My Soul to Steal
Page 22
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Kaylee, wait! he shouted, but I didnt wait. I got in my car and drove straight home, so angry my vision was tinged in red.
Sabine wants a nightmare?
Thats exactly what shes gonna get
7
NASH IS ON THE floor watching me. Hes not in the bed, and I dont understand why, because he looks sick. His face is pale, and beads of sweat dot his forehead and his bare chest. He should be resting.
Instead, hes staring at me, and his eyes hold accusation and pain and shame. His irises swirl with it all, so fast I cant separate one emotion from the others. They blend together, writhing violently, until the definitions no longer matter, because theyre all aimed at me. Whatevers wrong with him, its my fault.
My stomach clenches around nothing and suddenly Im cold. I cross his bedroom and sink onto my knees in front of him, in the corner. His eyes are unfocused. Half-closed. I take his hand, and its freezing.
No! This cant be happening. Not again. He quit!
Then I see it. In the corner, the opening pinched between his fingers. A single red balloon, half-deflated. I hate that balloon. In that horrible, irrational moment, I hate all balloons.
Kaylee? he whispers, reaching for my face. His other hand stays around the balloon, but thats not safe. Not with him like this. If he lets go, hell pollute the whole room and probably kill us both.
I take the balloon from him, careful not to let the deadly vapor leak out. I twist the end into a knot, gritting my teeth as the unnatural chill seeps into my hands. My knuckles ache with the cold and my fingers are stiff. But the knot holds.
Im so sorry.
Nash is gone. His body is here and his mouth keeps moving, keeps apologizing, but Elvis has left the building. Abandoned it to the toxin I hate. The poison that is rotting his soul, and corrupting him, and killing us.
I tried, he whispers, and I need to move closer to hear him better. But I cant. I wont. I dont want to breathe what hes exhaling, and I can smell it from here. I tried, he repeats. But it was too hard on my own. You didnt come.
Tears form in my eyes. Hes right. I didnt come see him while he was getting clean. I didnt help. I could hardly look at him without remembering, and now he hasnt just fallen off the wagon, hes been run over by it.
And its all my fault.
I want to get mad. I want to yell at him and scream, demanding to know why he cant just stand and shake it off. Hes so strong in every other way. Why cant he do this one thing?
But I cant yell. I cant cling to my angernot when everything I know is falling apart along with Nash. Anger is great. Its powerful, when you need something to holdyou up. Something to steel your spine. But in the dark, when youre alone with the truth, anger cant survive. The only thing that can live in the dark with you is fear.
And Im swimming in fear. Im afraid of Nash when hes like this. Afraid of what hell do or say. Afraid that he wont listen. That he wont stop. And Im terrified of Demons Breath. Of the vapor he loves more than he loves me.
Because thats the crux of it. The dark truth. Im not enough for him. I cant keep him safe from Avari. Safe from himself. He doesnt care enough about me to let me try.
Its okay, I whisper back. Its gonna be fine. But I cant say it with any strength, because its a lie.
Theyre empty, Nash says, as I sink onto the floor next to him, trying to warm his hand in both of mine. But thats a useless battle. His chill comes from within, and I cant fight it.
Whats empty? I ask, and hes shaking now. Not shivering. More like tremors. His bare feet bump into each other over and over, and his empty hand flops on the floor.
Convulsions. He took too much. I want to get rid of the balloon, but I cant pop it without polluting the entire room.
Memories His head rolls against the wall to face me. Theyre empty. Numb.
My heart beats too hard. Its going to rupture. Nash has sold the emotions in his memories to pay for this high, and even if he survives, he can never get those feelings back.
Which memories? I dont really want to know. But I have to ask.
You. His hand tightens around one of mine, but only a little. Thats all the strength he has left. He only wants memories of you.
My throat closes and I cant breathe. Its all gone. He can never again look back on our history together and feel what he felt about me then. If theres no memory of love, can there still be love?
Finally, I suck in a deep breath, but it tastes bitter. Is this what Im worth? A single latex balloon full of poison? If someone who loves me could sell me for so little, what value could I possibly have to anyone else?
My next breath comes before I can spit the last one out, and the next comes even faster. Im hyperventilating. I know it, but I cant stop it.
I drop Nashs hand, and he stares at it blankly. Then he blinks and turns away from me, reaching for the balloon while I gasp and the room starts to go gray.
Its a relief, really, he says, and I can hear him better now. Somehow hes stronger now, without me. Youre so needy, and clingy, and sealed up tighter than a nun. Too much work for too little payoff.
Sabine wants a nightmare?
Thats exactly what shes gonna get
7
NASH IS ON THE floor watching me. Hes not in the bed, and I dont understand why, because he looks sick. His face is pale, and beads of sweat dot his forehead and his bare chest. He should be resting.
Instead, hes staring at me, and his eyes hold accusation and pain and shame. His irises swirl with it all, so fast I cant separate one emotion from the others. They blend together, writhing violently, until the definitions no longer matter, because theyre all aimed at me. Whatevers wrong with him, its my fault.
My stomach clenches around nothing and suddenly Im cold. I cross his bedroom and sink onto my knees in front of him, in the corner. His eyes are unfocused. Half-closed. I take his hand, and its freezing.
No! This cant be happening. Not again. He quit!
Then I see it. In the corner, the opening pinched between his fingers. A single red balloon, half-deflated. I hate that balloon. In that horrible, irrational moment, I hate all balloons.
Kaylee? he whispers, reaching for my face. His other hand stays around the balloon, but thats not safe. Not with him like this. If he lets go, hell pollute the whole room and probably kill us both.
I take the balloon from him, careful not to let the deadly vapor leak out. I twist the end into a knot, gritting my teeth as the unnatural chill seeps into my hands. My knuckles ache with the cold and my fingers are stiff. But the knot holds.
Im so sorry.
Nash is gone. His body is here and his mouth keeps moving, keeps apologizing, but Elvis has left the building. Abandoned it to the toxin I hate. The poison that is rotting his soul, and corrupting him, and killing us.
I tried, he whispers, and I need to move closer to hear him better. But I cant. I wont. I dont want to breathe what hes exhaling, and I can smell it from here. I tried, he repeats. But it was too hard on my own. You didnt come.
Tears form in my eyes. Hes right. I didnt come see him while he was getting clean. I didnt help. I could hardly look at him without remembering, and now he hasnt just fallen off the wagon, hes been run over by it.
And its all my fault.
I want to get mad. I want to yell at him and scream, demanding to know why he cant just stand and shake it off. Hes so strong in every other way. Why cant he do this one thing?
But I cant yell. I cant cling to my angernot when everything I know is falling apart along with Nash. Anger is great. Its powerful, when you need something to holdyou up. Something to steel your spine. But in the dark, when youre alone with the truth, anger cant survive. The only thing that can live in the dark with you is fear.
And Im swimming in fear. Im afraid of Nash when hes like this. Afraid of what hell do or say. Afraid that he wont listen. That he wont stop. And Im terrified of Demons Breath. Of the vapor he loves more than he loves me.
Because thats the crux of it. The dark truth. Im not enough for him. I cant keep him safe from Avari. Safe from himself. He doesnt care enough about me to let me try.
Its okay, I whisper back. Its gonna be fine. But I cant say it with any strength, because its a lie.
Theyre empty, Nash says, as I sink onto the floor next to him, trying to warm his hand in both of mine. But thats a useless battle. His chill comes from within, and I cant fight it.
Whats empty? I ask, and hes shaking now. Not shivering. More like tremors. His bare feet bump into each other over and over, and his empty hand flops on the floor.
Convulsions. He took too much. I want to get rid of the balloon, but I cant pop it without polluting the entire room.
Memories His head rolls against the wall to face me. Theyre empty. Numb.
My heart beats too hard. Its going to rupture. Nash has sold the emotions in his memories to pay for this high, and even if he survives, he can never get those feelings back.
Which memories? I dont really want to know. But I have to ask.
You. His hand tightens around one of mine, but only a little. Thats all the strength he has left. He only wants memories of you.
My throat closes and I cant breathe. Its all gone. He can never again look back on our history together and feel what he felt about me then. If theres no memory of love, can there still be love?
Finally, I suck in a deep breath, but it tastes bitter. Is this what Im worth? A single latex balloon full of poison? If someone who loves me could sell me for so little, what value could I possibly have to anyone else?
My next breath comes before I can spit the last one out, and the next comes even faster. Im hyperventilating. I know it, but I cant stop it.
I drop Nashs hand, and he stares at it blankly. Then he blinks and turns away from me, reaching for the balloon while I gasp and the room starts to go gray.
Its a relief, really, he says, and I can hear him better now. Somehow hes stronger now, without me. Youre so needy, and clingy, and sealed up tighter than a nun. Too much work for too little payoff.
