Page 206 of Because I Killed Him
My tongue grows heavy as I realize why Edmund wanted to meet in public. Here, under the eyes of students, Coppers, and surveillance cameras, there’s no way to hide the drug’s effects. People would see. They’d whisper. They’d take pictures and run to sell them. The story would spread like oil on water until even Benjamin Bogart is laughing it up live on air: Bruce Waldsten’s daughter, high on the very drug her father banned.
Worse, the story would break just as Dad is about to announce his run for Governor of the Rainbow District.
Edmund understands this. He knows exactly what a scandal like this would do to me, to Dad, to our family. I see it in how he watches me now, as if he’s handling something fragile, fully aware he’s about to drop it.
But why?Why?
I shove the vial back into his hand, trembling so hard I can barely choke out the words. “No, Edmund. Don’t ask me to do this.Please.”
“I won’t force you to take it, Loredana. As I said, it’s your choice.”
“It’snota choice. And youknowit’s not.” My voice echoes in the hollow cabin, humiliated and helpless. “I’m sorry, Edmund. I’m so sorry for what I did. I’d do anything to take it back. I know you loved Charles—”
“Loved him?” The sadness in Edmund’s eyes clouds with a sharp, poisonous disdain. “No, Loredana. I didn’t love Charles. Ihatedhim, even more than Miss Hussey did.”
Irene? What? My mind staggers, struggling to make sense of the connection, until I remember that Irene had another fiancé before Edmund. A fiancé who died.
“Was… Charles engaged to Irene?”
Edmund doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. I see it in the rapid rise and fall of his chest, as if his heart is beating itself bloody against his ribs. It wasn’t fate that tied Edmund to Irene. It wasn’t an accident. It wasme.
The truth rips through me, and I slump back into the seat, curling in on myself like paper burning too fast to save. I reach for words, but there are none for this, no apology big enough to cover it. I understand now that Edmund’s misery is mine to own. When I killed Charles, I killed him, too.
“Edmund—”
The word falters, breaking off as dizziness engulfs me. My injured leg buckles beneath me as I lurch forward, nearly sliding off the seat, until Edmund stands and catches me. He steadies me against the armrest, then starts to let go, but I clutch his suit jacket with trembling fists.
“I didn’t know,” I rasp, the tears scalding my eyes. “Edmund, I didn’t know.”
I rise beside him, clinging tighter, and bury my face in his chest with a desperation that burns through every shred of my pride. My sobs come out harsher, rougher, shaking against him. Edmund’s body stays rigid, refusing me, until I tilt my face up and meet his eyes through the blur of tears. His jaw constricts as he watches them spill down my cheeks, his expression fractured by the same devastation I saw in the elevator when he told me he loved me and I refused to say the same. His hands hang frozen at his sides, though his fingers tremble, as if he’s trapped between pulling me closer and tearing himself away.
“Edmund.” My hand hovers before I finally brush it along his cheekbone. He leans into my palm instinctively, then pulls away. “Please,” I whisper, softer now. My fingers drift to his mouth, and he stiffens, his breath catching low. I can feel his pulse pounding in his chest, his skin growing hotter, and the tremor in his arms, as if every part of him is straining at the brink of surrender.
“Please, Edmund,” I breathe, clutching his lapels as hope sparks inside me. “Forgive me, and I’ll never hurt you again.”
His head dips a fraction, his mouth so close that the heat of it grazes my skin. I rise onto my toes, reaching for him as my hope grows stronger. And then, just before our lips touch, he pushes something into my hand.
I stumble back, stunned as I recognize the object’s shape. My eyes drop to my hand, where the vial of Bliss gleams like a loaded gun, and my chest caves. He’s really still doing this? After telling me he loves me, after everything we’ve been through, this is what he chooses?Thisis his forgiveness?
No. Something’s wrong. This isn’t the Edmund I know.
I reach blindly for the seat, ready to collapse, when the tram jerks to a sudden stop. I stumble back and collide with the cushions, bracing myself on the armrest as the conductor’s voice crackles overhead.
“Attention, passengers. Due to a technical fault, this line will terminate at the next stop. Please disembark and wait for the next available tram. We apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your cooperation. May you always be virtuous.”
I don’t look at Edmund again. When the tram rocks into the station, I hurry outside and step straight into a mud puddle that drenches my shoes. The drizzle has thickened to a heavy downpour, soaking me within seconds. The rain is so fierce and side-slashing I can barely see a few feet ahead, as if the sky itself is tearing open for me.
The Genetic Engineering Facility looms ahead, its iron gates dark through the sheets of rain. Beyond them, the neon signs of the Moonshine Mile flicker down the street.
I mean to wait for another tram, but I can’t think straight enough to read the departure board. My feet carry me forward until my fingers brush the cold, wet iron of the facility gates.
Behind me, I hear Edmund follow.
“Loredana.” His voice slips in like a blade between my ribs. “Will you do what I did? Prove yourself?”
I turn on him, barely able to contain my shock. It only deepens when I see his face, still carved with a sadness that seems to rot through the middle of him.Why?I could forgive bitterness. I could even forgive rage. But this sadness… this I can’t forgive.
Again, the sense that I’m only seeing half the picture emerges.
