{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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I've never really noticed the presence of blood beneath the skin. Not until there was a lot of it. Or a little of it.
With Madie, it was usually the former. I loved seeing her blush. I loved that I could do something as little as tuck a curl behind her ear, and a rosy hue would appear on her cheeks. Her body and mine—we were a never-ending chain-reaction. A wildfire that kept spreading. Overpowering everything else that you thought mattered.
But the problem with a wildfire?
When it dies, there's nothing left.
As Madie sat before me, I watched as all the color drained from her face. She was pale, her blood vessels so in tune with her mind, so in tune with the shock she was feeling, that they forgot to work as well.
Finally, she set the letter beside her and looked at me. It was a stormy ocean in her eyes today.
"Bren..." she began before apparently realizing she was at a loss for words.
It was okay.
I had a lot of words—most of them were jumbled inside my head. Threats, and swear words, and shit I didn't really want to escape. But some of them were words that were worthy of being spoken. Some of them were words that she really needed to hear, words that I really needed to say.
"Madie, I've been getting letters from my dad for a long time."
"I know," she said quietly, which took me aback. I blinked at her, confused. "I saw you that one night..." She trailed off. "It doesn't matter. Keep going."
That one night. The one when I'd asked Caroline to show me the letters that I'd known had piled up. The one when I'd sat, drowning in words on the living room floor. She'd seen that.
I shook my head. It didn't matter. Not right now.
"This one came a few days ago. And fuck, baby. I didn't realize he was—"
Breaking off, I rolled my eyes to gaze at the stained dorm ceiling. Goddamnit, I couldn't even bring myself to say it. The thought of my dad watching me—watching us—sent harsh shivers down my spine. None of his other letters indicated that he knew anything of what my life was like now.
But this was always what I'd been afraid of. Him, coming back for me.
And now her.
I was going to fucking kill him.
"Bren, your dad. Isn't he..."
I looked back at her face. It was pale and bright, like the moon.
"In jail?" I clenched my jaw. "No. And I know what you're going to think about me, Madie, but I let him escape that night. And then I walked away—from him, from everything. The cops have never been able to find him. Not that they really tried that hard. But I never even thought about trying to help. I wanted out."
