Page 31 of Pocketful of Shame
"They're in a blue box. Get the one that says light flow," I reeled off the words I had memorized by heart. "It has one little teardrop symbol on it."
"Uh, what the fuck did you just say to me?" He gaped at me. "Did those words actually come out of your mouth? And how do you even know what aflowis, never mind whatherflow is?"
I flushed bright red. "Just do it, douchebag."
"Ugh." Another shudder racked through Presley before he hurried out the door, muttering under his breath about being suspicious of anything that bleeds for a week and doesn’t die.
It wasn't until he was gone that I realized the mistake I'd made. Being alone with her wasn't good for me. Breathing was hard right now. It hurt too much. My ribs felt like sharpened daggers, piercing through my heart with every breath I took.
Still, I found myself staring at her face, unable to look away when a lone tear escaped. I watched its descent from her damp eyelash, sliding softly down her cheek until it landed on the back of her hand that was tucked under her face.
Instinctively, I moved for her, only to halt in my tracks.Bad idea. Bad move. Step back.Exhaling a pained breath, I veered towards the couch in the corner instead. Sinking down, I placed my elbows on my knees and dropped my head in my hands, ignoring the pain in my chest that made me feel like I was going to die. My conscience was pierced and leaking, oozing my guilt and pain into every other part of me.
I couldn't fix this.
I couldn’t take any of it back.
"I'm so mad at you…"
"I think I hate you…"
"Hey," Romi whispered, startling me and causing my head to snap up.
"You're awake," was all I said, tone surprisingly void of all emotion.
"Yeah." Sniffling, she nuzzled the hand she had tucked under her cheek as she lay on her side, facing me. "Where are we?"
"Still in Texas," I replied, straightening up and placing my hands on my jean clad knees. "Some one-horse town between Odessa and El Paso." I shrugged. "Took a few wrong turn-offs."
"Oh." A small tremor rolled through her, but she kept her eyes on me, those whiskey-colored irises piercing right through my black heart.
"How's your knee since the surgery?" I asked, feeling at a complete fucking loss around this girl now. Ignoring the bazillion tiny hairs on my arms that had shot to attention, I inclined my chin to the boot-brace she was still wearing. "You need painkillers?"
"No." She shook her head. "I'm okay."
"And your ankle?" Concern filled me at the thought. "You sprained that, too."
"I'm not in pain."
"Okay." I nodded slowly. "That's good."
"But I am angry."
Pain."I know."
"And I'm hurt."
Guilt."Understandable."
"Iwantto hate you."
She was broken and I was numb to the bone. I saw the devastation in her eyes, heard it in her voice, and still, I couldn’tconnect. I couldn’t find a way back from this. There was a Romi-shaped hole in me and I couldn’t get the words out to fix her when nothing would fix me. I sighed heavily. "Yeah, Romi, I know the feeling."
"You just…god, you hurt me so bad, Sketch."
"I know –" My voice cracked and I had to take a moment before I could speak again. "I don’t know what to say."
"You could say sorry," she whispered before rolling away and giving me her back.
