Ruin (Rhodes #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,93

cried until I can no longer shed them.

The little warmth that once illuminated my path is no longer shining. Whatever hope dissipated.

I always thought perseverance can get me anywhere. As long as I want to do something, I’ll work hard to achieve it.

That belief crumbled with Aaron.

For the first time, I face an unmoving wall. I tried everything. I begged, cried, offered my heart and body. But nothing I did or said made Aaron challenge the darkness and evil implemented in him. Maybe it’s easier for Aaron to live this way. Perhaps I was hurting him all along by pushing him. It must be hard to erase something that blends with his spirit and flows in his blood.

Aaron’s way to cope with his demons is to kill. Not doing so is murdering him. Slowly. Painfully. Yet, killing still made him dive deeper into a one-way road of madness.

Yesterday. Today. The other day in the art studio. He looked completely lost as if an unknown entity snatched his soul and left him barren. It’s much worse than the first day he brought me here. At least back then, he was composed and confident of himself.

At least back then I didn’t love him.

I can’t watch him succumb to his dark end. I’m not Eva. I won’t be able to take it for years. It’ll eat away at me to see him drown and not pull him to the shore. Not that he wants my help.

My lips tremble, fresh tears sting my eyes. Is my existence that much of a torture for him?

With heavy legs, I stroll to the bathroom. It smells like Aaron; entangled, enchanting, and far. He’s so far away. I can’t reach him no matter how much I try. It’s clear that he’s fighting the urge to murder me. He’ll end up killing me then killing himself. We’ll be an incarnation of his parents.

More tears cascade down my cheeks. It’s useless. Fighting is useless.

My gaze darts to the mirror. The person who stares back is a little familiar. A ghost that resembles me. Her eyes are hollow, lifeless. This morning’s flushed cheeks are replaced by an unearthly paleness.

Looking at the ghost of myself hurts.

God. Why does it hurt this much?

My fist swings and connects with the mirror. The ghost disappears when the glass smashes to pieces with a clashing sound.

Something is snatched from inside my body and lifts above me as if I’m jerked outside of the mirror. My head feels lighter, lighter still.

Maybe the ghost is taking over.

Blood covers my knuckles, but there’s no sharp sting of pain.

I lift both hands in front of my face. Crimson drips from my palm to the tiled floor. Little red dots grow bigger and bigger.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I should stop it, but neither the ghost nor I have the will to. I may as well bleed to death.

Death...

Is it a bad idea to die?

I can be in a better place. Somewhere where it doesn’t hurt this much. Somewhere where I won’t watch this pathetic ghost take over my life. Somewhere where my heart will stop bleeding. I’m already on the edge. Might as well give myself the last push.

More than anything, I want out.

The bathtub I filled earlier calls for me in a bewitching pull. I grab a shattered piece of glass and sit in the tepid water. It’s cold, but doesn’t freeze me. The sharp glass is digging into my palm, but it doesn’t cause pain.

My thoughts, just like my senses, dissipate. Nothing but a need to leave exists.

The grey walls fade into the background. The cold water isn’t so cold anymore.

Someone’s bloodied hand holds the glass to my wrist and slices through it. My heart pounds fast. It kicks in once, twice...

Blood flows. I can see it; Red. I can smell it; rusty. I can feel it surrounding me; Thick. I can hear it; Slow. I can taste it; metallic. But I can’t register any pain. No emotions. No thoughts. Nothing.

Overwhelming darkness envelops me from every side, pouring over my skin like a blanket. It’s the first time I don’t mind it. On the contrary, I welcome it. Embrace it. The shadows I once loathed surround me and sing me a little lullaby. It’s like that void between reality and sleep. The little moment before one loses themselves.

Blood keeps