{18+ COMPLETE} For the past three years, Bren Hadaway has been preparing to die.
When he was sixteen, he watched his dad murder his mom. And ever since, he's been counting down the days until it was his turn to be at the end of a gun. And Bren has...
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When Luke killed my mom, I was shocked.
Maybe it was teenage naivety or love that had blinded me from the possibility that he would do that, but I never expected it.
In the aftermath, I spent days, hours, months shredding apart my memories. I picked apart everything I'd done wrong, trying to identify how I could have saved her.
I yelled a lot—at anyone who would take it from me. Caroline, mostly. And my special education teacher at school, who would let me sit in her office and throw a ball at a wall for hours on end when I couldn't stomach learning about pre-calculus. Sometimes a counselor would come in, and I would yell at them, too.
But yelling at other people never changed anything, so eventually, I fell silent. And I just yelled at myself inside my head instead.
Seeing that Luke had stabbed Madie didn't shock me.
I'd known this could happen. I dreaded this happening. I tried to do everything in my fucking power so that this didn't happen.
And yet, here we were.
I didn't know which feeling was worse—the shock of something happening that you'd never imagined or the horrible dread of your imagination coming to life.
"No," I breathed, taking in the sight before me.
And then I said it again. I yelled it again as my heart bled onto the hardwood floor.
Launching myself across the room, I caught Madie before she fell to the ground.
Never. I never imagined that the next time I'd touch her, it would be to try to stop the blood from leaving her body. But that's what I tried to do, taking the towel that was thrown at us and pressing it around the wound, Luke's knife still protruding.
My hands shook, though, and Beau had to cover them.
"We got you, Madie," he murmured. "We got you."
He followed that by giving me a meaningful look, and I choked down another scream.
Withholding my cries, I pressed my forehead against hers, and despite the chaos around me, Madie's quiet whimpering reached my ears. My chest hurt at hearing it. She was a part of me, and shit, it hurt.
An officer leaned over us, trying to get through to help. But I ignored him, cradling Madie in my arms and refusing to let go.
"Bren," she said softly, speaking between heavy breaths. "Bren, I—"
"No," I said firmly. "You're okay, Madie," I choked out. "You're gonna be okay."
She closed her eyes, and I felt her nod.
Unable to resist, I brushed my lips against hers. They were wet, and it was only then that I noticed the tears. They readily fell down my face. "God, what are you even doing here?" I groaned against her mouth before I kissed her again. "Why did you have to be here?"
