Page 163 of Boy of Ruin
My throat closes up, but I cross the room and grab his arms. He tries to fight me, keeping the knife to his skin, but I say his name, over and over and over again, clutching the handle with shaky fingers, and in the struggle, my fingers are coated with his warm blood.
The knife finally falls to the floor between us and I stare in horror at the line he drew. It’s not deep enough to kill him, but crimson contrasts with his pale skin in a way that makes me feel sick.
“What are you doing?” I scream at him, yanking his arms down.
He stares at me through red, bleary eyes, dropping his arms, blood dripping down his fingers, onto the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I scream again, my chest heaving, my mind splintering.
“I just want you,” he says, his voice broken, his shoulders sagging. “I just fucking want you. I’ve always wanted you. It’s always been me and you since I saw you at that intersection, Lilith. But you…” He shakes his head, biting his tongue as he stares at the floor, at the blood.
I think I should grab a towel or a shirt, but I’m rooted to the spot, watching all that blood. All that pain.
After a moment, he lifts his head up. “You want him.”
I can’t breathe as I stare at his grief, meeting his gaze.
“After everything I did for you, all the ways he hurt you…you still want him.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to feel. I know that I love him. That I want him to be okay. That I think I might die if something bad ever happened to him. That if he’d killed himself right here in front of me, I’d probably go right after him.
But I love J, too.
And I don’t know how to stop.
“He’s really missed you.” Ella’s words at my back make me flinch. I didn’t hear her come down the stairs, down to the basement my brother held Ria in.
I hope Ria is still okay.
Mav said because Elijah’s wife, Edith, is missing, the 6 haven’t bothered discussing her at Council again. And now it’s like Mayhem has wanted to destroy any sign of her time down here. The space is well lit, full of sparkling new gym equipment, a place for yoga mats surrounded by mirrors which is where I am now, in downward fucking dog.
I slowly lower to my knees, a hand on my belly.
It’s hard to believe I’m only just over halfway through with this pregnancy.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the rest secured in a messy bun. One day until Ignis and I don’t see the point.
After Liber last week, with Lucifer…he walked out.
Mav said he crashed in his room. My brother bandaged his arm, but he didn’t tell him anything. Didn’t talk about Ophelia, about our fight.
I decided not to tell him about it, either.
I haven’t seen Lucifer since, and I’ve asked Mav to check on him, which he has every day. But I don’t know how to help him. I don’t know how to help myself.
And I don’t want to hear about my husband from Ella now.
I already can’t get the image of him fucking O out of my goddamn head. The memory of that knife sinking into his forearm.
I feel sick. There was so much blood.
“Yeah? He tell you that while he was fucking you? Or maybe when he was railing a line?” I stretch my legs out, flex my bare toes, see my feet look a little swollen. I reach for the water bottle off the side of my black mat, unscrew the cap as Ella watches me.
She’s got her arms crossed, her long red hair loose around her face. She’s in cut-off denim shorts, a dark green tank that shows her belly and dips down low to show off her cleavage too.
I try not to think about my husband touching her.
I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter anyway.
