Her lips tighten further, appearing even more pained. I’d think she’s constipated if it wasn’t for the words coming out of my mouth.
“What do you want to do?” she asks. When I give her a confused look, she clarifies, “You were applying to transfer schools to London. You can still do that. You can still leave, and whatever… whatever happens to Roxi, happens to Roxi.”
My mouth opens, but she quickly cuts in. “Oryou stay, and we try to get Roxi out of that relationship alive. Those are your options, and that’s what you need to figure out.”
I love her for saying ‘we.’
It only cements how devastating it would be to leave her for London.
It’s exactly why I’ve felt guilty for befriending Sable since the beginning. I always knew I’d have to leave one day, I just thought it would be a little while after graduation. Something I could take my time with.
Because that’s what I thought I had—time.
Sable knew this, and since the moment I found out Lionel was granted a parole hearing, we knew me leaving was a possibility.
But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my face twisting with indecision.
She scoops up my hand and squeezes it in hers. “I know it’s hard, but you don’t owe a single soul on this planet anything, Rev. That man has made you suffer enough, and you have every right to leave and live your life.”
My chin trembles, and a sharp ache spears through my chest.
Why should I get to live my life when so many haven’t? Lionel has killeddozensof women, and, to this day, we still don’t know exactly how many victims there are.
But I feel their blood soaking my hands, and I can’t go through life pretending it’s not when everything I touch leaves behind a scarlet stain.
“Those women died because of me?—”
“That’s not fucking true, and you know it,” she snaps, ire flashing in her gaze.
“Itistrue, Sable,” I insist vehemently.
The onslaught of guilt is a punch to the stomach while devastation cleaves my heart in two. I'm so exhausted carrying the weight of somany deaths on my shoulders, but they've become such a permanent fixture, they've hardened into bones.
“What kind of person would I be if I just—” I choke on the rest of my words as a sob rushes up my throat. The heels of my palms fly over my eyes, and I shake my head, frustrated and desperately trying to claw back the tears from the surface. They’re insistent, and my entire face strains from the effort.
But it’s a losing battle.
I inhale deeply, though it feels like trying to pull oxygen into lungs filled with knots.
I press my hands deeper into my eyes, but the tears squeeze past the barrier and burn fiery paths down my cheeks, anyway.
“Ay,ma, come here,” Sable whispers softly.
I feel the weight of her body draping over my stomach, her orange blossom scent enveloping me. Then, she circles her arms around me as best she can, her warmth seeping into my skin.
I shake my head again, my frustration mounting, but despite how hard I try to swallow it down, a sob bursts out of me, anyway.
I bite back the next one and lose that battle, too. But I keep trying, putting all my effort into shoving the sadness back down, compacting it into a tight ball until it’s merely another organ in my body.
My body trembles as deep, shuddering breaths saw in and out of me. I don’t know how long we lie there for before the sobs retreat and my lungs loosen. But the blood remains.
It will always remain.
Sniffling, I roughly wipe away the tears with trembling hands before dropping them to see Sable lying over my ribs, her head resting on my bicep against the couch while staring up at me with a glassy sheen over her eyes.
I give her a deadpan stare, though I’m not sure how effective it is with bloodshot eyes and tear tracks. “I’m telling your entire family you cried.”
