Page 258 of Ruin Me Gently

She looked so scared.

And I was useless.

“I’m here,” I choked out, voice cracking, breaking under the weight of it. “I’m right here. Stay awake. Please. Please—”

But the blood wouldn’t stop. It poured out of her in impossible amounts, seeping through my fingers, pooling beneath her.

“SOMEONE, HELP!”

No one came.

No one was coming.

Her breath hitched, her body shuddering violently. “Si…”

I leaned in closer, desperate, helpless.

“I love you.” The words shivered out of her.

My stomach clenched. My entire body seized up. No. No. Please.

“I love you,” she whispered again, weaker this time, her lips trembling. “Always.”

Please. No.

Her hand was slipping, her grip loosening, body growing limp against me.

“No, Katie. Stay with me.”

Her eyes searched mine, desperate, begging for something. For me.

I couldn’t let her go—not like this. I swallowed the agony clawing its way through my chest, forced my lips to move, forced the words past the lump in my throat. “I love you too.”

It was a lie. But it was the only thing I could give her. It was my fault this had happened. I could at least give her that.

Her face softened slightly, and a tiny, broken breath left her lips, like she’d been waiting for that. Like it was enough.

I clutched her hands, squeezing them, willing her to stay. “I love you, Katie. Just hold on. Just stay with me.”

Her chest hitched—a shallow, broken gasp that barely made it past her lips.

Her body was giving up.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head as if I could force reality to bend. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay—”

But she wasn’t.

The warmth was draining from her skin, her body growing too cold, too fast.

It was happening. Her breath slowed, her fingers twitched one last time before going limp in my grip. Her chest, rising in frantic, uneven gasps only moments ago, started to still.

Tears broke free, hot, heavy drops spilling down my face, landing on her greying skin as I bent closer, pressing my forehead gently against hers.

“I’m here, I’m right here.”

But she wasn’t. Not anymore.

I felt her last exhale, soft and fleeting against my cheek, like a ghost of the life she had just an hour ago.

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