Page 153 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
“I… I…” Shudders rack me.
Images of Katherine flash through my head. How she used to play with our golden retriever puppy. Her sweet laughter. Her small arms wrapping around me. The way she handed me her favorite chocolate mints because I helped her ride her pony. She asked me about a girl in my class who supposedly had a huge crush on me, then giggled when I looked horrified. “You’re so weird! When somebody likes you, all you have to do is like them back.”
“Let it go,” Ivy says. “Please. You’re holding in so much pain, and you’re hurting yourself without realizing it, so used to the knife inside you.”
“Ivy… You deserve better.”
“No. I have exactly the man I want. You deserve better. You deserve mercy. Healing. Love.”
Nobody who knows it all, saw her bleeding on the forest floor with their own eyes, ever told me I deserved mercy, healing or love.
“Tony… It hurts,”Katherine said, but she put her hand over mine, flexed gently, even as she fought for her last breaths.
Hot agony sears through me. Grief cuts through the Gordian knot in my chest. A low groan tears from my throat. And my shoulders begin to heave.
I feel hot wetness on my cheeks.
The knot is bubbling, breaking, hurting and burning inside me. The old, festering wounds that never healed right bleed again, this time letting all the poison out. Anguished torment and grief pour out with the tears. My heart is breaking. I ache for Katherine, the bright, golden child whose life got cut so short, so suddenly. I ache for the boy I was—isolated and unforgiven by all.
I wrap my arms around Ivy, holding her tightly, my hands pressing her to me. She’s sobbing silently, sharing my pain.
And I let myself see how it was eighteen years ago. I was just a kid back then… It was an unpreventable accident. I force myself to answer the question I’ve avoided all those years—if it had happened to someone else, would I have held that boy responsible?
No. I wouldn’t have.
So don’t hold yourself responsible either. Let it go, a voice that sounds awfully sweet and young—like Katherine—whispers.
Oh, Katherine. I miss you so much. I’m so sorry.Fresh tears fall. Even though she died eighteen years ago, the grief is still raw within me.
Moments pass, me and Ivy holding each other. Finally, I say goodbye to Katherine.
When my breathing settles, I kiss Ivy softly on the forehead, the tip of her nose and lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” She brushes her thumbs gently over my tear-stained cheeks and cradles my face between her palms.
Holding my bloody hands, she leads me to the bathroom.
And there we cleanse each other, washing the ugliness of the past away.
