Heaven's Crime (gxg) ✓

thirteen. i have absolutely no idea what i'm going to do now, peace out

                The screen of the text message dims, my fingertips hovering above the burner phone.

                I'M SAFE, DON'T WORRY. 

                But I can't send that to her—telling her I'm safe is like saying, I'm not suspicious. Too obvious. 

                I delete it, letter by letter, and type out, I LOVE YOU. 

                Except that sounds like a goodbye text—as though I am about to be murdered.

                And under any other circumstances, the thought would be laughable. 

               But now that I have stared a Yakuza boss in the eyes, seen someone die, and had a gun trained to my temple—I guess maybe murder doesn't seem so impossible.

               "Are you ready to go?"

               My head snaps up—Veah.

               Her glittering black eyes soften. Her dark brown hair is unpinned from its messy twist, and I like the way it falls over her shoulders, luscious and glossy. What would it feel like, to run my fingers through it?

               Don't even think about it. 

               I only kissed her once. An hour ago.

              Maybe she's forgotten by now.

              Did she get a concussion between now and the time when you kissed the life out of her? 

              Well, no. But it's possible.

              Even still, her eyes on me makes my cheeks burn—a blush. A ridiculous, infuriating blush is warming my face. 

             "A game," I say suddenly. She is driving. I don't know where we're going. "Let's play a game."

             After she stole a car from the airport parking lot, she opened the car door from me. I had only stared at her, surprised. I've never even had a boyfriend who went that far.

             We were just chased by gun-toting Mafia hooligans, and you're opening the door for me? 

             She had paused. Hooligans?

            That's what you're focusing on?

            I'm a gentleman. What can I say?

            I shouldn't have blushed then, and I shouldn't blush now.

            "I'm just . . . trying to figure out what to say to my sister."

            "Cassie," she acknowledges, and it shouldn't make my stupid, stupid heart skip a beat that she remembered.

             I stare down at the screen. I LOVE YOU is still waiting.

             Letter by letter, I delete it.

             HOW IS IT GOING? 

              Sometimes, I worry—now that I'm gone, now that I'm not there to protect her . . . how is she? 

              Is my stepfather the same abusive asshole as before?

              And then I shake myself—a chuckle that is almost hysterical. Of course he is.