Sold into Heaven: A Sequel

Ch. 7

Once in Cleveland, we stood in a nasty concrete wasteland full of people too ugly to be hookers and too dumb to survive homelessness. Jackson lead me to the nicest place I had seen yet- a decrepit Chuck-E-Cheese. Before we walked in, he paused.
"Caroline, I want to you to know- whatever happens in there, I have your back. I'm your man, and I won't let anything happen to you. I don't care that you let him bruise your beef curtains- you're still perfect to me."
I looked up at him, so grateful that I had finally found the man who would be my everything. I stood on his feet and kissed his jaw.
"Ditto."
When we walked into the Chuck-E-Cheese, I saw Zayn lounging on a beanbag, blood dribbling down his face. Sitting next to him was an 18th century Victorian orphan, sallow and skinny (with an admittedly fantastic jawline). Jackson looked like he had been punched in the stomach.
"Timotheé..." he murmured, disbelief covering his perfect face. "You're alive."
"I'm alive. And every moment has been spent waiting for you, my prince."
Jackson ran to him and they kissed with a passion I had never seen. They fit together like two puzzle pieces. Jackson picked up Timothée and carried him out of the building, leaving me completely ignored.
"Let's get some food in you, baby." I heard him say quietly. "I've never seen you so sickly."
Timothée looked directly at me and smirked, then pressed a kiss to Jackson's face as they left the building.
"Die, bitch." He mouthed to me.
I started to cry. Why did love never work for me?
"Um, did everyone forget that I'm gonna murder you?" Asked Zayn.
"No." I responded. "Just no one cares."
"I care." Said a familiar and beautiful voice.
Harry.