Page 74 of Boy of Ruin
I always pushed my dresser in front of the door too.
I held her down. Sat on top of her.
Pinned her little wrists over her head.
Then, to make her forget, to help her forgive me, I read her stories from the used books Mom gave us, some with pages missing, covers ripped off.
It didn’t matter.
If the page was gone, I’d make it up.
Sid’s breathing would even out, and after a few stories, she’d fall asleep in my arms, under those covers.
I’d kiss her hair.
Hold her tight.
Dread the morning, knowing she’d try to run again, and I’d have to start all over, trying to keep her with me.
Keep her safe.
If I only knew then what I know now, I would’ve run with her. Ran so fucking far, no one could find us. No one would catch us.
No one would fucking hurt us.
I swallow, hard, open my eyes and take in the well-lit, airy bedroom of the cabin. The curtains are pulled away from the balcony, sun streaming in, trees and blue sky beyond it. I hear soft murmurs downstairs, and I marvel at the fact I slept so well.
Was it tasting my sister’s pain last night that did it?
Listening to her soft cries in the car ride home?
Knowing she was letting him go?
A slow smile curves my lips as I move my hand from my ribs, flip my palm and glance at the scars along my wrist.
Lucifer Malikov would never do what I did for her.
And when she’s with me, I don’t think about how many times I’ve wanted to die in my life.
Mainly because she was away from me.
Never again.
And I won’t have to hurt myself again.
The thing people don’t tell you about suicide attempts?
They don’t tell you about the fucking flinch.
That moment when the blood is pouring from your wrists, or you’re drifting into oblivion, and you should feel peace. You should feel happiness, knowing the end is coming. So close, you can taste it. Feel it. Almost sink right into it. They don’t tell you that is the exact moment you fucking regret it.
The exact moment you want to die because you don’t want to fucking die.
You want to kill yourself because you were so fucking stupid.
And when I lost consciousness in that tub, in a shitty hotel room in the middle of nowhere, all I could think about was her.
About how I couldn’t protect her if I was a fucking rotting corpse.
