Always As You Say (Book One In The Waven Series)

32

It was shadier than I remember, there was less open trust on people's faces, though I suppose that only meant that they had gotten smarter.

The floors where filled to the brim with bodies, living and dead and those of us stuck in this realm in between.

But it didn't make it any harder to spot her, nothing could ever do that. It's like my eyes were attuned to her every movement, her every breath.

And those were thoughts I'd have to give up as well, thoughts I had already assumed I had rid myself of.

But enough of that, for Veronica was still standing there, still holding what it is I would need to rid myself of the gaping wound I called a heart.

And now it looks as though she has seen me too, has started the trek in my direction.

Is standing in front of me with that Cheshire cat smile, and eyes of molten steel.

"Nik, how are you? I haven't seen you in a while. Not since you left The Waven alive."

There was this look in her eyes, as though she knew why I left, and knew that I was no where near as unaffected as I pretended to be.

"In case you didn't realize, that wasn't exactly an accident."

She only looked further amused, "Oh, you've been avoiding me then?"

"Less that, and more me just generally staying away from people that make me want to slit their throat." I said, a smirk on my face.

"Oh, so you haven't seen Anthony then?"

There was no malice in the words, hardly any inflecton at all.

That doesn't mean there wasn't cruel intent, that she wasn't searching my face for signs of pain.

That she didn't see my flinch and latch on immediately.

"What's wrong Nik, is that a sore spot? Don't like to admit that you want to hurt him?

I don't see why your so upset, that is what your here for isn't it?"

She still had that searching look in her eyes, waiting for another outside sign of my pain, another clear cut way to see that this was effecting me.

But I knew better now, I had my guard up. And no way in hell was I giving her more fuel for her cruelty.

"Yeah actually, that's why I'm here.

I know you have his knife, that he gave it to you, though I really couldn't tell you why." He hadn't used it on me, hadn't even threatened, and so I knew that meant he didn't have it on him, and my life was far to conveniently cruel for him to have given it to anyone else.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow it."

Her eyes narrowed, turning that molten steel into something darker, harder than it was before.

"And why would I do that? What has Anthony ever done to deserve such cruelty."

Loved me back.

"Nothing, I know that. But he - I need to do it this way, I couldn't tell you why."

But she didn't seem all that confused, acted as though it was quite obvious what exactly it was that drove me to choose this method.

It really wasn't all that surprising, even if it was slightly morbid.

I had to.

Maybe it wouldn't make a difference in the end, whether he hated me in those last moments, but I needed him to. Couldn't stand even the possibility that he would stand there as I killed him with that sickening look of adoration still on his face.

And if I used the knife? He would see me only as the man I had once been, or, more accurately, the puppet of the man who had so hurt us both.

Which was fine, was true even, so it didn't matter, couldn't matter that that was going to be the last thing he ever saw me as.

She seemed to consider me for a moment, though her thoughts were no where near as clear as they were only a moment ago.

"Okay."

That was it, okay. No follow up or reasoning.

"Really, okay?"

The look on her face shifted from one of careful consideration, into one of pity, complete with a sorrowful smile.

"I get why you have to do this, and if that knife is what you need to go through with it? Well then I'll give that to you.

But Nik? You don't have to do it this way, if you - he'd still love you." And then it was in my hand, the last thing I needed to break the soul of the man who own what little remained of my heart.

I was almost disappointed, I had counted on this taking longer. Counted on having days, weeks even, to prepare myself for this moment, but now here we were, and I was about to get exactly what I had tried so hard to convince myself I wanted.

Which meant that, after all this time of preparing, of ruining the only good thing left in my treacherous existence, I was finally going to have to go through with it.

I was going to have to kill him, kill my Mr. Beautiful, my Anthony.