Page 159 of His Trick

She had hope.

And all I had was this fucking tux, worn by a man staring at me in the mirror I couldn’t recognize anymore.

Carrington would laugh at how ridiculous it looked on me.

I could feel his ghost even now, smirking in the corner while shaking his beautiful black hair.

No one saw me break but him. Xanthy had smiled when she saw the cracks, choosing to pretend I wasn’t bleeding, and enough kisses and praise would make it all go away.

I told them all I was fine. I even made myself believe it for a few seconds at a time.

Then I’d walk back into this room and see that damn duffel bag in my closet.

What’s inside, Carrington? Jackets? Gym clothes? A dead animal or person you left for me?

I couldn’t bring myself to open it.

The night Carrington died, I took his body to his sanctuary, the lake house he only whispered about. I held him to my chest, kissing his dead lips with my final goodbye as I carried him like a bride to the lake.

He never wanted to be a spectacle for any news reporters and didn’t want anyone to know he was gone.

He just wanted peace in death.

I remembered the lake house was his own graveyard, how fitting for me to gather him up in my arms, leaving Xanthy passed out on the ground. I didn’t know how I found myself taking him back to his safe place one last time.

The ground felt like it was tilting with each step, just a little.

Yet not enough to fall.

Just enough to remind me, it should be me.

I was the one who killed him.

The rain poured harder than any other damn night with us, soaking me from head to toe.

I didn’t know how to say goodbye. I didn’t know how to let him go.

But I did.

I wrapped his body, weighing the tarp down, and watched him sink that night.

He was gone, by my own hands.

My knife.

I couldn’t let go of the stupid duffel bag.

I shouldn’t have gone back to his apartment before the cops got there.

I shouldn’t have opened the door he left half cracked, like he knew I’d find my way eventually.

I shouldn’t have gone through his stuff and kept that damn bag.

But I did.

I always fucking did the wrong thing when it came to Carrington Harding.

“Shiloh? Are you almost ready? The reception is starting! Don’t make Xanthy wait too long.”