Between Love and Hate

The Knife

*Violet's POV*

As I pull the knife out of the butcher block, I can feel my heart rate increasing. I walk over behind the couch where Harper is sitting. This is the part Kane and I argued most over. He wanted to be the one to do it, but I don't know how to use a gun.

"No. I don't think that. I think a knife is more your style," Kane says to him.

As I raise the knife up over my head, I don't allow myself any time to consider my options before I bend over so that my head is about level with his, and then I plunge the knife down into his chest, right where his black heart should be. I let go and back away immediately. He does exactly what I had hoped he would do.

He grabs onto the knife with both hands and attempts to pry it out. Now his fingerprints will be the only ones on there. I walk over to stand beside Kane and watch as he looks between the two of us. Blood begins to gurgle out of his mouth and I lean into Kane, placing my head on his chest. I'm afraid that if I watch, I'm gonna be sick.

I hear the couch shift and force myself to look up. Harper has fallen sideways on the couch, hands still around the hilt of the knife. The paper and pen are still sitting on the table.

"You okay?" Kane asks me.

"Yeah. I'm okay. I'm just gonna go grab one more thing."

I run into the house and grab the most expensive scotch in the bar and a glass. As I'm walking past the kitchen, I see an empty glass on the counter. Even better. I quickly replace the clean glass and grab the one Harper was drinking from. I know it was him because my mother doesn't drink scotch.

I bring them to the guest house and place the empty glass and the bottle on the table.

"What's that for?"

"If you were about to commit suicide, would you do it sober?" I ask him.

"No, I wouldn't."

I nod and then we grab our bag, put our masks back up, grab the bag and do one last look around to make sure we're not missing anything. We then leave the house, close the door behind us and hop the fence and sneak behind all of the fences back to the car.

I shove the bag in the trunk and then we head back to the hotel. The drive back passes by almost as quickly and we leave the bag in the car, planning to dispose of it later.

It's nearing 6am when we climb back up the balcony to our room. The second we step into the room, Kane pulls me into a hug. Neither of us says anything for a little while and when he pulls back, he looks at my face and brings his hand up to wipe the wetness off my cheeks. I hadn't even realized I was crying.

"I'm so sorry love."

"What? What for?"

"For dragging you into this mess. For everything."

"You didn't drag me Kane. I came willingly. And I would do it again. I don't even know why I'm crying to be honest. I'm not sad. If anything I'm more relieved. It's over. He can't hurt you anymore," I say and then kiss him.

When I pull back, he rests his forehead on mine and says, "You're so incredible. I love you so much."

"And I you."

We change out of our clothes, packing them away in our suitcases, turn the laptop off and immediately crawl into bed. I set an alarm to make sure we wake up at a normal time to order our room service and then I turn and snuggle myself into Kane's side.

The hard part is done. Now, we just have to hope they either buy the suicide story, and if they don't, our alibi. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion crashes over me and I find my mind going blank almost instantly.

When my alarm goes off, I groan and peel myself off of Kane to shut it off. I sit up and take a few seconds to compose myself before calling down to room service. I then shake Kane and he pulls me down, squishing me with his arms and legs.

"Kane, we have to get up."

"5 more minutes."

"Room service will be here in like 15. We have to be up when it gets here."

"I know, I know," he says and then releases his grip on me. I get up and go to the washroom, checking my face in the mirror. I dab some concealer under my eyes to cover up the fact that I've barely slept. I head back out and find Kane sitting up against the headboard, half covered by the blankets.

Is it bad that I want to do nothing more than jump on him right now? Apparently my body doesn't give a shit about bad timing.

"Darling, you're going to need to stop looking at me like that if you don't want to eat cold breakfast." I blush and turn away and then sit on the edge of the bed until I hear a knock at the door.

"Good Morning," I say, putting on my best happy face. The guy who has brought our breakfast every time we come here wheels the cart into the room, nods at Kane and then says, "Enjoy," before walking out.

Kane makes his way over to the couch and I sit beside him as we grab our food. I push my fork around my plate and realize how not hungry I am. I take one bite and then continue my procrastination.

"Darling, you need to eat," Kane says, placing a hand on my leg.

"I am eating."

"No you're not. Please, love."

"I promise, I'll eat. I just need some time," I say, looking down at my plate. I know this is because of the anxiety of the uncertainty of our future until this whole thing is resolved. But I also know that if I let it get to me, I'm going to have a much harder time crawling back out.

"Okay. Take all the time you need," he says and kisses the side of my head. It takes me quite a while to eat half my plate before calling it quits. I push the plate away and when I look at Kane, he's giving me a look but doesn't say anything.

"How are you feeling?" He asks me.

I frown while I think about my answer. "I don't know. I should feel more upset, but I know in my soul that we did the right thing. I guess I'm more nervous about the next steps and what's going to happen if they figure out it was us."

"That's easy. If they figure out we were involved, you're going to let me take the blame."

"What?! No. Absolutely not."

"Violet, this is not open for discussion. I wasn't kidding when I told him I would destroy my life to save yours. If anything happened to you because of this whole situation, I could never forgive myself. There's absolutely no point in both of us going to prison for this."

I crawl onto his lap and say, "Let's just not talk about this. We don't even know if they will figure it out. Let's just cross that bridge when we get to it." I won't agree to him taking the fall. I am just as much to blame and what he doesn't realize is that he's not the only one willing to sacrifice themself for the other. And it was me who was holding the knife.