Page 140 of Goldsin

His body quivers, and I know I’m running out of time.

He’s too heavy—I can’t carry him out of here. But I also can’t leave him here alone while I call for help. What if he dies while I’m away? I can’t let him die alone in this cold room.

“Adrian.” I caress his cheek. I need to distract him. “Do you remember the time you made fun of me because I didn’t know how to ride a bike?”

I swallow down the lump in my throat, brushing away my tears with the back of my hand before they fall on him and force a reassuring smile.

He coughs. “You ... you were sixteen.”

Warmth spreads in my chest at hearing his voice. “And you were such an ass.”

His mouth curves into a lopsided grin, and I lie to myself that we aren’t on the floor of an unknown apartment as his last breaths heave out of him. Instead Ipretend we’re at our favorite Italian restaurant, making fun of the tourists as they share plates of spaghetti and meatballs.

I lie to myself and think of those years when I didn’t hate spending time with him. When he gave me the love I sought, even though I knew in the back of my mind he didn’t truly love me.

I lie to myself and think of the first night we slept together, and how gentle he was with me. How gentle he always was with me before the final two years, when I couldn’t live with the thought he was trapped with me anymore.

Blood bubbles out of his mouth, and I’m brought back to the present.

“Tell me what happened. Can you tell me who did this to you?” I murmur.

If I can’t save him, maybe I can exact my revenge the only way I know how.

My vision blurs with tears as I watch him fight to speak through the blood seeping from his mouth. I desperately wipe it away.

“It’s all right. I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. Don’t force yourself.”

But he doesn’t listen to me.

His gaze falls to my right and remains there until I see the gun lying there. Then he turns to me and chokes out, “T-take it a-and l-leave.”

The hairs on my arms prickle at his warning. “I can’t leave you.”

“You’ll d-die.” He chokes on his blood, spitting more of it out. “You a-are nex?—”

A whisper of breath leaves his mouth, and he closes his eyes.

“Adrian . . .” I whisper.

“Adrian?” I scream.

“Adrian!” I shake his body, a sob rising in my throat, but he remains still, his body slack.

No.

An ache pushes against my heart as sobs rock my chest. I stroke his cheeks, soaking up the warmth still radiating from his dead body.

“I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t save him. I should have saved him.

“I’m sorry.” My voice wobbles as I lean down and kiss his cheek.

My lips tingle, and I brush my fingertips over them.

He didn’t shave this morning.

And he won’t tomorrow.

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