Page 61 of The Death of Kisses

I swear there were eight—layers of torment etched into her skin, burning scars I couldn’t comprehend. My stomach twisted into knots. Anna never had those…did she?

With a trembling hand, I reached out and swept her shirt upward, my gaze fixated on her bare thigh—a canvas of pain I had somehow missed until now.

Why hadn’t I seen them? Why?

50

CLICK CLICK

Present day - November 22nd - Town of Ashwood - Population 1,576 - 18 yrs old

Charlie didn’t look like herself. There was something haunting in her gaze, something dark and unfathomable as she stared at my thigh with a fixated intensity that sent chills down my spine. The cigarette lingered between her lips, but her hand moved gently, almost reverently, as if she was trying to imprint her touch onto my skin. She looked into my eyes, yet it was as if I was gazing into a stranger’s soul—total unfamiliarity, a cold detachment that pierced my heart.

In an instant, her hand came down and extinguished the ember, and my screams erupted from my core—raw, guttural, and filled with pain. My thigh searing with agony, a red-hot burn that seemed to liquefy my very flesh. Tears spilled uncontrollably down my face as I pulled at the ropes, each agonizing second stretching into eternity, trying to break free from the unbearable heat that threatened to consume me.

“Charlie,” I sobbed uncontrollably, my voice breaking, as the cigarette slipped from her fingers and fell useless to the ground.

There was nothing—no response, no mercy—only the harsh, cold clink of metal as she lit another cigarette, as if stringing me along with her indifference.

A chilling dread swept through me as my skin turned icy, my mind trying to shut out the searing pain that clawed its way from my leg into my brain. It hit without warning—no mercy, no alarm—just her ruthless hand shoving the burning cigarette deep into my thigh.

My skin, cold and clammy, hissed in protest as I inhaled a deep breath, shaking with agony. Anything—anything—to silence the scream threatening to burst from my lungs, to drown out the unbearable pain.

My head bowed in overwhelming defeat as I heard the cruel click of the lighter. My body shivered uncontrollably, drained of every ounce of strength, as I brushed against the darkness of her intent.

“No. No. No. Please, don’t,” I choked out through tears and sobs my voice breaking.

Silence.

I clenched my teeth so fiercely that coppery blood flooded my mouth, a bitter reminder of my helplessness. My scream was swallowed by the unforgiving forest, drowned in the searing burn and relentless agony. The pain clawed through me, vicious and unyielding, as if the universe itself conspired to amplify my suffering, to tear me apart with every cruel second.

Countless times I heard the relentless click, each powerful snap etched painfully into my soul. The lighter’s cruel sound haunted my every thought, a dark symphony of torment that she ruthlessly played on my exhausted body. The pain was so overwhelming—just enough to remind me I was still alive—yet all I longed for was to escape it all, to finally be free from this agony and be dead.

Every small, deliberate touch from Charlie shattered me piece by piece.

“I love you, Charlie,” I whimpered through teary, broken words. “Why are you doing this to me?” My voice cracked and faltered as the tears spilled over, helpless. She stepped away, leaving me raw, exposed, fragile—a ghost of myself. Her eyes shimmered with a twisted satisfaction or maybe a chilling pride; I couldn't tell anymore. All I knew was the burning ache inside me, longing to be free from her grasp, to vanish into nothingness. To disappear forever.

I prayed with every ounce of my broken soul that the cancer would claim me, that death would come swiftly and mercifully. At least if I died of illness, I wouldn’t have to die at her hands. I ached for release, for an end to this nightmare—anything but the unbearable pain of her love turned into cruelty.

51

DON’T CRY

Present day - November 22nd - Town of Ashwood - Population 1,576 - 18 yrs old

“There, now no one else can ever hurt you again,” I said gently, a tender smile softly spreading across my lips as I stepped back, gazing at the scars.

They ran in perfect, unforgiving lines across her inner thigh—eight deep, jagged reminders of battles she never chose to fight. A silent testament to the pain she carried within.

A sorrow so deep I could feel it in my bones—an ache that Lilly would carry with her always.

She wept softly, as if I was the one who had inflicted those wounds, tears falling like silent confessions. But I didn’t do this—he did. That man. The one who shattered her soul and raped her. I never wanted her to cry. All I longed for was to see her feel good again, to feel whole and alive. There was a need for her to be my Lilly—my radiant spirit, glowing with smiles and laughter, free from pain.

I approached her again, my heart pounding with desperation, my eyes fixed on her quivering lips tinged blue from the cold. I tilted my head, to really see her—to understand the hurt hidden beneath her gaze. Her blonde hair was soaked with sweat, curling tenderly at the ends, and her nose was red from the cold. She looked at me with such vulnerability—a soft plea that I couldn’t quite grasp, a silent cry for help I was failing to reach.

“I promise, I’ll take care of you,” I whispered. My lips pressed gently against her forehead, a silent vow, an attempt to hold onto her fragile hope.

Her sobs grew louder, each one searing into my soul, as if my touch was causing her pain, and that tore me apart inside. It was the last thing I ever wanted. I moved slowly, kissing her cheek in tender, meaningful patterns—each lingering touch seeking to convey the depth of my love. Her breath hitched, her eyes widened with sudden shock when my lips finally pressed to hers. It was reminiscent of our first time—a moment frozen in time, full of longing and unspoken promises.