Twelve of Roses

There was a knife set on the counter and I went for it, grabbing the one with the biggest handle before positioning the kitchen island between us. My chest heaved, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“I tried to let you go, ya know? I dressed them up and told myself they were you. Every time I killed one, I told myself that would be it. You were going to be dead.”

“Con, we don’t have to do this. We can get help.”

I wanted to beg him.

I hated that I loved him even as he was trying to kill me.

This situation proved how insane love was. It lacked all reason and logic.

“You’re always trying to fix us, Rose. But we aren’t broken—we’re simply different.”

“Con.” I didn’t care; I pleaded with him.

“You’re like a narcotic. I don’t think straight when I’m high on you.” He frowned.

He was saying I was bad for him. I had been trying to tell him the same exact thing before we even got to this point. Pushing him away didn’t work. Making him think it was him and not me wasn’t working.

Nothing was working.

“I tried to save you from me!” I yelled in frustration.

When he suddenly tossed his ax down and charged around the island, I wasn’t prepared for it. He rushed me like a linebacker, straight into the cabinets. I lost my knife and wound up crushed by his weight.

“It’s your entire fault.” He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head back, using it to shatter the glass. Color exploded behind my eyes.

I reached up and blindly went for his face, turning my head and biting down on whatever piece of him I could.

“Fuck!” he yelled, damn near throwing me across the room.

How many times was I going to fall down tonight?

His boot was stomping down on my hand before I could move again. I felt the bone give way beneath his weight and screamed in agony. The pain brought a healthy wave of nausea with it, making everything blur before my eyes.

“Why is loving you never good enough?” he demanded to know, kicking me in the side.

I sputtered, clutching my stomach and trying to form a response.

He did this to me before, made me almost unrecognizable, and then swore he’d never hurt me again. It was why I left him to burn in the fire. I had pushed him too far that night—it was my entire fault.

Everything bad that happened was my fault. I started pulling myself across the floor as he ranted above me, spewing love and hatred like bullets, each one finding a mark.

“You made a promise, but you didn’t mean it.” His voice broke, and I didn’t have anything left of a heart to break with it.

“Careful. Some people make promises they don’t mean.” His words from Gooskis chose now of all times to flash through my mind. I would have laughed if I could have.

He reached down and grabbed me by the crown of my hair as I tried dragging myself away.

“I’m sorry, Rosie. Killing you is the only way to bring us peace.”

He rolled me onto my back and lifted me slightly off the ground by the throat, crushing my windpipe in his grip.

I’m sorry, too. I used whatever strength I could and shoved the knife I’d managed to grab into his chest, but it wasn’t enough. I could see it sticking out near his left shoulder, but it was almost like he didn’t even feel it.

A warm, relaxing sensation spread through my body. I was barely aware of the door being kicked in, or Justin being swarmed by men in uniform out front.

There was lots of yelling and one single shot.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I thought I felt his lips skim across mine, but when I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by monitors and one Sheriff Reynolds.

I smiled at him, glad he was finally getting some rest, even if he looked uncomfortable squished in a hospital chair.

My hand was in a cast. I had some bruises, and my pride was gone with the wind, but I was breathing. Death seemed determined not to take me with her quite yet.

“You need anything?” Sheriff Reynolds asked, standing up as soon as he sensed I was awake. He was so eager to try and make me feel better any way he could.

His guilt was misplaced.

I couldn’t judge or hate him for protecting his only family and doing what he thought was right.

I had enough skeletons in my closet to last twelve lifetimes. He was adamant that I stay with him until I got myself together again, and I was in no state to object. If he ended up killing me, he’d be doing the world a favor.

“No, I’m fine,” I replied softly, staring at the rose on my hospital table. It was more a deep lavender than black, but I was guessing that was because the gift shop didn’t carry those in stock.