One Perfect Day

Chapter 42 | Risen

Blake tries not to show his shock.

"But I've always had a feeling that it won't work. I'm scared, Blake. What if chemo doesn't heal me, and you have to sit next to me while I die? I don't want to put you through that. I don't want to put my family through that," I frustratingly express.

"Hey," Blake lifts my head with his thumb, "It will work. You are Brynne Foster, and you're a fighter, do you hear me? I will sit with you through anything you face, no matter how bad or ugly it gets. Please don't give up on me."

His childish voice peaks through his strong words, which breaks my heart. His heart is aching for me.

"Okay," I take a deep breath, "I will fight for you, Blake."

He smiles and looks into the distance.

Then, it seems like something hits him. His face drops, and he interlocks his hands between his bent knees. I can't tell what's bothering him, but I know that it's something serious.

"Can I be in the hot seat?" He accentuates the word 'hot seat' as if he's making fun of the game.

I lowly chuckle and nod my head.

"The day after I..." He inhales, "Stayed the night at your house; I did something I'm not proud of."

My ears perk as he continues to talk.

"Our Mafia has a secret entryway to the Spanish."

I'm not sure where he's going with this.

"I decided that it was a good idea to go and... mess with them a little bit," He ruffles his hair, "I was just so angry about my mom and needed to do something to calm my nerves."

His eyes hold anger in them as he talks about her.

"I got caught up in my grief, and ended up killing more people than I even deemed possible," He presses his eyes shut in regret, "And I've been thinking about it nonstop. Everything I see reminds me of the men I murdered. The worst part is; that I shouldn't feel guilty for it. They have caused me so much pain. It hurts me to even stay at my own house."

My eyes widen as he talks about the people he's killed.

I knew he wanted revenge, but I didn't know it would be that bad.

I get up and immediately feel a sharp surge in my rib cage. I can't think straight with this stupid pain in my side.

"I regret every second of it," He admits as if he's trying to lighten the deed.

"How many people did you kill, Blake?"

He sends me pleads with sad eyes. I give him a look of desperation.

"Five hundred."

My breathing stops.

Five hundred people? God.

"Please tell me that's not true," I gasp as my stomach cramps, "please tell me you are not responsible for the deaths of five hundred men."

"Please tell me that you didn't 'accidentally' kill five hundred men because you were angry."

Blake looks down, "It was no accident."

God.

I put my hand on my forehead and feel myself losing balance. Walking toward the ocean, I lose the sense of what's up and what's down. My head begins to pound as I feel the salty spray of the sea.

I feel like throwing up.

"Brynne?" I hear as a hand touches my back.

"Hmm?" I whimper trying to take everything in.

"Are you alright?" His soft voice breaks a barrier through my headache.

I turn towards him with teary eyes.

"This is all because of me."

"What do you mean?" He steps backward.

I sigh with a slight cry, "Everything is my fault!"

"If I didn't invite you into my house that day, I wouldn't have lied to you about that stupid list. You wouldn't have gone skydiving with me, leaving your mom home alone. Your mom would be alive if it wasn't for me. And you wouldn't have killed five hundred men to avenge her. If I had just kept quiet as I promised myself, you wouldn't have to carry the burden of a massacre."

With every word, my energy gives out until I'm forced to cradle my ribs in pain.

Blake just stands there; with his healing wounds freshly sliced open. His eyes are flooding with tears, and his mouth is open as if he's trying to get his words out.

"I always mess things up," I scold myself under my breath.

Blake scoops me into his arms and holds me as tightly as humanly possible. I can't even tell if my wound is hurting anymore because of how close we are.

God, we are so broken, I think to myself.

I lie limp in his arms as I cry into his chest. My body is exerting all of its effort to stand up, so I lean against him to take the pain away.

"I'm so sorry," He breathes into my ear, "I'm going to try and be better for you. My revenge is no longer my priority; you are."

My heart aches at his words while he pulls away from our embrace.

My eyes travel to his red-soaked shirt, a large spot of blood on his blue sweatshirt.

"You're bleeding," I urge while pointing to his stomach.

He looks down and pulls his sweatshirt up, revealing no wound or cut, just rock solid abs, and perfect skin.

He innocently looks up at me.

Then his eyes travel to my ribs and widen. I look down and notice that half of my shirt is drenched in red liquid. Strangely enough, I don't feel any pain, just shock from the entirety of the situation.

Although, I do feel a little tired.

"Brynne?"

Is the last word I hear before I fall into Blake's arms.