The McKay Boys

32| marcid•

"Amelia?" I dipped my head, finding her teeth clamping together, her fingers gripping my bloody tank shirt. I rested a red hand on her head, the cut stinging when it grazed her hair. "It's okay. You're fine. You'll be alright."

She wept against me, her shoulder jerking and her body curled into a ball of self-loathe. A tear almost escaped from my wide eye, but I swept my face against the top of my arm to wipe it away. What had I done to her?

I should have called my mother, but I didn't want to add more gasoline to the flame. I'd try to heal her myself. I didn't want to accept the fact that we had broken her. She was going to be alright; she had to be.

I hated myself. All I was thinking about the whole time was 'corrupting' her and how attracted to her I was, when she was falling apart right before my very eyes. I should have known, from the first night she told me she saw him that something was terribly wrong. I should have never allowed it to get to this point. This was my fault.

I held her as she cried and cried until she was done and no tears were left to be shed. Her body gradually stopped shaking and I felt her muscles loosen against me, her fingers slowly detangling from my shirt. I looked down, and what had hurt me even further were her knees. They were bony and red. Reminding me of the day after we...we did whatever to Jacob Whitaker in that cold, secluded forest. I had yelled at her because she refused to eat and I was worried about her, but how was I so naive and selfish, and lackadaisical to not see how much something so immoral and disgustingly cruel could affect her? Amelia was so pure, so unscathed, why on earth did I not think it would ruin her from the inside out?

Why the hell did I not focus on her? Why did I not pay closer attention to her?

Losing her was far scarier than the darkness that would visit me at night. I wasn't sure I'd be able to live without her. And now it was evident that I'd literally given her the gun to shoot herself in the head. I didn't see how I could possibly forgive myself for this.

I stared down at the undid bedsheets, bitter tears blurring my vision. It was my turn to feel that uncomfortable prick in my eyes. I should not have stopped her. I should have allowed her to sink that blade into my forehead. Then the bed squeaked as her body slowly moved upright, the collar of her nightie dishevelled and her eyes, swollen.

An ailing gasp came from her as she gripped my wrist. "Khalil..."

Unenergetically, I looked down at where the open cut was raw and bleeding, dripping onto the creamy colour of my pygama pants. "Oh my God, you're bleeding..." She was about to start crying again as she climbed off the bed, pulling me up by my wrist.

I watched her through lifeless eyes.

"We have to dress it."

She took me with her out of the room, and down the dark hallway, and all I could think about was how she still cared for me even when she was this mentally broken.

I didn't deserve someone like her. None of us did.

She flipped the lights on then shut the door to the bathroom, putting me to sit on the edge of the tub. I watched her, every part of me relieved that she was partially being herself again, though it was temporary. The blood trickled onto the old, ivory tiles as I stared at her, following her every move.

She flung open the cabinet anxiously, and tipped on her toes, trying to get to the back of it. I stood up and approached her from behind, reaching up and grabbing the bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide at the back of the cupboard. She craned her neck to look up at me as I moved away and sat on the tub ridge again, trying to dress it myself.

"Let me..." She whispered, sitting next to me and taking the bottle from my grip. I said nothing as she poured some of it on a ball of cotton and reached for my hand again, swiping her nose against her arm before dabbing the wool on the bruise. I felt nothing...except the way my heart filled up with self-rebukes and regrets. I wasn't sure what else she had done to my hand at that instance since I was busy staring at her, noticing how her cheeks had become slimmer and her lips, cracked and pale.