Page 150 of Darling Venom
And I mean The Imperfections good.
Just… Wow.
Another four chapters for the book’s purpose to sink in.
Two more chapters to accept I couldn’t finish it. Not today, at least. Not with my sanity intact.
And another chapter to grasp just how screwed I was.
Kellan—punk-loving, kilt-wearing, forever-rebellious, too-cool-for-school Kellan—had written a love story.
A love story between me and him.
A love story that never happened.
A love story that never would.
And within the confession, he’d laced an apology for everything he put me through.
I reread a line, touching it reverently, as if it would come to life and bring Kellan back with it.
I realized, with depressing clarity, that she wasn’t the venom at all. She was the antidote. But the quantities were all off.
My fingertips grazed my lips. The same lips Tate had devoured. I remembered when Kellan first called me Venom. He’d kissed me, shoved a penny into my pocket, and offered me a carefree smile, promising to see me again next year.
It got hard to breathe.
I wiped my face with my sleeves, forcing away the tears that burned the back of my eyes, and continued reading, pausing when a line hit me so hard my teeth chattered.
Suicide is a war of two fears—fear of death and fear of the thing that pushes you toward it. The stronger side always wins. And if you lose, the penalty is death.
I slammed the manuscript shut.
Shoved it back beneath my bed.
Curled into a ball on my carpet.
I bawled. My shoulders shook with the effort to not fall apart. Shudders racked out of my body. It felt like my organs would fall out one by one if I didn’t keep myself together. The carpet burned my cheek. Its scent, of old age and overuse, barreled into me.
It would be so easy to fall into nothingness.
Afterall, we were well acquainted.
Tears soaked my sweater sleeve. I wiped my eyes again, streaking mascara everywhere. A shoe slammed against the rack outside, marking Leah’s arrival, but I couldn’t stop the flood.
Footsteps thudded. They paused in front of my door. I stared at the shadow beneath, waiting to see what she’d do.
She must’ve stood there for a few minutes as I sniffled-cried-bawled before she continued to her room. I heard the door swing shut a moment later.
Turning over onto my back, I repeated a line from Darling Venom in my head.
A line that gutted me.
Once a year, for a stolen hour, I let myself be the venom. The toxin. The thing that poisoned her. But with one momentary lapse in selfishness, I pushed her away. I’ve regretted it every day since.
For the first time, I saw Kellan.
The thing that made him breathe and bleed.
