Page 92 of House of Crimson Kisses
And over.
And over again.
Until Amelia is limp in her arms and tears streak my face.
My sister is convulsing on the floor. Writhing and screaming in agony as her body contorts and dies, her heart slows and her insides reform themselves. Her skin pales further, veins popping up. Her teeth lengthen, sharpen.
Her eyes harden. She twists up to face me, her mouth curls into a snarl, “You.”
“I’m sorry, Amelia.”
“You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you would have stopped it.”
“I wasn’t here. I couldn’t stop it. I tried.”
“Why weren’t you here, Red? You should have saved me. You should have been faster. If you were like them, you would have been here. Instead, she saved me because you abandoned me.”
“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t abandon you.”
“It’s my fault you weren’t here,” Octavia says.
I frown. “No. I wasn’t here because…” But words fail me. I don’t know why I wasn’t here. What happened after I argued with Amelia that night? Where was I?
“It’s your fault,” Amelia snaps. “You should have been strong enough. Fast enough. What’s the point of being a hunter if you can’t even protect the ones you love?”
She rears up, pacing in front of me, then she turns on me.
“You’re such a disappointment. EvenI’mstronger than you now, Red. What’s the point of you? You couldn’t save Mother. You didn’t stop Father leaving, and you didn’t even try to save me.”
As she runs at me, I attempt to stagger back and get out of the way, but my feet remain frozen in place.
I hold my arms out, plead and beg with her, but she doesn’t stop. I cover my face, but the impact never comes.
I stay holding my head for a moment longer, and when I’m sure she’s not coming, I lower my arms and gawp.
Dahlia’s house has vanished.
I’m safe. I’m home. I’m in the Hunter Academy’s foyer. Lincoln, the Chief, all my favourite people are here, and I sag against the wall.
“Thank gods, I’m exhausted.” I say. I kick off the wall and reach out to fist bump Lincoln.
His top lip curls, a sneer spreading over his expression. It’s jarring and makes me falter.
“Wh—what?” I stutter.
But Lincoln steps away from me. “I thought you were better than this,” he says.
“I don’t understand. Better than what?”
He pinches his entire face and looks down his nose at me. “Blood slut.”
The word cuts me. When Octavia says it, it’s degrading, but in a sexy way. Lincoln said this to hurt. Wielded as a weapon, a slur.
“Lincoln. What the fuck?” I say. “Bro. It’s me.”
He recoils, turns his back on me. “You’re fucking a drainer, Red. How could you?”
“It’s worse than that,” Winston, my favourite student says, “She’s in love with one.”
