Page 62 of Mr. North
“It’s…not true. You don’t need to lie to yourself anymore. This is the truth. We don’t need to hide it anymore. We just need to be honest with one another. We can have a life together, Raph. An amazing life. We can go anywhere, do anything, be whoever we want to be.”
“You’re not listening. You’re fucking delusional . I don’t have feelings for you. I’m in love with Beth. I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on her. I told you I was in love with her weeks ago.”
Paxton’s body sags. He goes utterly limp. “Stop. Stop saying that.”
“You killed Chloe. You allowed Thalia to think she was responsible, when you did this. You broke her fucking heart, and she’s dead. In some weird, warped world, in a thousand years, I might have been able to forgive you for that. But this? Trying to kill Beth? I’ll fucking despise you for the rest of time. I’ll never be able to forgive that. You’re a dead man, Paxton. A fucking dead man.” Raph grabs for the letter opener in Paxton’s hand. He almost manages to snatch it free from him. There’s no doubt in my mind what will happen if he succeeds in taking it; he’ll plunge it into Paxton’s chest. He’ll fucking kill him, and there’ll be no way of stopping him. Another wave of panic seizes me. I’ve just found this amazing man. He’s just become a part of my life. I can’t lose him. Not now. Not when I’ve finally allowed someone in, to break down all of my walls, to love me and care for me…to show me what it truly means to be happy. I react without thinking. I can’t allow this to happen. I just can’t.
I’m too slow, though.
It’s as if Paxton knows what’s coming, and he can’t bear it. His hand moves quickly, before either of us can get to him. The blade of the letter opener rises again. It jerks swiftly backwards, and then it’s inching little by little…into his own neck.
I freeze.
I can’t fucking move.
A stream of blood jets from Paxton’s throat, vivid, bright, and crimson. The spray rains down on Raphael, arcing, hitting the side of the sofa with extreme force. Paxton’s eyes go wide. His lips tremble as the shock of what he’s done sets in.
“I won’t…be with…out…you…” His speech is gargled, choked, each one coming out slower, rasping, wet with the blood accumulating in the back of his throat. “I…won’t…”
Raphael blinks rapidly as he’s soaked with blood. The front of his shirt is the color of rubies, his face spattered and running rivers of red. “Go then,” he whispers. “Go. Because I want no part of you. I won’t mourn you. I’m going to forget your face.” He leans up, shifting his hips, and Paxton topples sideways onto the floor. He gags and chokes, his eyes filled with fear and pain. Raphael doesn’t care, though. He’s all consumed by hatred. It’s written all over him, and it’s the very last thing Paxton sees. “I’m going to forget you,” Raph snarls. “I’m going to forget you ever fucking existed.”
