Twisting me round, he pushes his palm arduous in opposition to my mouth and forces me to lookup at him. His expression is about and agency. His jaw clenched so tight, his hole cheeks have utterly disappeared within the shadows.

There isn’t any trace of regret over what he’s performed. Solely unwavering dedication.

Observing him via the watery gleam of my tears, my coronary heart feels as if he’s actually shredded it to items.

“He was stealing from me. Stealing from you. Us,” he practically spits. “Our future kids!”

Wait… what?

My pulse skips a beat and my head spins making an attempt to grasp. What’s he speaking about?

“I gave him each alternative to appropriate his errors,” he goes on, his voice turning into harsher with each phrase. “However his greed might not be tolerated. I can’t and received’t let anybody fuck with our livelihood.”

Is he… speaking about killing somebody?

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, as if he’s making an attempt to get himself beneath management. “I didn’t plan on it being in the present day, but it surely couldn’t be helped.”

Lifting the arm not smothering my mouth, he flexes his fingers between us. “He pressured my hand.”

Eyes drawn to the motion, I take a look at his fingers and see pink splattered in tiny dots throughout them.

Is that the identical pink I noticed smeared close to his button?

Not lipstick… however a person’s blood?

He clenches his fingers right into a fist. “You realize what I’m, Abigail. You’ve all the time identified.”

Dropping his fist to his facet, his eyes are stuffed with fury and one thing else…

One thing I doubt he’s let anybody else see.

One thing dangerously near vulnerability.

He could also be handled like a person by everybody else, calls for to be handled prefer it, however deep down he’s nonetheless a boy.

A boy not a lot older than me.

“I can’t…” He sharply shakes his blond head. “I received’t allow you to go away me. Even when it makes you hate me.”

Extra tears fill my eyes and the ache in my chest, in my coronary heart, twists. Not for me, it throbs and aches for him.

Reaching up, I seize his hand. At first he resists, not eager to let me go, most likely afraid to let me go, however lastly relents.

Dragging his hand away from my mouth, I swallow in air.

When he tries to tug his arm again, I slip my fingers via his and squeeze, trapping them.

He provides me a glance stuffed with confusion.

“I… I believed…” I say breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”

He glances at our joined fingers then frowns and appears again to me. “What did you assume?”

How can I even clarify it now with out sounding like an fool? That I believed he cheated on me when he actually killed a person? And now that I do know higher… I’m not mad at him?

It sounds completely loopy.

Am I loopy?

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