Page 185 of Poison Aches

“It doesn’t matter, Emmett, listen to me. We don’t have much time,” she croaks, her eyes wide and full of tears.

Her urgency.

Her tears.

Her bleeding hand.

Just then, the Heavens open up and it starts pouring. Raindrops beat down on us so hard, I feel the slight pain. I look at the girl and realize that if I can feel the slight pain, then she can’t stand it.

I also eye her hair. Ivy hates being caught in the rain or going swimming without protecting her hair.

Grabbing her hand, I start running, leading her to the largest tree in the park.

Common sense would say not to stand under a tree when there’s a high chance we might be electrocuted to kingdom come, but I’m not thinking clearly right now.

In fact, I’m bothered.

Not by the pain in my body, or by the straining of the sick thing in my chest or by the weather… I’m bothered by this crying girl.

I remove my hoodie.

“This is a thunderstorm,” she whispers while looking around. “We need to get out of here.”

I pull her closer by her waist, noticing some changes. “You started wearing a bra.”

Her eyes grow as wide as saucers, then her mouth drops open.

“What? How did you…”

“You’ve always wanted to wear a bra. Are you happy about that or did you stuff tissues again?”

“Emmett!”

“You’re the only girl in your class that hasn’t started her period yet.”

“Jesus Christ… how do you know that?” she squeals, looking mortified that I know.

I’ve read her diary. I even have a copy in my room.

I should sneak back into her room and check for new entries from the last few months.

“I know everything about you… and I know you hate it when people treat you like an orphan when you believe your parents are out there, but news flash, Ivy, if they are still alive but not inyourlife then it means they don’t want you!”

She gasps and steps back, her eyes narrowing, but her lips keep on quivering.

“You’re wrong!”

“You’ll know soon enough,” I grit out. Am I being too harsh with her, maybe, but I’d rather she reduce her astronomical fantasies down to reality. After all, who will protect her from the harsh truth after I’m gone? Her wearing a bra now means she needs to hear this and I’ll be damned if her stupid curiosity keeps acting up. “They abandoned you. They left you. They never came back for you! Stop crying over that.”

“No, no, no, stop talking!” she cries. “They want me. They just… couldn’t raise me themselves, so they left me with Grammy.”

I eye her. Her mouth is spewing denial, but in her eyes, it’s like she’s fighting hard to keep the candle of hope burning.

“Why are you saying this to me?” she whispers.

“Because you’re wearing a bra,” I mutter right back, watching the play of emotions flash in her eyes.

“Oh, and that means I’m old enough to hear that?”

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