Page 114 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
I killed his brother. And there’s no coming back from that.
How could anyone stay with the person who killed their twin?
You don’t.
You can’t.
That’s not how life works.
I have a sister, and if anyone ever hurt her, I wouldn’t forgive them in a million years, let alone love them.
I run down the narrow path that meanders through the woods behind the dorms, a route that’s etched into my memory.
My feet strike the damp earth, vision blurring as I move. I’m not thinking. I’m just running.
By the time I reach the academy’s car park, my lungs burn, my skin slick with a mix of rain and tears.
One of the academy’s chauffeurs stands beside a black sedan, the faint glow of a cigarette between his fingers.
“Keys,” I say, breathless, my voice shaking despite my best effort to steady it. “Please.”
He hesitates, only for a moment, then, perhaps seeing something in my face that warns him not to question it, places the keys in my hand without a word.
I don’t remember getting into the car.
I don’t remember turning the key.
All I know is the sound of the engine, a low roar, and the gates of St. Monarche´ vanishing in the rear view mirror.
I shouldn’t be driving. Not like this. With my hands shaking and my head a storm.
But I can’t stop. I can’t breathe inside those walls. I just need to get out… away from him.
Rain streaks across the windscreen, tears blurring my vision until the world becomes a smear of light and shadow.
My thoughts spiral, colliding with one another until there’s no sense left, only the ache in my chest and the pounding in my ears.
I realise I’m heading toward the port. Even if I despise the thought of going back home, anywhere feels better than here.
The road curves sharply ahead, the trees flashing past in a blur. My grip tightens on the wheel, knuckles white.
Then, a sudden glare spills around the bend, headlights slicing through the dark, blinding.
A car, overtaking on the blind curve, coming straight at me.
Instinct takes over. I hit the brakes hard, tyres screaming against the wet asphalt, but deep down I already know, it’s too late.
Tyres shriek, the metal grinds, and glass explodes. The world tips sideways and rolls, the noise deafening and endless until, suddenly, there’s silence.
I taste iron. The cold seeps in through the cracks.
Everything is spinning, then fading at the edges.
In the quiet, my thoughts reach for him, unbidden and inevitable.
“Arlo,” I whisper.
It’s the last thing I remember before the world falls away.
