On your own. The words echoed. On your own. On your own. On your own.
Holden never felt crazy until he met Kit.
He always knew he wasn’t normal. The things that made him happy weren’t what most children daydreamed of. But that never bothered him before. Holden only ever worried about slipping up. Being discovered. Being fixed, as if he was broken.
This was so much harder. Holden didn’t know how to survive a world where he cared about someone.
Erasing Kit would solve everything. Except Kit was still here, still alive, saying such horrible things.
“I don’t want you to suffer,” Holden snapped.
“I don’t want to die!” Kit’s chest heaved beneath the rumpled mesh. “But if you’re going to kill me, I want you to know exactly what you’re doing. I want us both to be there for every fucking second. No pretending that it’s kindness or mercy or love.” Kit licked his lips. “If you’re going to murder me, you have to do it right.”
Silence fell between them. Kit stared, like he was the one in control, not the one bound on the bare mattress. Holden’s heart struggled against the straitjacket of his ribs.
Holden never wanted to kill Kit. That was the fucking problem.
“I don’t know what to do,” Holden said quietly.
The sharp smile slid from Kit’s face. His eyes softened. “Could you untie my hands?”
Holden’s body moved without input from his brain. He crawled onto the mattress, hesitating as he neared Kit. But Kit didn’t flinch away from him. Kit was pliant and warm as Holden moved him from the wall and unbuckled the cuffs.
Steel, lined with leather and faux-fur padding, to keep Kit restrained without hurting him. Holden set them aside.
He meant to unfasten Kit’s ankles next, but before he could move, Kit touched his face.
“You’re okay.” Kit wiped the tears from Holden’s cheeks. “We’re both okay.”
Holden wasn’t sure about that. But with Kit’s fingers soft against his face, Kit’s breath soft against his lips, Holden wanted to pretend.
He let Kit draw him down, until they lay side by side on the mattress. Kit’s head pillowed on his shoulder. Neither of them made any move to free Kit’s ankles.
“What was your plan after you killed me?” Kit asked, tracing patterns on Holden’s chest.
“I didn’t have a plan.” Holden wanted to grab Kit’s hand. He probably shouldn’t. “I might have killed myself. Might have let your boyfriend do it, though.”
“Which one of my boyfriends?” Kit asked.
“Whoever was fastest.”
“Last time James and Darius shot a man, it was a tie,” Kit said, matter-of-factly. Then he laughed. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you that.”
Holden couldn’t believe it either. Like this, he could almost believe they were a normal couple. Well, not normal. But the kind of couple who communicated with each other about murder and things. “They’re still probably going to kill me.”
Kit shrugged against him, then sat up. He looked down. Caressed Holden’s face again. “You wanted a piece of me no one else has ever touched.”
Holden propped himself up on one elbow. He felt strangely relaxed, even though the clock was ticking towards an unknown deadline. Every moment was a moment closer to Kit’s boyfriends knocking the door down. But right now, Holden had this space, this moment, all to himself.
“I want every piece of you, darling,” Holden said.
Kit exhaled. “Then I’ll give you something worse than dying. I’ll tell you the truth about my past.”
39
“I thought my family was normal too.”
Kit had never told this story from the beginning before. He had only told it from the end—the part he knew. Other people dug up the earlier pieces, ripping Kit’s childhood apart to find the jagged bones of it.
