Releasing 10 (Boys of Tommen, #6)

by Chloe Walsh

Mark didn’t fix me this time. Hugh did. And he didn’t have to hurt me to do it…

For the rest of my life, I would help. I would save people. I would bring them back to life. Like my father brought Gibs back from his watery grave. Like my mother brought his heart back to life.

Which one was I supposed to tell him about? Which sin would be the one that drove him away?

Mam told me that the fog would soon wear off and I would go back to normal again, but I wasn’t sure what that looked like. Not when I couldn’t remember a point in time when I had been me.

The first time I took a knife to my skin was last spring, and it was the result of an accident peeling an apple. The slice of the knife through my fingertip brought an instant onslaught of pain and blood. But it also brought a strange sense of clarity. I remembered because that was a bad day and afterwards it was bearable.

My breath caught in my throat, and I thought my heart might burst. Shivering violently, I watched him kiss my shame away. Because those scars on my wrists depicted the ugliest parts of my mind. But Hugh kissed each one like they were beautiful. Like I was beautiful. Like I was still me.

It was madness. It was ecstasy. And I had never felt more.

We were so very similar, this deer and me. We were both prey.

I was the one who lost track of time and memories. I was the one whose will weakened with every passing day. I was the one without faith or hope for the future. I was the one whose mind chipped away at my soul. And I was the one who had to live like this until the day I died. None of these assholes had a single clue of how life was for me, and no number of books, research, or college credentials could teach them, either.

Drumming my fingertips against the porcelain rim, I tilted my head to one side, trying to make a connection with the stranger staring back at me. I couldn’t recognize her, but I was touching her face. How unusual.

This, I suddenly realized. This was the line, the limit, and the breaking point. This was where we parted. This was the part where I left the sinking ship.

That’s how it felt when Pierce was inside me. He was a means to an end. I couldn’t make sense of it because how could you make sense of madness? All logic, reason, and moral fiber had checked out. My body ran entirely on primal instinct now.

Lying down on the mattress, I let the boy I’d ruined my life with do what he wanted to my body.

All I had was images. Memories. His sweaty body. The fear. The cries. The sensations. The pain. The weight of him. The sound of the mattress springs creaking. Of a different life. Of an alternate universe. I needed to stop feeling her pain. It didn’t belong to me. It wasn’t my trauma.

“I’ll always love you, Hugh Biggs,” Liz said when she rounded the table and stopped in front of me. Inhaling a quivering breath, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek before whispering, “No matter what.” And then she was gone.

I only wish I could go back in time and tell that fifteen-year-old girl in that hospital bed to keep breathing. To keep writing. To not be afraid of her mind. That her words mattered. That her story could help others. Thank you for reading, and please, keep breathing.