Page 52 of My Lovely Tragedy
I shake my head, disbelief already filling my veins.Lies.
All fucking lies.
“All I need is a little time.”
“You’ve hadenough!” I scream with every last ounce of breath, strength,hurt,and then, I whirl around, beelining for the trees. I can’t feel my feet beneath me, or the snow, or even the cold.
Just my heart. Hammering, slamming against my sternum as I disappear between the pines. Their needles scrape against my bare skin, sticky and cold. Darkness envelops me, cracks of bright moonlight finding its way between in flashes.
I weave around, arms swishing, feet dragging.
I feel myself starting to slow, the cold, the numbness, all working against me, sealing me in a fate I can’t be trapped in.
A crunch. The scratch of fabric.
Heavy breaths mimicking my own.
My molars snap and grind, tears turning to ice against my cheeks. Hair whips in front of my eyes, and they close a little further.
So, so cold.
It hurts to breathe, to move.
To live like this.
Don’t give up. Not yet,a small, insignificant voice chimes in the back of my mind. And it’s tempting but not as enticing as the warmth of Tobias’s arms as he swarms me, my head cradled in the palm of his hand.
Why am I even running? He wouldn’t hurt me… and I… I believe him.
Arms encircle my waist, sending me launching forward into the snow. My face sinks into the crystals, nostrils filling, mouth gaping. Ice and chaos and zephyr.
A hand in my hair yanks my head up, grip brutal, but only with the intention of giving me breath.
My entire torso burns with the pressure of being trapped, Tobias’s weight keeping me pinned, the snow a blanket of certain death beneath me.
Cold, wind-chapped lips graze the shell of my ear, breath so fucking hot, itburns.
I welcome the heat. Find sinister solace in it.
Fingers wrap around my throat, tips and blunt nails digging in on either side. It doesn’t take long for black to lick around the edges of my vision, my Adam’s apple pressed down by his palm, but not enough to hurt.
My lungs shrivel, heart thrashing.
Ice at my front, an inferno at my back, impossible not to melt into.
I’m swathed in pine and vanilla and black honey.
Clogging and choking and rapturous.
“Please forgive me.”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
TOBIAS
I placemy palm against my chest to feel the erratic thrashing of my heart against my flesh, vibrating my blood, making itsing.
I’m dizzy with it.
