Page 54 of Dead Love
She turned and smiled at me. My heart stopped.
What was wrong with me?
“It’s sunlight,” I barked, louder than I had expected. “Not a fucking miracle,” I muttered.
“I haven’t seen or felt sunlight in who knows how long,” she said. She motioned at the sun. “You should try it.” I crossed my arms, but she came forward and pulled my hand. “It won’t hurt you.” I groaned, but let her yank me forward. “Isn’t it beautiful?” The light fell on my skin and my entire body radiated with fire, but my eyes were on her, twirling in the sunshine.
“Yes,” I said.
Her gaze found mine, and still, that smile painted her lips. A question formed on her face, pinching her thick eyebrows together.
“What is it?” she asked.
There was so much I wanted to tell her. To show her the world. Parts that she could never know. So much that she had shownme,proving that there was a lot that I didn’t understand either.
But I couldn’t.
I went past her and sat down on the wooden bench. She plopped down beside me, sighing with satisfaction. Bernie brought over a ball, and Ulysses whined at us, while Sarah barked instructions to them. Kora threw the ball, then the three of them rolled in the grass.
“There are two things you should know about me,” I said abruptly. Kora faced me, her lips pressed together, waiting. “My parents died when I was young. And my brother died a few years ago.” Her shoulders lifted in solace but I shook my head. “They say there are five stages of grief, but that’s wrong. There’s more than that. When you lose someone, your whole mind breaks loose. You show your worst, parts of yourself that you didn’t know existed. Like a part of you is missing. A gaping hole where you’d rather feelanythingthere, than nothing at all.”
She stared at me, her green eyes piercing and clear.
“I had no idea,” she said.
I sighed. “I’m trying to say that I know what it feels like. With Nyla.”
“How did your brother die?” She flushed at those words, then looked away. “Wow. Sorry. That was insensitive of me.”
“It’s not a big deal. It’s been years now.”
“What happened to him, then?”
I could have told her what the coroner’s report said and left it at that.Suicide.But it wasn’t that simple, and I had no compulsion to explain myself.
“Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“Do you have anyone else?”
I forced a laugh; she could figure out the answer on her own. “Death of a loved one can make you do crazy things,” I said, staring into her eyes. I wasn’t sure what I was talking about anymore. Sometimes, I wasn’t even sure thatIunderstood what love was, but I knew that the thought of killing Kora did something to me now. Made me feel insane. Unhinged. Not myself.
She squinted, tilting her body toward me. “And you said there are two things?”
I rubbed my forehead, piecing together the words. “Destruction. Transformation. Reaction. Whatever you want to call it: ruining things makes my blood pump.”
Her lips opened, her voice quiet: “Would you ever kill someone?”
I couldn’t help but smile. She was so innocent sometimes.
“Yes.”
She swallowed, her eyes focused on my lips. Before I could do anything stupid, like fucking kiss her, I excused myself, going back inside. I splashed water on my face, cursing myself for saying all of that unnecessary crap. When I returned, the bench was empty. I glanced down the hallway; the door to the studio was open.
Inside, Kora was in the middle of the room, looking around. My gut twisted and my shoulders tensed, but she gazed at me with that same courage that always simmered below the surface. The part of her she kept hidden like she had been taught to.
Her voice was breathless: “How long have you been painting me?”
Years.
