Apathy by L.K. Reid

Ash

What the fuck was I doing here?

I kept asking myself the same question over and over again, but the answers I had were too disturbing to think about. I tried to forget about her—the way she tasted, her smell, that wicked smile when I entered her for the first time. I tried to erase it all from my memories, but I couldn’t.

As soon as I threw away that condom, I wanted more. I wanted to chain her to me, to take her everywhere, to take her away from here. I wanted her eyes on me at all times, and I almost forgot what it was that we came here to do. I almost forgot about my purpose, my revenge, all thanks to the pair of blue eyes and a cheeky smile. All because something in her called to me.

I was on edge the entire week, because even though my mind knew what we needed to do, my body rebelled, craving her more and more and more. Countless times I almost gave in. I almost took her to the janitor’s room at school when she arrived in nothing but tight jeans and a shirt showcasing her stomach. And I wanted to punch Kane St. Clare when he talked to her.

I wanted to punch anything, actually, when she smiled for everybody else but me. Sebastian avoided me, because I was like a tiger waiting to attack, and it fucking pissed me off. I wasn’t this person. Girls came and went, but I never stuck around long enough to see where it could go. And one time, one fucking time that my blood hums from the nearness of her, it was the enemy I could never have.

If my uncle knew where I went tonight, he would be disappointed. I promised myself it would be only once. Only one fucking time, but when she called earlier tonight, I couldn’t resist. At the sound of her voice, my dick jumped to attention, basking in that raspiness, remembering how she felt around me.

So here I was, cursing the fucking rain for falling. Cursing this life for sending Skylar Blackwood to me, for making me want her. I wasn’t supposed to want her. I was supposed to use her, break her, throw her away, but instead I was rushing to meet her, to touch her, feel her, like a man starved. Jesus fucking Christ, this shit couldn’t be happening.

Not now, not fucking ever.

I could barely breathe, anticipation building higher and higher, and it was only a matter of minutes until I would be able to touch her again. God, my fingers tingled at the mere thought of her skin. My lips ached, craving hers. I craved her sweetness. I craved her darkness. I wanted to know who destroyed the light in her eyes.

I took the same path as the other day, expecting her to be at the merry-go-round, but she wasn’t there.

“Skylar!” I called out, but the only answer I got was the sound of the wind and rain around me.

Goddammit! Where the fuck was she?

I started heading toward the tent we fucked in, when a lone figure standing in front of the Ferris wheel, or, well, what was left of it, caught my attention. Her back was turned to me, her head upturned, staring at the sky, letting the rain wash over her.

What the fuck was she doing?

A lone lamp that still worked in the park illuminated her, showing the soaked hair and soaked clothes. I was already freezing from the wind howling through the night, but she was as still as a statue. I knew something was wrong.

Her pants clung to her like a second skin, showcasing her curvy backside and lean legs. The sweater she wore rode up, her lower back exposed to my eyes, and I wanted to drag my tongue over that creamy skin, chasing away the rivulets of water collected there.

With a lead weight in my gut, I closed the distance between us, stopping just behind her. She must have heard me when I called for her, so why didn’t she respond? I looked up, trying to see what she was looking at, but the only thing I could see were the dark skies and the tops of the buildings belonging to the park.

“Sky,” I whispered and placed my hand on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch, didn’t gasp, she didn’t do anything.

Her arms were in front of her, and when I looked down, I saw a see-through bag she was holding. I didn’t have to be a genius to know what it was. I was around enough people who chased nothingness day in and day out, to know that she was doing the same. She was running from something, but whatever it was, tonight it brought her to me.

Or, well, it brought me to her.

“Isn’t she perfect?” she started, her velvety voice like a caress over my skin. “She is perfectly imperfect.”

I moved to the side and looked at her face, seeing the smile touching her lips, but tears welling in her eyes.

“Who is?”

“Her.” She looked up. “Abandoned, destroyed, but still so beautiful.”

I looked up again, finally seeing what she was looking at.

A lone ballerina perched on top of one of the buildings. Half of her face was missing, the edges rotting, showing only the metal wires holding her together. The other half was still smiling, stuck in time, stuck in the moment.

“She could be an angel, or she could be a demon, but she’s still standing.”

Something in her voice pulled at my heart, blurring the lines I drew a week ago. Sadness laced her every word. Grief and despair were visible on her face, and I fought with myself. I fought against the pull she had on me, because I wanted to erase all those things.

Funny, less than a month ago, I wanted to see her suffer. I wanted to see her on her knees, begging for salvation, and now I couldn’t bring myself to push the knife deeper, to hurt her more.

“Sky.” I took a hold of her hand, the sound of the bag scrunching beneath our fingers echoing around us. “You’re soaking wet.”

“I wanted to get clean.” She smiled and looked at me. “I wanted to wash it all away. My sins, my memories, my past, present, and future. I wanted to wash it all.” Suddenly her smile disappeared, replaced by a frown marring her beautiful face. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t wash them away. They’re too deep, Ash. Their claws are too deep inside.”

Her hair was plastered around her face, the dark rivers from ruined makeup a stark contrast against her pale skin, yet she never looked more beautiful than she did now. Broken.

She was broken and I hated it. I was supposed to break her. I was supposed to make her beg and cry and plead for her life, and somebody else beat me to it.

Or do you maybe hate it because you don’t want to see her broken?My subconscious argued with me, grinning at me, taunting me, because we both knew I was lying to myself.

I didn’t want to see her like this because I didn’t want to break her. I didn’t want to see her tears, her wounds and bruises, her despair. Fucking hell, I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. But I couldn’t let my heart, or my body, decide for me. This was only lust, only a temporary fix, a temporary escape from the fucked-up world.

I couldn’t choose her even if every nerve ending in my body screamed at me to do so. She wasn’t mine; she would never be mine. A year from now, I would be her biggest regret, because by then she was going to learn all of my secrets. I couldn’t let her in. I couldn’t give her my heart when there was nothing to give.

I could give her my body and my lips. I could give her nights but never days. And I could never think of her as mine, I just couldn’t. I made a promise, a vow, and I was planning to fulfill it. A pair of eyes as blue as California skies could not mess this up for me.

She looked at me as if I could give her the world, when in reality, I was going to be the one that would shatter it. I could feed her lies to prolong what we had, but that was it. That was all I would be capable of.

She thought that sins coated her skin, but it was me. I was the sinner. I was the damned man, and once everything was said and done, she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me.

“Let’s get you inside, okay?” For all my wrongs, I still didn’t want her to catch a cold. “You’re going to freeze out here.”

“But I’m still not clean, Ash.” Her lower lip trembled. “I’m filthy, just how he likes me.”

He? My eyebrows furrowed, confusion running through my mind.

Did Kane do something?

“Moonshine, who?”

“I can’t tell you, but, Ash—” she suddenly stopped.

“Yes?”

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

If she had slapped me, it would’ve been less surprising than this.

“What?”

“Promise me.” She gripped my arm with her other hand. “Promise me you won’t fall in love with me.”

“I-I… Skylar, what are you talking about?” Where the fuck was this coming from? “We just met.”

A sad smile appeared, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. “That’s what they all say in the beginning, before—”

“Before what, Moonshine?”

“Before they die.”