never be enough for you, I can promise you that.”
He shouldn’t even be an option.
“H-How do you figure?”
“Because I just know. If he’s that quick to leave you behind, with a gang of bloodthirsty vampires no less, he’ll never be the man you need. He’s incapable, weak, a pile of flesh and blood occupying—no, wasting your time.”
It’s not until after the words spill free and her eyes mist that I realize I’m about to lose her. The reality of my words hit too hard, more than she can bear in my presence. She doesn’t push me away, but rather turns away and wiggles free from my hold. “I have to go.”
No, I think, trying and failing to shake off the dread creeping up my spine.
I catch her wrist on a quick reflex. “Don’t go.”
But she simply shakes her head and pulls herself free once more, skittering off into the night.
Leaving me in the same fashion he left her.
♫ Not About Angels - Birdy ♫
Slam!
I’m home.
Tears blurring my vision.
My heart on the verge of breaking.
Hearing my doubts aloud, out in the open—coming from someone else’s mouth—has cemented the fact that my subconscious isn’t wrong. Everything I’ve been trying to ignore, all the signs I’ve made excuses for, was a pointless, stupid feat.
Storming into my room, I pull the pin from my hair and shake out the tendrils. Rip off my gown with such force I’m surprised it doesn’t tear. It could burst into flames for all I care at this point; its memory right along with it.
All of it, especially Hook.
Damn him.
Damn him and his words. Him and his ridiculous, illogical effect on me. It makes no sense, none whatsoever. He gets close to me one time and suddenly I’m a stuttering, jumbled mess?
I blame it on those eyes, those ice-blue, arctic eyes. They could make anyone weak in the knees, whether they admit to it or not.
Scoffing at myself, I kick the dress into a heap and make a beeline for the bathroom, hopping into the shower. The water is still freezing when I step under the spray, but I don’t care. I need to wash the night off me, need to wash Hook’s presence and Peter’s absence away before I crawl into bed and beckon sleep to take me until tomorrow.
Will I really feel any different in the morning, though?
With reality now painted in a new light, what difference will a few solid hours make?
All the world, I can’t help but think to myself, but, deep down, I know that’s not the case. These doubts will anxiously bleed to the forefront of it all and I know, with time, Peter will start questioning me.
And I’ll have no choice but to be honest, which will undoubtedly set him off and propel our demise in motion.
Why? Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t he just love me as wholly as I do him? He’s professed it many a times, has shown me in various ways he does, in fact, love me.
Yet, it doesn’t compare.
And perhaps that’s not fair of me. I shouldn’t feel the need to compare the depth of our affection. After all, love is not proud or self-seeking. Nor does it keep record of wrongdoings.
But I. Can’t. Help. It.
I’ve given Peter everything, and what has he given me other than memories I may want to forget some day?
God, I hope it never comes to that.
Let’s pray it doesn’t—because I’m not sure I’d survive it.
Peter
I sigh, frustrated, because I’ve told him more than once, “It’s not that easy. She loves me!”
“She’s not supposed to!” His echo rattles the damp, ebony walls.
I should back down, but I hold my ground, exasperated as he is.
I’m tired of repeating myself, tired of these random check-in’s as if I were some sort of child. “I never intended for her to! She was a kid. Curious. A kind little thing. I couldn’t just turn her away. Do you know how nice it was to talk to someone, to feel wanted? For someone to be my friend?”
“To be your friend?” He laughs cynically. “Friends are overrated. Loyalty is a forgotten cause these days. And look where needing a friend got you; caught in a pickle I’m growing tired of asking you to correct!”
Again, I should keep my mouth shut and back down, but I can’t. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” I growl. “I didn’t do this—”
“At this point, I don’t care if you did or didn’t do it