Fourty One

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I guess you can say waking up in unknown places is my new thing now.

The room is white, with paintings of flowers on the wall. I look to my left to see a tube leading from a machine, into my arm.

Not thinking, I grab the needle and yank it out of my vein. I wince at the pain.


I didn't say that. My eyes snap toward the door. There leaning against the wall, is Will.

His eyes are dim, with dark circles underneath. His stance is stiff.

"Hey," he says.

It takes a couple tries but I finally form the words, "Hi."

He's staring at me so intently, it's making me nervous. "Hey." He says again.

"How are you?" I ask, not knowing what to say. We didn't leave off on good terms. Memories of this past few weeks flash in my eyes. I pick up my hands looking at the bruises up my arm. Then lift the sheet on my legs, and yank it off.

Goosebumps rise on my body. I examine my legs, more bruises. I'm practically green and purple all over. I wince, I can't imagine how my face must look.

"Funny." Will says to my question earlier. There's no emotion in his face. No hint of smile, no hint that what I said was actually funny.

I stare at him. For a minute, then two, then three.

He looks down at his feet. Look at me, I wanted to whisper. He does, but not with the love he usually has, with hate.

"I..." I started to blurt out.

"I'm sorry." He says, he picks himself up off the wall and turns to the direction of the door.

"For what?" I ask.

He stops. Still facing the door and away from me, but he stops. "I loved you more than I was supposed to." He whispers.

Supposed to? I asked myself. What does that even mean? Then the one word finally hit, loved. Meaning he didn't feel the way he used to.

"What changed?" I asked. Was it what I said to him those weeks ago? Was it me being gone?

He turns and looks at me. I'm stunned to see his eyes glimmering with tears. "I killed him."

My heart drops. "Who?"

"The one in charge of group who took you. He was older, bald, I don't even know his name." He lets out a sad laugh. "I killed him." I knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Why?" I choked out.

"He told me he killed you, said you were dead, said all these other things. I couldn't control my anger, I couldn't..." he takes a breath. "He was a terrible man."

"He was a sad man." Why did I have to feel guilt for his death? Why was I defending him? The one who beat me, held me captive, told me the countless of plans he had to kill me. Why couldn't I be grateful for him being gone? "He had lost his family."

"I thought I had lost you." He hesitates before continuing. "Why do you mourn his death?" There's no tears in my eyes to give that information away, but he still some how knew.

"I don't know why." I try to explain, but couldn't.

"He said you didn't cry." He blurts out, his gaze is nothing but seriousness. "That you didn't put up a fight."

"I didn't want to die." I feel as if he's hinting that I did.

"It's one thing to want to die. It's another thing to look death in the eye and not be scared of it, to accept it."

"I didn't want to die." I said again, getting defensive at his allegations.

His eyes never leave mine as he takes a step back. "But you didn't care enough to live."

"So you don't love me, because I didn't fight hard enough? Do you resent me because you killed the man in my defense ?" I'm angry, hurt, confused.

"I can't love you, because loving you is dangerous." He says, his face now wiped clean of any emotion. "I can't love you, when I know you'll never love me back."

"Will, what I said..." I try to explain myself. Tell him what I said wasn't true. Tell him that while I was being kicked, punched, and tortured I thought about him to make the pain go away. I thought of a life with him, I thought of loving him, I realized I did love him.

"I can't love someone who doesn't love themself." His words slice and cut deep. "I loved you Arden." Loved. "Enough where I killed for you, enough where I knew I would choose you over everyone if I had to."

I look at his face. Sad, defeated. The hate he had on his face earlier wasn't directed towards me, but himself. And it was my fault.

As a girl I always dreamt of falling in love with a guy. I wanted to give him everything. A love so big, that he'd kill for it. And I achieved that. But that's not all I gave him. I gave him a love too big, it'd slowly started to kill him.

There's no going back from what happened. No matter how much you scrub and wash, there will always be the blood on his hands.

"We aren't good for each other." I knew what he meant, he meant I wasn't good for him. But he'd never admit that.

I don't want him to see the tears threatening to come out. I turn to the window in the room. I had to hold in a sob, I would never let him hear how much his words effected me.

I stayed staring out of the window. Not letting myself let even a tiny sound out of my mouth. I knew if I started to cry I wouldn't be able to stop.

I don't know when he left the room, but he did. I don't know how long it was until Gwen barged in, but she did.

I don't know what Will said to her, or if she just knew. But she got in the bed with me and held me. Just her small touch caused the endless tears to leave my face.

I sobbed and I sobbed. My body trembled and she held me. "What did I do?" I cried. It was my fault he hated himself. I should of never let him love me. I was a monster. He was good, and I had to ruin him.

Now I hate myself more than I thought I could.

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