Page 97 of Under Your Scars

“No.”

“Just give me five minutes” he begs, pulling his cellphone out of his jeans.

I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

He gulps and then taps his phone screen several times, pulling up a video. He places the phone in my hands and presses play.

It’s a strange point of view. There’s a timestamp in the bottom corner. 9:15. It’s bumpy footage of someone walking on a rooftop in circles aimlessly as it rains.

“There’s a camera in my mask,” he says quietly. The strange point of view makes sense. Not quite eye level, and not quite chest level. There’s no sound, just several long minutes of a whole lot of nothing. I drop the phone to the counter and step back.

“Elena,” he begs. “Just watch.”

I rest my elbow on the counter and then rest my chin in my hand, watching the video bored out of my mind.

Something about the footage begins to look vaguely familiar.

Then it hits me. This is my neighborhood. My old one. My spine goes rigid, and I stand up straight, still staring down at the phone. “This is the night we met, isn’t it?”

His silence is loud.

I watch the footage carefully, my heart falling to the floor when he pulls out a black and silver pistol. The mag is empty. He checks the chamber. There’s a single bullet inside.

I feel sick to my stomach. This is the moment he was getting ready to shoot himself. My arms erupt into goosebumps and tears prick in my eyes.

His shaky hand puts the gun to his temple. He goes unnaturally still before he glances over the ledge of the building he’s standing on, just in time to see me get cornered by three men in the alley.

I can’t bring myself to look away from the video, not even when he puts a bullet in the skulls of those men and their lifeless bodies crumble to the ground.

He stares down at me. I’m soaking wet from the rain. Shaking. Tears stream down my cheeks as I try to cover myself with my ripped top. His hand reaches up to gently stroke my cheek and he pushes a wet strand of hair out of my face. I run away from him, and he watches from the shadows until I’m safely inside my apartment building.

I cover my mouth with my hand and finally look away from the phone, crying softly. I don’t even know why I’m crying at this point. For him? For me? For us? It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Not anymore.

That girl in the video—the one he tried so hard to get to love him? She doesn’t exist. She’s gone. Replaced by this scarred, broken version of me.

“You never told me you stayed until I went inside.”

“I told you I would make sure no one else followed you.”

He did say that. I remember. At the time, I thought he was just saying it to make me feel safe enough to go home. I have no doubts in my heart that he would have killed anyone else who approached me that night without hesitation.

“Now you’ve experienced the exact moment you saved my life from your eyes, and from mine.”

I turn around to face him, and the icy blue of his eyes is filled with a tenderness I’ve never seen before. A sob wrecks through me, and despite my severe aversion to touch, and my anger towards him, I throw myself into his arms and weep into the curve of his neck. His hands snake around my waist and he pulls me so tightly into his chest that it hurts my ribs. I can’t bring myself to care. My skin tingles and crawls uncomfortably at the sensation of being touched, but the violent tremors wrecking through my body are no match for his iron grip on me.

“Your parents died on September 6, 1989, and we met thirty years later, on September 6, 2019. That’s why you said you started believing in soulmates when you met me.”

I feel a sob wreck through him too. “Do you understand now why I can’t let you go?”

“Do you understand why I can’t stay?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t fight me this time. I feel him nod against my neck.

“I’m going home with my parents tomorrow. Promise me you won’t hurt yourself.”

He’s quiet for a long time as we hold each other. Only after I feel him nod do I pull away and leave the room without another word.

CHAPTER 27