Page 121 of Ricochet
I enveloped my arms around him, inhaling the scent of blood, sandalwood, and everything he was. He exhaled, as if the calmness took over, and I squeezed my eyes shut at the pain ricocheting through my body. I pulled myself into his lap, entwining my legs around his waist, clinging to him like a monkey.
“It’s okay, Phee.” He rubbed my back. “It’ll all be okay.”
But nothing would ever be okay.
Nothing would ever be okay, because I gripped the dagger I was holding. Sobs wracked my body, but I had to do this. He and I, we could never exist in the same world, and one of us had to go.
No matter how much I loved him, I could never forgive him for everything he did to Maya. I could never forgive him for throwing me aside, as if I never meant anything to him.
I screamed and I cried for him, but he never came.
They chained me like an animal for the crime I didn’t commit. You don’t do that to the person you love. This hatred, this pain, it was eating me alive, and I had to be free.
I wanted to be free of him, of these chains he still had around my heart. Maybe I would have to kill myself in the process after all.
Because this could only end up one way.
I pulled back and claimed his lips—one last time, one last memory to haunt me for the rest of my life. He opened for me, and I could feel a small smile playing there.
He thought we were fine, he thought it was all forgotten.
I don’t trust you anymore.
He loved me.
I can’t stand even looking at you.
He hated me.
What have you done, Ophelia?
He ripped me apart.
I want to see you bleed.
And now, I was going to rip his heart out.
With my lips pressed to his, I gripped the dagger harder and slammed it into his chest. He ripped away from me, shock, fear and lastly pain, written all over his face. He started reaching for the handle protruding from his chest, but I beat him to it, pushing the dagger deeper. Dark, red blood gushed from the wound, his mouth opening and closing from the shock.
“Ophelia?”
I pulled it out as he fell to his back. There it was. Pain, so much pain in his eyes, and it wasn’t from the wound.
“You forgave me,” I leaned over him, “but I never forgave you.”
“Nooo!” somebody screamed, and it sounded like Cillian. “Kieran!”
“Shut him up,” I said to no one in particular.
“Why?” Kieran whispered, blood pooling from his mouth. “I thought—”
“You thought all was good and we would drive into the sunset together?” I sat on his stomach, the blood freely flowing from the wound now. “Why, you’re asking? Because you never apologized for making me the way I am now. Because you never apologized for the destruction you caused Maya—”
“Ophelia—”
“It’s my time to talk, darling.” I smiled as his face paled, and I knew he had minutes to live. “When were you going to tell me that you raped her? When were you going to tell me that you fucked my sister while she begged you to stop?” I leaned down, placing my elbow at his throat. “When were you going to tell me that you betrayed me long before that night?”
“I-I didn’t—”
