The Certainty of Violet & Luke(9)

Suddenly, he pauses. ‘Wait … do we need—’

I cut him off by covering his mouth with my hand. ‘I’ve been on the pill for a few weeks now, so we’re good.’

He sucks in a breath, then seconds later he’s flipping me on my back and slipping deep inside me. He takes my leg and hitches it over his hip as he thrusts in and out of me. Over and over again until I let out a soft cry, my nails digging into his shoulder blades. For a moment I’m gone. For a moment, I feel like everything is going to be okay. For a moment, I’m dropped into a blissful illusion where I’m free from everything and Luke is right there with me. But almost as quickly as the relief came, I crash back to reality. Luke has stilled inside me, his face buried in my neck, his sweaty chest pressed against mine. I can feel every heartbeat, every breath he takes. I count each one, try to match my own breathing to his. Content. I feel content and I want to ask him to never move.

Just stay still. Forever. Please.

Yet if I did dare utter those irreversible words, that’d just be me trying to live in a fairytale and I’ve lived too much to believe in such things. So I keep silent and eventually Luke pulls out of me, giving me one last deep kiss before he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling with his arm draped over his head. He doesn’t say anything, lost in his thoughts, drowning in some sort of internal agony that makes me feel guilty since I probably put it there. I want to say something to him, to take that worried expression off his face, to tell him I’m sorry I’m so broken and that I’ll try to fix myself. But I can’t find the words, not knowing where they exist, so instead I take the coward’s way out and utter, ‘Goodnight’. Then I shut my eyes and let my nightmares slowly drown me.





Chapter 4


Violet


I’m standing in the middle of dried up trees and grass, wilting rose bushes, and rows and rows of cracked tombstones. The sky is so dark it’s nearly black and ash falls from the sky like snow.

I know why I’m here, what I’m looking for, even though I don’t want to find it. A certain tombstone belonging to someone I care about and fear losing. I wander aimlessly through the cemetery, trying to fight the need to go to a specific tombstone, the one tucked in the corner beneath the only tree flourishing. But finally I reach it and have to look down and read the words engraved on the ash-covered stone.

‘Luke Price,’ I read his name aloud as I fall to the ground, ash falling down on me. Tears slip from my eyes, but they’re black and stain my skin like ink, stain my dress. ‘No … No … I can’t lose him. Can’t do this again. I can’t lose someone again.’ My head falls as I sob. ‘Please don’t let me be alone again.’ But the hollow sound of the world around me is the only response I get.


I’m once again ripped out of a nightmare, gasping for air as I bolt upright in the bed. I nearly black out from the lack of oxygen, struggling to shove the nightmare out of my mind, but it consumes my thoughts.

It’s the fear of being alone, of losing Luke, of someone else I care about leaving me. Just dreaming about it feels like it killed me, what would happen to me if he really did leave me? Or worse, something terrible happened to him?

I lie soundlessly in bed for a while, so I don’t wake Luke. Usually I wake him up with my gasping ritual, but he must be super-tired this morning. I stare up at the ceiling, telling myself that it’s just another damn dream and to get over it. That Luke’s not buried under the ground in his final resting place. That he’s right here beside me, breathing rather loudly, shirtless, his rock-solid chest inked like a canvas, and that I’m not going to lose him. But the problem is, my parents are buried under the ground, and it reminds me of how I felt right after I lost them, back when I would allow myself to feel the sting their deaths left behind. How afraid I was that I’d end up alone in the world and how painful it was when I realized my worry was reality – that I was alone. I got used to it, though, adapted the best that I could. What would happen though if I lost Luke suddenly? Could I handle it again?

My fears keep me away until the sun comes up and fills our room with bright sunlight. Luke starts to wake up, turning over and rubbing his eyes before he sits up. His jawline is scruffy, in need of a shave, and there are dark circles under his brown eyes. ‘How you feeling this morning?’ he asks me with a yawn. He must see something in my eyes he doesn’t like because concern masks his expression. Damn eyes. They’ve been giving me away lately.

I look away to avoid eye contact with him. ‘Good, other than the killer headache I have.’ I know my hangover isn’t what he was referring to, but I don’t want to talk about anything else. About last night. About my nightmares. About me using sex as a distraction.