Page 88 of Break Me
I tighten my arms around her a little more. She can never fucking leave me. And I’ve definitely got to die first. Or maybe we’ll go together.
My eyes are closed, my nose against her hair, and she smells so damn good. She’s wearing a cami, pajama bottoms, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now. Maybe ever.
I hope she dealt with Dumont. Because if she didn’t…I will.
She graduates in two months. I’ve already decided to stay here until she’s done. Maybe then I can talk her into moving to Canada. But what about her dad? Is he going to need her?
Am I willing to stay here, a little longer? If that’s what it takes?
Am I fucking delusional?
How the fuck do I expect this to work?
Ava shifts in her sleep, turning to face me, her hands reaching out for mine. I take hers, and she sleeps on, her swollen eyes closed softly. I want to touch her face, tuck her hair behind her ear, but I don’t want to wake her. Because when she wakes up, she’ll remember it all over again.
It happened to me in prison.
Every night, I’d go to sleep in the hard cot, have dreams I could never remember, and wake up confused. Wondering where the fuck I was, and why. Every single night, the entire time I was in.
That’s how her grief will be.
She’ll lose her mom over and over again for a long, long time, every time she wakes. So I don’t touch her face, I just let her sleep.
In the morning, I’ll be here for her. And not just tomorrow. The day after, and the day after that one, too.
