Page 116 of King of Ashes
But I am not so sure. So I am a bit late. It happens, considering the stress I’ve dealt with. Yes, that is the reason. Period.
I gnash my teeth, hating that he planted that thought in my head.
“I wouldn’t mind,” he says wistfully.
But I would. I would mind so damn much it would give me another reason to kill him.
The list contains numerous wrongdoings. What is one more?
I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to even entertain that thought.
“Hmm, are you planning to leave me then?”
“Did you give me a reason to?” I bait him, knowing he will lie through his teeth.
“Reason or no reason, separation is not an option.”
“It’s till death do us part.” I brush a kiss against his mouth, wishing it would poison him and imagining visiting his grave to flip him off.
He chuckles, sounding amused.
I am so amused I would slice his mouth like the Joker’s.
“I’m tired,” I say and roll to my side of the bed, but he follows me, throwing his arm around me.
I even out my breathing, knowing he doesn’t fall asleep before me. Only when his chest rises and falls in a deep rhythm do I slip out of bed.
A hundred scenarios cross my mind as I tiptoe around, careful not to alert him. I dress quickly, leaving everything behind.
At the door, I glance one more time at him, a solitary tear rolling down my cheek. I dab it away as if I want to erase him from my life. For good. Forever.
Only the moon witnesses my trespassing, lighting the way as if to reveal my bad intentions and stop me. Too late.
I push open the gate and stare at the house of my dreams.
The house he had built from my imagination.
The house that was supposed to be our home.
It still stands while the dream is long dead. Tonight, I will destroy the last reminder of our love before I leave.
Walking inside, I flip on the light. The interior reflects my vision just as much: warm lighting, dark hardwood floors, and green, gold, and brown accents. The white walls greet me with familiarity as my eyes sweep over each picture, a walk into the past.
Years of my life stare back.
Years I’ve given him.
Years he tainted.
I make a tour, seeing our younger versions flash before me, their spirits trapped here.
It’s eerily silent before I hear, “You know.”
27
VIAN
My gut instinct never leads me astray.
