Her eyes slowly come back to mine. “Yes, I do. It’s my life, Liam. My decision.”
“But I fucking love you.” I slam my hand against my chest. “Doesn’t that mean I at least get a say? Or do you have to love me back for that to be the case?”
She closes her eyes, as though the words are painful for her to hear.
Good.
I want emotion from her. I don’t want this dead-in-the-eyes look that she has at the moment.
Because she’s not dead.
And she never will be if I have anything to do with it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes opening back up.
“Don’t be sorry!” I cry. “Just don’t fucking do this.”
She turns her face away from me, like she’s dismissing me, and that sets me off again.
“Jesus Christ, Taylor! What is happening here? Why would you do this to yourself?”
She presses her lips together in a tight line, telling me that I’m further losing her.
I need to calm down.
I pull in a few breaths, trying to slow my racing heart. “Please,” I say gently. “Please just talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Her voice is stone cold.
“I’ll beg if I have to. If that’s what you need to change your mind. I’ll get down on my fucking knees and beg.” I move around the bed, forcing her to look at me. “I’m not asking to be in your life. I’m not asking you to love me. I just want you to live. I could live a life without you, knowing that you were out there, breathing and alive and happy. Just don’t ask me to let you die.”
She stares down at her hands that are in her lap, fingers curling around the blanket covering her. “Liam…please don’t do this. I’ve made my decision. I made it a long time ago. Long before I met you.”
“But you did meet me. And we spent time together. I know you don’t love me, but I know you feel something for me. You can’t deny that. And it has to count for something.”
Her head is shaking, slow and steady. “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t say it differently to the other times she’s said sorry. But something is there this time that tells me there is no changing her mind.
I’ve lost her.
Or maybe I never had her at all.
I stand here, numb, just staring at her. My feelings for her and all the confusion and hurt and frustration I feel builds inside me like a monster.
And I let him out.
“I won’t watch you die.” My voice is as bitter and harsh as my words are meant to be.
She looks up at me. Clear eyes meet mine. “I would never ask you to do that.”
I don’t recognize her in this moment. Her eyes are completely empty of emotion. Blank and glassy.
Taylor’s eyes have always been full of something. Whether it was the sadness she always thought she was hiding. Or those rare moments when she would let that sadness slip away and allow herself to be happy. Or those times when her eyes were filled with so much lust and longing for me that I couldn’t breathe while looking at her.
But whether her eyes were filled with sadness or happiness or lust, there was always life in them.
Or maybe there never was. I was just seeing what I wanted to see because I wanted her so badly.
“You need to make me understand, Taylor. Because I don’t understand why you are choosing to die.”
“You don’t need to understand.”
“Yes, I do!” I’m yelling now, and I don’t care. Because I don’t know what else to do, how else to get through to her. “I need to understand why you don’t want to live anymore! You’re asking me to stand back and let you die. You’re asking me to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life. Then, give me the reason.”
Her lips come together, her eyes closing on a long blink. “It’s complicated.”
“Then, uncomplicate it.”
“I can’t.” She shakes her head.
I explode. “You have to! Because I fucking deserve to know the truth!”
“Because I owe them!” she cries, sitting forward. “I have to die because I owe it to them!” The moment the words leave her mouth, she winces in pain. Her brow creases, and her hand comes up to her head, the heel of it pressing against her forehead, as she closes her eyes.
“Taylor…are you okay?” I keep my voice soft, but inside, I’m panicking and afraid and ready to call for the doctor.
“I’m fine,” she whispers. She lays her head back on the pillow, her hand falling away to lie on the bed beside her, her eyes opening.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry for all of this. I didn’t ever mean for you to see me this way.”
“What you mean is, you didn’t ever mean for me to find out.”
She exhales a tired-sounding breath, her fingers curling into the bed covers again.
Her silence gives me my answer.
My heart is aching with every hard beat it takes. I wrap my arms around my chest. I back up, leaning against the windowsill. “So, what were you going to do? You were just going to leave here and go back to Boston? And then what?”
Her eyes come to mine, the answer clear in them.
Die.