Page 118 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

My smile disappeared.

"I just never thought you'd want to."

His face changed. Immediately. The anger vanished. Only horror remained. His mouth opened.

"Seraphina…"

But I was already stepping backwards. The cookies were still warm against my chest. I held the little box tightly, like if I squeezed hard enough it might stop my heart from falling apart.

"I hope..."

My voice trembled.

"...you never have to find out what it feels like when the people you're trying hardest to be kind to... make you feel like you're impossible to like."

I turned before he could answer. Bare feet carried me down the porch steps. Across the gravel. Into the gathering dusk. I never looked back. Because if I had… I wasn't sure I would've had the strength to keep walking.

The kitchen was dark when the screen door sighed shut behind me. I didn't fall apart. Not immediately. I walked to the counter as though nothing had happened, setting the white bakery box carefully beside the sugar bowl. The ribbon was still perfect. One of the cookies shifted inside.

Crack.

A tiny sound. Ridiculously small. Funny how something so insignificant can become the thing that breaks you. I stared at the box. One second. Two. Three.

Then everything inside me gave way.

The sob hit without warning, ripping through my chest so violently my knees buckled beneath me. My shoulder struck the cupboard door as I slid to the floor, both hands flying to my face as though I could somehow hold myself together by force alone.

I couldn't breathe.

Not properly.

Each breath caught halfway, breaking apart into another helpless sob. I still smelled him. Pine. Rain. Smoke. Safety.

Now every breath of it hurts.

"He's an idiot!"

Gerald shouted from the mantelpiece, pacing furious little circles with all the authority of a ceramic dictator.

"A complete, monumental idiot with a badge!"

"He has the emotional intelligence of damp drywall,"

Frank muttered from the windowsill.

"He has less."

"He certainly communicates less."

"I've met paving stones with healthier coping mechanisms."

Frank nodded solemnly.

"Bricks."

"What?"

"Bricks apologize."