by Sabre, Mason
She stared at him, saying nothing, agony twisting her beautiful face. Stupid fucking William. She was going to leave now. He didn’t blame her.
Forty-One
Rosie
William. Oh God, William.
It was him, it was William, right there. Right there before her. Not Josh, it was never Josh, it was always him.
She lifted a hand toward him, not knowing where to touch. “It’s you,” she whispered, her fingers trembling at his shoulder. He rocked a little in the tub, holding his knees, covered in blood. “It’s you William.”
“No,” he hissed at her, angling his eyes toward her. “William is gone. William died that night,” he reminded roughly.
Her hand froze as she stared at him, her head shaking. “No,” she whispered, lowering her hand to rest on his shoulder. “He survived that night.”
“No,” he barked, his face trembling. “Josh survived, Rosie. Josh is the one that survived, Josh is the one that decided to live. William jumped, do you understand?”
She fought another sob. “I do,” she said softly, nodding through the falling tears. “William ….”
“Not William,” he grit, turning a furious gaze fully at her. “Not. William.” A sob escaped her and she covered her mouth as his head shook more. “Don’t cry for him. Don’t.” His mouth turned down in a hard line. “William doesn’t belong with you. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Stop it,” she gasped, his words making her sick. “Stop this William.” “I’m not William,” he roared, making her scramble back. “He told you how sick he is, you heard him. You heard him, you heard how sick he is, Rosie.” His face became a mask of confusion.
“It’s not his fault,” she barely said.
“Bullshit,” he yelled, turning to grip the edge of the tub, facing her. His bloody chest heaved before he said softer, “Bullshit, Rosie, okay?” He shook his head a little. “William isn’t innocent. William is not innocent. You heard him, he loves his filth, he loves his sickness. He wants to bring you into it. He wants to kill you with it. Suffocate anything good in you, that’s what he’ll do, that’s what he does, see?”
Rosie couldn’t keep her head from shaking as she kept her hand over her mouth.
“You chose Josh,” he said now, brows drawn. “You did. You told William, remember? You chose me.”
“Don’t do this,” she warned. “You can’t do this, William.”
He jerked up a piece of glass and put it on his arm. “Are you seriously … seeing William?” he asked in disbelief.
Rosie shot her hand toward him when blood dripped. “Stop it,” she shrieked.
“I’ll cut him out Rosie, I can.”
“Oh my God,” she barely wailed, moving closer on her knees, afraid of what he might do. “Please stop, please?”
“He can’t stay here, he can’t,” he said, shaking his head as he continued to drag the glass.
“Stop it,” she shrieked, launching at him, shoving him into the tub. “Don’t you touch him! Don’t hurt him. Don’t!”
He stared at her, appearing confused and disgusted. “You … you’re defending him? Defending that piece of sh—”
She slapped him across the face. “Don’t you fucking say it, don’t you fucking say one mean word against him,” she seethed, pointing a shaking finger in his face.
He slowly stood and Rosie’s gaze followed his bloody, naked body as he rose. She stared up into his face, twisted in fury, moving to stand. “How could you defend him,” he whispered, his nostrils flaring rapidly. “You heard him,” he said as Rosie faced him. “You heard what he wanted.” He stepped half way out of the tub and she took a step back. “He wants to drown you, Rosie. He wants to bury you in his sickness, he wants to love you to death,” he spat, stepping out of the tub. “Is that what you want?” he asked.
The sink pressed into her as he continued forward with a look of incredulity. Like he’d read her entirely wrong all this time, like she was as sick as the man he loathed.
“I can help you,” she whispered shakily, holding on to the sink behind her. “You and me, we can work through anything,” she promised.
He suddenly gripped her face with one hand and held a shard of glass near her eye. “This is William, Rosie. Are you sure you love him? Are you? This is pathetic William. He wants all the sick things,” he shuddered next to her face, pressing his body into hers. “He wants to bring you into that darkness, Rosie. You really want that? Do you?” His voice strained with disbelief.
He released her jaw and grabbed her hair at the back and pulled, forcing her to look up. “You chose, Rosie. You had already chosen.”
He eased the glass toward his face and pressed the tip into his cheek. Slowly, he pulled it over his skin and all Rosie saw was William. William being hurt, always being hurt. Always the blame, always the broken, nobody worth anything.
Fury erupted in her, and she screamed long and loud right in his face. “I lied!” she cried, over and over. “I lied! I lied, I lied.” She banged his bloody chest with her fists. “I lied like you! I choose William. I choose William, I don’t choose you! You can’t take him; I won’t let you!”
Her fingers curled around something sharp and she gripped it, shoving him back until he was against the wall. “Don’t you dare hurt him. Don’t you fucking touch him.” She growled, like an animal, a large piece of glass shaking next to his face. “I’ll kill you,” she heaved between sobs. “Don’t you hurt him.”
They stared at one another for endless seconds, and his hand slowly raised, trembling next to her face. He stroked her cheek with his fingers, the barest touch. “Rosie,” he whispered. “Sweet Rosie.” His fingers shook with the gentlest caress. “Don’t cry, my sweet Rosie. I’m right here.”
“William,” she gushed on a loud sob, the glass shaking in her hand as she fought to breathe. “William,” she shrieked.
Agony gripped his face as his eyes searched hers. “Rosie,” he breathed, his gaze roaming hungrily as though he was seeing her for the first time. When his eyes returned to hers, she wailed at finally seeing him. Her William.
A long wail wrenched out of her as the glass fell to the floor. “I love William.”
A single gasp came with his strong arms around her so tight. “I’m here beautiful Rosie. I’m here. I have you.”
“William,” she sobbed over and over as he stroked her hair. “I love William. I love you.”
His ravaged her face with hot kisses, gasping the beautiful confession over and over, “I love you Rosie. I love you Rosie.” He suddenly gripped her face tight in both hands and devoured her mouth in a passionate kiss. “I’m so sorry Rosie. I’m sorry I’m so broken.”
Rosie grabbed his face back, hunger from a lifetime, her lifetime, his lifetime, the lifetime that stretched before them, erupting inside her. Her nails dug into his skin and she kissed him with equal hunger, equal fervor. “I need you William. I need you so much. I need you now, right now.”
Forty-Two
William
He needed her too. He needed her with such force that he couldn’t get enough of her as he held her to him, kissing her. Him … William, not Josh. She kissed William. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her mouth. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t know … I can’t stand it anymore.”
A dizzying desire burned him as she returned his kisses. “We can do this. You and me, okay?” She pulled away enough to look up at him. Her eyes filled with that beauty and softness he loved about her. That sincerity in her gaze she held just for Josh, but now him. Maybe … maybe she had seen him all along?
The question came suddenly and heated his chest, terrifying yet demanding he know. “Do you … still want me?”
Her mouth felt like a hot storm on his, kissing with more hunger than he’d ever seen or known. “Oh God, William,” she whispered. “I love you, yes, I do.”
Her hot confession burned clear to the centre of him, opening something inside that made him need to feel it again and again
. He needed to feel her and everything that was Rosie. He slid a hand around her neck, smearing blood across her flawless skin as he opened his mouth and slid it up and down the silky skin of her neck
“William …” she whispered weakly, her head falling back.
“Don’t make me stop,” he breathed against her ear before sucking across her jaw.
“We need to clean you up,” she said. He pulled back and their gazes locked. The heat flaring in her pretty gaze stole his breath, his mind.
Maybe she saw that he needed this. William needed this. The cuts didn’t matter; the blood could be cleaned later. He needed her. He needed to have her now, he needed her to cleanse inside him.
He wiped her cheeks, wet with tears. “Don’t cry for me, Rosie.”
She cupped his face. “You deserve someone to cry for you.” She ran her hand down his bare chest, her fingers touching the gouges. The slashes that were meant to free him from the pain of her leaving. “Let me love you,” she whispered raising her eyes back to his.
He opened his mouth to warn her, fighting to dislodge it from his throat. “I’ll ruin you,” he finally forced out”
She shook her head quickly. “I trust you, William.”
He stood speechless at those amazing words. The way she looked up at him with such earnest in her eyes, the conviction in her soft voice. She believed it. She truly believed he wouldn’t hurt her, and he never would on purpose. Maybe her believing was enough. Maybe she could move the stars and make it true.
“Trust me too.” She leaned up on her toes and placed a soft, long kiss against his lips. “We’re going to fix all of this. Every bit.”
She pulled back from him and reached down, sliding glass off the edge of the tub. William watched her, his heart pounding. His skin burned with the fire of his anger, every gash he had sliced into his skin.
She turned the taps on and pushed the curtain to the side. She held her hand to him. “Come on. Sit here.”
All he had to do was take it. Take her hand and let her lead him into the light, free him from this lifelong darkness. He raised his eyes to hers, searching to see. Was it really happening? Was she really offering that miracle to him? She could. She could do anything. But would she face the shadows in his mind when they came to steal everything from him?
He watched in an almost detached awe as he placed his hand in hers.
He sat on the tub ledge and looked up at her. “My sweet William,” she said softly, opening the palm of his hand. He looked at the deep slices across his flesh. She ran her fingers along the edge, a whispered touch that stole his breath. He watched as she got a wash cloth from the shelf and wet it in the running water. She began with that hand. She began on the deepest cut, carefully wiping at the dried blood, rinsing the cloth when it became saturated with the crimson sorrow. She cleaned every part of him the same and William never closed his eyes, not once. He had to see that it was real and true. See his Rosie really touching him. Loving him.
When she was done, he sat there in silent awe. He’d never been this bare before. She had seen all of him, but to see like this, his cuts and wounds, all of his scars right there in the open … for her.
He eyed her, his breaths coming too fast, his fears trying to drown him.
She unbuttoned the front of her summer dress, fingers trembling. He held tight to her gaze as she slowly slid the dress down, getting naked with him. “You’re so beautiful,” he couldn’t keep from saying, as the dress fell quietly to the floor.
“So are you,” she breathed. William let his gaze take the impossible gift in. She was giving herself to him wasn’t she? To him. To William. Without requiring anything in return. William’s pulse quickened at the sight of her.
He let go then, let himself lunge for her. His arms wrapped her tight, his chest crushing into her, his mouth crashing down, claiming Rosie as his … as William’s. God, she was so perfect. So perfect.
His hunger came in ragged breaths, swelling his heart. The scent of her, the feel of her against him knotted his stomach a hundred times over as she pushed her hands into his hair and pulled him harder against her.
He moved her against the wall and held her there pushing his leg between hers until her mouth parted with the cry of his name. The sound shattered the darkness around him and he rained hot kisses along her skin to her breast He took her mound in his hand and held it tight, sucking her nipple with a triumphant growl into his mouth. He took it in deeply, moaning as he circled around and pressed her buttocks, rocking her, grinding her against his hardness.
. “William,” she panted, her arms going around his neck, fighting to climb him.
He grazed her nipple with his teeth, working the hard nub with his tongue as he turned, putting his back to the wall. He helped her onto his waist and held her up
“Oh God, William … stop.”
He froze in sudden fear. “What is it?” His eyes searched hers, his heart ready to lurch with heartbreak at what was coming.
“I just need to know one thing, okay? Just this.”
“Okay …”
“Whatever the answer is. We can work through it. But I need to know.”
William held his breath, readying himself for what was about to come.
“Who is Maria?”
Epilogue
Rosie
Rosie sat on her hands to keep from chewing her nails down to bloody nubs. She would breathe when the plane landed, and she saw William—waiting for her. Real. Not a dream. Or a mean part of the week long nightmare she’d spent in America.
Her mind went about with its frantic search for rest, flying over the huge cesspool that life had suddenly become. There was no damn place to rest her weary thoughts. Everywhere and anywhere she attempted to set down, festered with past and present unfortunate events. And now future. All of it could end her world. No, would end it.
Shut. Up. Rosie.
God she needed to survive the plane trip, that’s all. One hurdle at a time. Getting back to England and seeing William was still hers. She had to believe that every rumble under her ass did not spell doom, it did not spell fate coming to take it all away.
There was only one thing she didn’t want fate fucking with, and that was William. It could have her family, it could have her job, her reputation, her friends, but not him. That alone caused her to sit there in the seat for two hours, rigid with terror. Because sure as shit, if she wanted anything, then fate was a’comin’ for it. Oh? What’s this? A little girl with dreams that came true? Tsk tsk. Can’t have that.
Maria.
Shit. Her stomach rolled with nausea at the name. She’d stupidly asked William about the woman and the distraught look on his beautiful face had made her sick. “You don’t have to tell me now,” she’d said. “We have time.” Well, that time was when she returned. That was his vow and now she was sorry she’d ever asked. She could go without knowing who she was. Especially now, with everything that happened in America.
Her mind strayed to her purse and went straight to it. It …the storm that would tear her and William apart. Terror hit her for the hundredth time, the impact of what was coming, bringing a retch. She’d been to the closet-bathroom four times already. She closed her eyes as corresponding images that went with the nightmare swam in her head.
She panted for air, blinking them away as her hammering pulse fought to suffocate her. Please God. Please don’t take this from me. Please. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. You know I am. I’m begging. I’m begging you to somehow make this work out. Please help me, help William.
Help us.
****
The End (ish)
Or as the Brittish-American might say it …
To Be Continued
The End
Thank you so much for reading. Please feel free to drop me an email or visit me on Facebook.
Mason
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https://www.facebook.com/msabre3
Sabre, Mason, Cuts Like An Angel
