Page 103 of Come Back To Me

I’m not going to see Mads again. Not going to give her the life I promised her I would. I can’t be the man I swore I’d be.I’m sorry.So fucking sorry. Sorry for letting the angel who saw my chaos, believe she could help my demons seek peace. Who was I kidding? Who the fuck do I think I am?

I don’t need magic or miracles. I need my girl’s arms wrapped around me when the dark gets too much. I need her close to me, living for me. Holding on for the man she needs me to be. She’s mine. She always has been. Always will be.

I need to get home. But how?Don’t let fear and doubt get in your way.Fear and doubt? Fear anddoubt?Do I doubt myself? My ability to make it out of this? To make it out of here.

Holding my head in my hands, a million memories flash before me. The endless days I don’t remember all blur into one. But that’s exactly what they are. Memories. Not my present nor my future. My past.

The first day I truly saw a life worth having; a life worthliving, was the day I met her. I knew it then. And I know it now. With every ounce of me, I fucking know it. I see Mads’ face before me, and I know exactly how far I’ve come. Know exactly just how far I’ve managed to drag myself from my ruin, leading me to my home.

Running my hands over my stubble, my breathing settles, my body no longer trembling. What’s the point of saying sorry if nothing will change? Life can change. We can change.Ican change.

The smallest of smiles graces my face. I know what I have to do.

It’s a fine line; the one I’m treading. The line between need and want. Ineedto be quick. Need to get this done. The alternative is unimaginable. It leaves me only one option. One opportunity to ensure my future. Whether I’m in here or free, The Saint needs to die.

Back in my cell, I sniff, wiping the blood from my face with my hand. God knows how long I’ll have before The Saint sends someone to finish me. Lifting the corner of the flooring by our toilet, I pick up the razor blade Luke managed to get inside. That’s all I need.

My cell door pushes open, and I quickly curl my fingers to my palm. The sting is instant. The warm liquid slips between the cracks. I flush the loo, then step out from behind the partition.

“Carter.”

I pretend to rearrange my joggers.

The officer stands back, taking in my clothes. They’re still drenched in Luke’s blood having had no time to change.

“What the…” he starts, his hand moving to his belt that holds his baton and cuffs.

“It’s not my blood,” I say in a rush. “It’s Luke’s. I found him. He had an accident.” I reckon I’ve got thirty seconds before I’m tossed to the floor and restrained. I don’t move.

The officer withdraws his baton stepping into my cell, his eyes searching for Luke.

“He’s in the medical centre,” I quickly add.

With Luke’s absence, the officer clicks his radio. He asks for the medical unit. I’m saved when they confirm Luke’s there. He stows away his baton, stepping back for me to leave the cell.

“Where are we going?” I ask, aware my hand’s bleeding, the razor still firmly in my grasp.

“Visitor. You had him on the list.”

Travis. Right. I’d forgotten. “Can I wash my hands before I go?”

The officer still watches me closely, but he spies the blood.

With a nod, I offer him my thanks and step back behind the partition. I run the tap, simultaneously slipping the razor stealthily back in its place. When I stand, the cool stream of the water washes away my blood. I watch as it seeps down the plug, slipping away. Truth be told, I can’t feel it. Can’t feel the sting like I should. Only in my mind can the pain be felt.

If The Saint wants me dead, nothing will stop him. I let that play in my head until the officer steps into view, telling me to hurry up with a bang on the wall.

Drying my hands, I then follow him to the visitor room.

Travis sits waiting on the other side of the iron gate. When I see him, his eyes don’t widen as they scan over my clothes. Given no time to change, I resemble something straight out of ahorror movie. I don’t know what’s more worrying; the fact I’m covered in my cellmate’s blood, or that my best mate isn’t acting surprised.

I can’t help checking my surroundings, taking in who’s on shift as the bars clank open. There’re two officers, neither of which I’m in good standing with. Just my luck.

One of them holds my gaze, his icy stare puncturing mine. It’s unrelenting. Hard hitting. Deadly smug.Fuck. No doubt he already knows of The Saint’s plan to off me.

“Rough day?”

He has no idea. I give Travis a blank look as I step closer, aware that time appears to have closed in on me much quicker than expected. My window to carry out my final kill has vanished.

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