Her lips are purple, and her face is turning fucking blue.
Rage sparks inside me as I grab her chin and shake her violently, then drop my mouth to her cold ear.
“You don’t get to fucking die, Lark,” I hiss. “You and I made a deal. You go, I go. AndI can’t fucking go yet.” Hot tears burn my eyes. “I can’t fucking go yet,” I whisper into her ear, my head pressed to hers, “because I need to tell you I love youone more fucking time.”
I wheeze in a ragged breath as I slap her cheek again.
“So don’t fucking die, baby,” I croak, slapping her again. “Don’t you dare?—”
Her eyes flicker behind her closed lids.
Her blue lips part a fraction of an inch, then close again.
I gasp for air, shoving her arm up higher.
“Stay with me,” I mumble. “You’re too happy to jump, remember?”
Then I fade away.
46
DOVE
Isthis is what death feels like?
Not the act ofdying. I think I might be past that point.
I don’t feel any pain. Can’t feel the blood flowing from my arm anymore.
It feels like I’m floating in a warm bath. And there’s an arm around me.
Holding me.
Lovingme.
I smile, sinking back, letting the heat warm me.
The light shines a little brighter, calling me.
Maybe this is what you feel right before the end, after falling eighty-three floors: just…peace.
Warmth, light, love, andpeace.
If this is the end, maybe it’s not so bad.
My eyes flutter, and suddenly, the bright light goes away as my vision clears.
I don’t understand.
I’m in the bathtub, but why am I wearing clothes? And why can’t I move?
Panic sinks in, but then my eyes land on the arm around me, and the hand splayed across my middle.
I know those tattoos.
“Bane…”
My vision fades out again, then comes back.
