Love Sucks

Love Sucks - 34

I don't think you can dedicate more than one chapter to a person in a story, but nonetheless, this one's for Sophie, who, despite living on the other side of the world to me, is a pretty awesome friend. Plus, I love the conversations we have when it's lunch time for her, and it's the early hours of the morning for me... take now for instance xD. Anyways. So yeah..

I know, I know, like every other chapter of LS, there are spelling mistakes, grammar mistakes and every other kind of mistake fitted in there, but believe it or not, I'm trying to work on editing the whole story; not changing anything, just re-writing some sentences, checking for grammar n'that. So once again, for the 34th time, do excuse my mistakes, and er..

Enjoy?

<3333333.

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Chapter thirty-four;

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Brighten – Breathe

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Nine hours, Cathy had been asleep. Some of those nine hours, I spent sitting at her bedside, watching her chest rise and fall steadily, watching her warm, sweet-scented blood rush through the vessel in her throat. But I couldn’t look at her for long; how her beautiful blonde hair framed her perfect face, her fingers clutching at the cold, silky sheets as she dreamed.

I couldn’t bear looking at her, and seeing everything I’d seen in some hour-long sessions with Jordan in the basement, with Ashton by my side, digging things out of his head and feeding them to me. All those images of Cathy. The memories.

The sickest part, is he remembers loving the feel of it. Every time he hit her, abused her, he more than loved watching her sob… he adored it.

I hated it. I couldn’t stand watching the images, I couldn’t bear it, and so I didn’t go back down in the basement, knowing I’d only rip him to shreds quicker than he could blink. I didn’t want to kill him, not yet; he hadn’t suffered nearly enough.

So I stared at her for hours, the entire house in silence, knowing I could snap at any second. I could only be somewhat ashamed of myself when bloody tears swept down my cheeks as I watched her sleep; I could see the bruises on her cheeks, the black eye, the bloody nose, split lip. Ashton had told me what she was dreaming, what she was thinking of deep down in her unconscious state.

She was thinking of committing the act that left behind the barely-there white scars on her left wrist. I’d never even noticed.

I wiped away the traitor tears of blood and wiped it on a nearby tissue, and sat back in the wooden chair, still watching her as she slept. For a little while, I let my eyes wander out the window, at the rising moon, the flickering, faint stars beginning to surface. I clenched my jaw tightly to stop a growl of rage escaping my lips; Jordan was downstairs, in the basement unconscious and bloody, his head filled with horrible images of Cathy – my Cathy – and outside, the sky was falling.

* * * * * * * * * *  

Pain shot up my arm, radiating from my wrist. My heart slammed against my ribs and the inside of my lower stomach burned. I shot up in the bed as if I’d been electrocuted; my heart was racing, my palms were clammy, my throat was clogged. But when Alex sat up next to me and wrapped his arms around me, it was okay; I felt so much better.

“What’s the matter, princess?”

Still breathing heavily, I said, “Bad dream.” I leaned into him, burying my face into his neck. As he intertwined our hands together, my heart jolted at the number inked onto the back of his hand.