Page 9 of Beautifully Shattered
“How about when I came back and found you out in the storm?” My voice softens as I see a glimpse of the girl that I first met. “You fucking ran to me, Abbey. You were as desperate to be in my arms as I was to have you in them. There’s nothing fake about that. Not a single fucking thing.”
“I don’t snore,” she whispers, and my lip kicks up at one corner.
“You do. And it’s fucking adorable.”
She shakes her head, her eyes dropping to her fidgeting hands.
“I’m angry,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“I want everyone to hurt,” she admits quietly.
“I know, Angel.”
Her caramel eyes flick back up to mine, wounded and raw. “How can you love me when I’m so nasty to you?”
Shifting forward, I take her hand in mine, half expecting her to pull away. But she doesn’t. That alone nearly knocks the wind out of me.
“Because I know you don’t really mean it. What you’re feeling… it’s natural. Wanting someone to pay? That’s normal.”
She shakes her head slowly. “I wanteveryoneto pay. I want to grab a flamethrower and burn the entire world down until there’s nothing but ash.”
I nod, becausefuck,I remember that. I remember being so full of fire I could have destroyed cities.
“In time, that rage will redirect to just those who actually deserve it.”
She considers that for a few long beats, gnawing on her lip while she thinks.
“What do I do with the anger until that happens?” she asks, her caramel eyes wide and wrecked, like she’s drowning, and she doesn’t even care.
Fuck.
What I would do to carry her suffering for her.
“You need an outlet.” I hold my arms out again. “Use me as your punching bag all you like.”
Rolling her eyes, she falls back onto her pillow with a sigh. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Why the fuck not?”
We stare at each other for a long, loaded moment before she finally answers.
“I don’t really want to hurt you.”
Fuck. Hearing that is a fucking relief.
I’d been bracing for the worst, thinking maybe I’d already lost her. But perhaps not.
“I know, Angel.”
Her tears finally spill over, sliding down her temples and into her hair as she stares up at the ceiling, her hands pressed to her chest.
It takes me a moment, but then I realise… the way her fingers curl like she is holding something fragile… like she’s holding Bobbi again. Just like she did in that pine forest. Only this time, Bobbi isn’t here. She’s holding nothing but a ghost.
“I think…” she chokes out, her voice barely there, “I think I’m angriest at myself.” Her eyes flick back to mine, wet and full of unimaginable pain. “I wasn’t strong enough to protect Bobbi.”
Her hands fall to her sides, releasing something that was never really there.
