Blades and Bullets

42. Stay With Me, One More Time

No. What have I done? My hand shakes, as I watch the deep red liquid run down the blade.

I couldn't help myself, some small part of me was smug - pleased by what I had done. But it all got pushed away as I hear my father's voice in my head.

Suck it up!

I never loved you.

You are a waste of life!

I am doing the world a favour by bringing you down here!

I'm exactly like him. What I had done, made me exactly like him.

I suddenly feel bile rise up my throat, a loud bang is heard as I look down at my now empty hands. Red blurs my vision as my hands soak with it. I franticly rub my hands against my clothes, scrubbing and scrubbing, but it won't leave.

The blood staining my shirt, but the mark is still there, the reminder of who i'd become.

I scrub and I scrub, my hands bleeding a new red, my own. I don't care.

I feel my cheeks flowing with tears as I uselessly continue scrubbing, it's futile.

I feel the touch of flesh on mine and realise I had burned through my shirt with the friction of my scrubbing. I still don't care.

My sides ache and burn, reddening and stinging, my skin flaking through my fingers.

I don't even realise i've been screaming until the word slowly fades back into focus.

"I'm just like him!"

"I can't be like him!"

"I can't."

"I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't!"

I furiously pull at my shirt, but when that won't budge I reach up and grab for my hair, bunching it in my fists and pulling hard.

"GET IT OUT!"

I need it gone, I need him out of my head.

I see a figure coming at me, "No! Get away from me!" "Please! I beg you!" "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

But the shadow only comes closer, I pull my knees to my chest and push myself back, away from him. Frantic in my movements I feel a sharp pain in my back as I hit the brick.

"Please."

I close my eyes tightly, but instead of the harsh feeling of his whip slashing through my flesh I feel his arms wrapped around me, except it's not him.

"It's okay," he whispers in my ear, like i'm a frightened animal threatening to run away.

"I'm just like him, I'm just like my father," I whisper sadly, looking into his eyes and suddenly I turn angry, "I'm just like him!"

He grabs my cheeks and looks me in my eyes, "You are nothing like your father!" He spits, "Don't ever say that!"

He pulls me close and I bang furiously on his chest, "Get. Away. From. Me!" Tears stain my cheeks. But he just pulls me in closer and I have no more energy let to fight.

I pound his chest but my fist unravels and lays loosely down instead.

He holds the back of my neck and pulls my face into his shoulder, and I cry. I cry for my father and the things he did for me, I cry for my dead mother, I cry for my stupid step-mother, I cry for the hatred I hold within me, I cry for the ice that plagues my heart, I cry for the boy holding me, I cry for the things I've done, I cry for everything. . . and I cry for me.

I suddenly feel a dampness in my stomach and touch it instinctively, I pull my hand up to inspect it, a sliver of moonlight casting a small light over my hand. Blood.

"Shit! Knox!" I slam my hand over his chest and hold down with all the strength left in my body, "Please!" I scramble out of his hold and tear a piece of my shirt off.

I wrap the material around his chest as the white fabric quickly turns crimson.

I pull him into me, "No! This can't be happening!"

"Onyx?" his voice barely a whisper.

"Stop talking! And stop breathing so hard, you're gonna bleed out!" I continue to apply pressure to his chest ignoring his tugs on my arm.

"Trouble?" His voice is more croaky this time, I look to him worried.

"What is it? Is everything okay? Are you light-headed? God! Please keep your eyes open!" I sputter.

He just reaches his hand up and I watch it, carefully observing it's purpose. His hand makes it's stop at my cheek and he wipes away a tear, his thumb making small window-wiper motions.

"I love you. . ." He breathes, his eyes hold a certain farewell. I open my mouth to reassure him there was no need for goodbyes and that he would be fine when he continues, "Luke lied to you, I went to decline the hit, I told my boss I couldn't do it."

"I believe you," and I did, I really did. For once in my life I found someone worth believing, worth believing in. I found a person I could trust, like really truly trust and I threw it all out the window all because of my past.

I allowed the one person I despised the most, control my happiness and my life, even while he wasn't in it, and I hated myself for it.

I hated myself for the fact that I was so desperate to find a reason to jump off the train that was headed towards Knox, just to avoid getting too close - becoming vulnerable. All because I was too scared he would be like my father, I was so scared that as soon as Luke sent me an escape I took it, I grabbed it with both hands and pulled myself too it.

"Trouble?" His husky voice brings me back, his voice was scratchy and coarse, nothing at all how it usually sounds.

This poor man, this man I loved, this man who hated me, this man who sat idle in his chair even when his hands were free, this man who refused to defend himself against me, this man who claims he loves me. . . is held right in my arms. I had him with me, I had him on my side, and what did I do? I fucking stabbed him!

I took my knife, held it with so much hatred, and sliced deeply across his chest. But he just sat there. His eyes looked at me with so much pain, so much love, all the while I scowled, I smirked, I looked completely pleased with myself as the blood poured out of him.

And he still stays with me. He still rushes too my aid when he sees me breaking down covered in his blood. He still holds me close as I punch and bang at his chest. He still holds me as I tell him to get away from me.

He still says with me.

I feel him shift beneath me and I look down, panicked. His eyes roll and his eyelids flutter.

"No!" I shake him, "Stay with me! Stay with me like you always do!" I shake him desperately, "Just keep your eyes open!"

But he doesn't. He doesn't stay with me. For the first time in weeks, he chooses to leave me.

He goes limp in my arms, his chest still and his hands cool, not a soothing cool but a deadly cool, a cold that takes the place of life.

"KNOX!" I pull him desperately into him, hoping that I can share my life with him, give it to him if thats what it takes.

I quickly pull at his wrist and press my two fingers to his vein, desperately trying to feel for a pulse.

I feel nothing.