ll ever let me wear one.
But I can’t because of my chains…
My chains.
My. Chains…
I jerk up, sending the top of my head cracking into the underside of Tobias’s jaw. It snaps with a loud crack that reverberates through the air as I scramble back, colliding into the arm of the couch with a grunt. My eyes are wide and blurry as I stare down at my hands against my thighs.
Wrists bare.
No chains.
Just bruises.
I blink, unseeing.Confused.
And then, the anger hits like a bolt of lightning. Striking fast and dangerous, scorching through my veins and causing my blood to boil with indignation.
With fuckingfury.
“What thefuckdid you do?!”
Tobias blinks at me, his face back to thatfucking mask.It just makes me angrier. I lash out, slamming my hands into his chest, sending him toppling backwards. He slams into the small table with a muted grunt, but after the momentum stills, he remains slumped. Back curved, hands splayed wide over the floor, chin to his heaving chest. Hair in terrible disarray—like he’s been running his fingers through the strands for hours. His glasses perched on the end of his nose.
And, for the first time, I don’t ache with the desire to push them back into place.
No, I want to rip them the rest of the way off and snap them in half, so heneverhas the pleasure of seeing me with clear vision again.
“What the hell did you do, Tobias?” I ask again, my voice surprisingly steady with the turmoil bubbling inside me. “Where are my chains?”
His eyes rove over me, slow and meticulous, but he’s back to avoiding my gaze, which bodes really fucking well. And then, he tilts his head in the direction of the fireplace. I follow the movement to the tangled heap of steel on the hearth.
I dance between that and Tobias, head moving so fast, I become dizzy. My stomach rolls, gurgling and coiled as perspiration blooms, beading across my forehead and down each knob of my spine.
“You—” I force air through my throat, scoring my nails over my flesh. “You need to say something.” His chest expands. Deflates slowly. Lips parting. “And don’t fucking lie to me,” I bite out.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”
“Stop!” I scream in a panic, yanking at my hair. “Stop.” Softer. “Just—what’shappening?I don’t like that you took them off. I told you I didn’t want you to.”
“Think, Brooklyn. You already know the answer.” My head’s whipping back and forth in denial before he’s finished speaking, even as his past voice echoesway too fucking loud.
‘Please just give me a little more time with you. A month, and then you can leave.’
A month…
It feltimpossibleat the time.
And now it’s here and… and…
My head stops shaking as I finish the thought out loud. “I’m not ready.”It hasn’t been a month already… It’s not possible.
A sigh. “Neither am I.”
