Page 58 of Craving Sin

I stand, take a step toward him, but he gives a small shake of his head. “Don’t. Just…don’t. Get dressed, please.”

So, that’s the way this is going to go. He’s putting a wall between us, and even though it makes no sense, it still hurts. This man is going to kill me, yet I have my feelings hurt that he’s not all cuddly and friendly beforehand? Jesus, this whole situation has really fucked me up.

I grab the clothes and go into the bathroom.

Rian doesn’t follow.

I wash up and brush my teeth like this is any other day, rather than the day I’m going to die, and then I get dressed.

There’s a pit in my stomach the whole time, this vast emptiness that just keeps growing and growing until it takes me over, and there’s nothing left of me.

My hands shake.

The urge hits me almost too quickly to turn and lunge for the toilet. I make it there just in time to start heaving everything from my gut into it. My eyes water, I vomit so hard, but it just keeps going as my gut cramps like it’s trying to expel even my internal organs.

When there’s nothing left inside of me, I flush the toilet, turn to look for something to wipe my mouth…and Rian is there, in the bathroom with me, holding a wet washcloth.

He pulls me to my feet, then wipes my face—the two of us, close, facing one another now—the green of his eyes darker than I have ever seen it.

“Come on. Brush your teeth again. Are you hungry?”

“Fuck food,” I snap. “Get out, Rian.”

How can he be with me the way he was last night, wet a cloth and wipe vomit from my face, offer to cook me breakfast, and then turn around and kill me? I knew all along, but it’s hitting me now. He’s going to do this.

I’m going to die.

Rian nods and steps out. I close the door, trying to get a handle on my trembling body. Somehow, I don’t think I believed this day would come, that he would go through with it. But this is who Rian is, isn’t it? This is what he does. Spending this little time we had together isn’t going to change what’s been ingrained in him his whole life.

The reflection in the mirror swims, tears pooling and then flowing down my face.

I do my best to swipe them away, not wanting him to see me cry. Fuck Rian. Fuck all of this. And fuck me too, for thinking last night meant something—that any of our time together did. I don’t doubt he wants me. I don’t even doubt he cares about me. But not enough.

Just like everyone else.

I go back into the bedroom. I sit down, not speaking as I put on my socks and shoes.

I won’t allow myself to cry again. Won’t show him any weakness, but I can’t show him any compassion either. I just want to get this over with.

“We should get on with it,” is all I say.

“Abbott—” Rian starts, but I cut him off.

“No. You had it right when you woke up. There’s nothing we need to say to each other.”

He takes this moment to stare at me, to look for something—who knows what—before giving me a slow nod.

I’m surprised when Rian moves closer, steps behind me, and places a blindfold over my eyes.

The shaking intensifies, multiplying like bacteria sweeping through my body.

“Come on.” Rian takes my arm, leading me outside and then down the back porch stairs.

Will I be buried out there? My body lost, never to be found?

His hand on my arm feels so different from his recent touches—his body cold, when it’s usually warm. Strong, but not in the possessive way, but like he’s trying to keep both of us on our feet.

Each step we take, my heart drops further, faster. We walk for what feels like an hour, but I know it can’t be that long.