Chapter
One
Onyx
Regrets. As I walk down the dark road, my mind is filled with them. I should have been one of those people who treated their bodies better. More sleep, less late nights, and all the rest of that shit people nag you to do.
Instead, I’m gazing up at the starlit, inky sky contemplating the diagnosis from the doctor. I had what I thought was a lymph node that wouldn’t drain, but when I went to get it checked out, the biopsy showed that the cells were malignant. Even now, I touch the swollen spot underneath my arm with a hiss.
It’s a flaring reminder that life is fleeting.
It’s not fucking fair. I should have so many more years before I die.
Despite the doctor telling me there was time to do chemotherapy, to dig in and fight, I wish there was an easier path. Why can’t I have some kind of magic where I can simply snap my fingers and be better? I also find myself very angry with God, since He is the reason a disease so vile exists.
“I hope you’re happy!” I yell at the sky, scowling as I stomp into the graveyard.
If I’m on the way to dying, I may as well pay my respects to the dead. After all, it seems I’m going to be joining them soon. I’m only twenty-eight years old, I can’t believe this is happening.
My mood is bleak, my lip snarled as the breeze brushes along my messy dark hair. My body is strong, my skin crawling withtattoos because I craved the silence of the pain and the reward of art.
It would fucking figure that something like this would bring me down low.
“Stupid fucking cancer,” I growl, kicking gravel as I stalk forward. The wind seems angrier here as I prowl through the headstones with my hands in my pockets, the cliffs at the edge of the graveyard gray and stark next to the green fake grass they have in these places.
I believe… I’m having what they call a temper tantrum. I’ve always scoffed when I’ve seen grown men grumble and punch walls at the bar, but I’m woefully deep in a full blown conniption fit.
“Why can’t I have more time!” I yell into the wind, not expecting anyone to respond.
My voice cracks with emotion, my head tipped back as I voice my displeasure. My black pants have the knees ripped out not because I bought them that way, but due to over use. I wear things until they simply fall apart, which is what my body is currently doing. I knew I was getting the results today, and wore my favorite band tee pulled across my stomach muscles for luck.
Ha! Luck doesn’t seem to exist for me today.
Just because I don’t work out every day, doesn’t mean I’m not still fit. These are all the reasons why I’m so infuriated with the current writing on the wall. I don’t want to puke into a bucket in a hospital, or become so frail I can’t get out of bed. I have few friends, and I haven’t told anyone because I don’t want to see pity fill their eyes.
Weakness isn’t favored in this town, especially when you need your body to work even a nine-to-five job. Gazing at how healthy I appear, I feel even more betrayed by my body.
I also don’t want to leave my mom and little brother to fend for themselves. They’re the reason I work so hard, often layingawake at night worrying about how we’re going to be able to pay for the costs of her medications since they aren’t covered by her insurance.
I just need more time to make sure everyone is okay. Is that so wrong?
“You’re very loud,” a man’s teasing voice says. “Don’t you know that the dead are resting?”
Pushing my glasses up, I glance at the person speaking, but his face is shadowed by a hood. He’s tall and hulking, the muscles apparent even underneath the hooded cloak he wears. He looks out of place, like he doesn’t belong. Yet, the attire he’s dressed in tells me otherwise.
Like a grim reaper. I laugh inwardly at the thought. It would be just my luck if someone was here to claim my soul. But those are only in fairy tales and this is real life. I don’t know who he is, but my body responds to him. Part of what I feel is fear, sure, but there’s also an intense feeling of arousal. I know that if I were to see his face, he’d be hotter than sin.
“Who are you?” I breathe, swallowing hard. I wasn’t quite in my right mind when I decided to start walking down here to purge my feelings.
The truth is the news is throwing me into a spiral from the uncertainty of what could happen to me. And now… I’m face to face with someone who may actually be more dangerous than my temper.
“I’m a man, what else would I be?” he asks, his hood dropping back slightly so I can see the wicked curve of his lips. There’s facial hair around them that makes me see he’s even more attractive than I thought. “Who I am doesn’t really matter for now.”
Of all the times to have sex on my mind, now shouldn’t be that time. Yet, as I stand here admiring the stranger before me, I can’t help but be filled with arousal.
I have a thing for men who can dominate me. It doesn’t happen often, but fuck if it isn’t hot as hell when it does. And this man, I think I’d let him do just about anything to me.
I’m dying. So why the fuck not?
