Page 146 of Ruin Me Gently

She’d been hurt because of me.

And now, I couldn’t fix her.

I let outa slow breath, scrubbing a hand down my face. My body ached, exhaustion creeping into my bones. I hadn’t slept—not really. I’d barely eaten either. Only when I’d managed to getherto eat, and even then, it wasn’t much.

She shifted beside me. For a second, I thought she was going to speak. Instead, she moved, pushing herself up from the couch with a hiss and a grimace.

“I’m going to bed,” she said softly.

The second the bedroom door shut behind her, my eyes burned.

I’d cried more times this week than I could count. Silent, helpless tears in the dark. Angrier ones behind locked doors. Some I hadn’t even realised were coming until it was too late.

I forced a deep breath. I hadn’t left the penthouse all week. Obviously. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I’d texted Finn, told him I was sick, some bullshit excuse about being knocked out with a fever. He hadn’t questioned it—just told me to let him know when I was feeling human again.

And now?

Now I was sitting in my own home, staring at the closed door where Lilith was sleeping, with no idea what I was supposed to do.

The pressure in my chest started slow. A creeping, constricting tightness that I tried to breathe through, tried to shake off.

ButI couldn’t stop picturing her curled in on herself, bloodied, damaged.

The blood—fuck, the blood—staining her fingers, smeared along the concrete, glistening under the moonlight.

I gripped the edge of the couch, fingers digging in like it was the only thing keeping me here, keeping me grounded, keeping me from falling apart entirely.

Breathe.

I couldn’t.

Fuck,I’d done this.

A ragged, fractured sound escaped my throat. I clenched my fists, squeezing my eyes shut.

Breathe.

I shot up from the couch so fast my vision blurred, pulse hammering against my ribs, breath coming too shallow, too fast.

I needed to move. Pacing. I could do that.

My hands shook as I dragged them through my hair, fingers tangling in the strands, gripping hard like that might ground me, like it might stop the rush of images slamming into my skull over and over again.

The concrete. The blood. The bruises. The emptiness in her eyes.

I wiped at my face, but it was useless. The tears came hot and unrelenting, slipping down my cheeks before I could stop them.

I hadn’t cried this much inyears.Hell, maybe not even back then. Not even when—

I pressed the back of my fist against my mouth, my shoulders shaking, body betraying me. I kept pacing, back and forth, back and forth, because stopping meant feeling it fully, and I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t.

My heart was pounding so fast, too fast, slamming against my ribs like it was trying to break free.

Is this what a heart attack feels like?

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