Page 2 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You

I search blindly across the ground for anything I can use, anything at all, desperate to push him off me.

My hand closes around a stone, and without a second thought I swing it at the back of his head.

The crack when it connects with his skull makes my stomach heave, and a second later I feel the warmth of blood spilling down his neck and onto my face and chest, enough to make me gag.

He falters and looks at me with such hatred it seems impossible that one person could hold it all. He collapses on top of me, his weight so heavy it crushes my body into the ground until I can’t move.

For a moment I lay still, trapped beneath his weight and struggling to breathe, the faint echo of music from the party reaches me from afar, however, my ragged breath overpowers it.

My hands shove at his shoulders with everything I have until, at last, I manage to push him off me and his body falls lifeless at my side.

I drag myself back into a sitting position, my legs barely holding me. My breathing is shallow, my pulse pounds in myears. I look at him lying so still, not moving, not even a little. Panic rises in me because this can’t be real.

It isn’t real.

I refuse to believe I’ve done this.

Did I kill him?

Oh God.

I force myself up, my legs shaking, and instinct takes over, pushing me into a run. I tear past the trees, branches scratch at my arms, every stone and thorn cut into my feet, and only then do I notice they are bare. Whether I lost my heels in the struggle or somewhere along the way, I can’t tell.

I don’t know how long I keep going, only that I don’t stop until the trees break open onto a road, faintly lit in the dark.

In my disorientation I stumble onto the asphalt, and a horn blasts so loud it seems to tear straight through me. The tyres screech as the headlights flare, so bright I can’t see anything beyond them, and before I can even process what is happening the force slams into me, knocking me off my feet and pulling everything into darkness.

Chapter 1

Ophelia

The moment I open my eyes I know something is wrong.

It’s in the silence, in the way the air feels stale. My temples pound so hard my vision ripples. I press my palms to my forehead, willing the pain to ease, but it doesn’t. It sits there behind my eyes, a throb that makes my stomach turn.

I blink up at the ceiling and take in the crown moulding, the pale cream walls, the light fixture with its gold trim. I know this room, it’s my dorm at the academy.

Slowly I push myself upright in the bed, every part of my body aching. My feet burn, and when I glance down in confusion I freeze.

They’re bloodied, streaks dried across my heels, the skin raw and split in places. My dress, what looks as though it was meant to be white satin, is soaked with red. I drag in a breath and the air feels thick with the scent of blood, metallic and copper, impossible to mistake.

I try to think, to remember what day it is, to piece together the night before—where I went, who I was with—because looking at the state I’m in, I clearly wasn’t here having a quiet night with the girls.

But the moment I reach for it, pressure slams behind my eyes and I suck in a breath through clenched teeth to stop a sound from slipping out.

I can’t remember anything, and the harder I push the worse it gets, which unsettles me more than I want to admit.

I have no memory of ever putting this dress on, if anything, I can’t even recall owning it. My mind is a complete void, offering nothing, no clarity, only silence.

I ease my legs over the side of the bed and wince as the soles of my feet meet the cold hardwood floor.

As I begin to stand, a wave of dizziness washes over me. I grip the edge of the mattress to steady myself, waiting as the room tilts. My pulse races, uneven and far too fast. My hands are cold, alarmingly so.

Something faint brushes my cheek. I lift a hand to my face and when I pull my fingers back there’s blood.

My chest tightens.

I’m hurt, I’m bleeding. It’s on my face, my hands, my dress, everywhere. And I have no ideawhy.