Page 13 of Kill Me

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“Trust me, you couldn’t get better. Now, can we take a walk to the nearest safe space where we can get warm and hydrated and have a conversation?”

“You’re not going to talk me out of it, you know?” I know what I said to you earlier, but he doesn’t need to know that. Maybe this is what, or who, I’ve been waiting for. Maybe he’s my way out. Maybe he’s my chance to figure out the truth about what happened and save me from myself.

“I’m not trying to. I just want to listen. If I bore you, I promise I’ll bring you back and call the ambulance once you’ve jumped. I might even film it and sell it to the papers or get the social media views that everyone shouts about and go viral. Then I can become an influencer and retire.”

“You’re fucking morbid. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Perks of being an official member of the DPC.”

“The DPC?”

“The Dead Parents Club.” He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads and should have known exactly what he was talking about.

“For fuck’s sake. Unfortunately for me, I can't say I’m a member. This is either going to be the best decision I’ve ever made or the worst.”

His eyes show he heard what I said but that he’s choosing not to acknowledge it, yet. “Oh, it’ll be the best, I promise you that.”

“Is this how you act in your sessions? Flirty and suggestive?”

“Who’s being flirty and suggestive? Not me.” He lifts his arms up in a shrug, trying to maintain his innocence.

“Yes, you…”

“Ermmm, it’s not my fault you took it that way; it says more about you than me.”

“Charming. Are you sure you don’t want me to just hop off the ledge?" I point my finger over my shoulder and make out like I’m going to step towards it.

“Don’t you fucking dare. You still need to introduce me to Herpes.” He stalks the two steps between us to grab hold of my arm.

Fuck. I forgot I said that out loud.

“Can I at least know the name of my future murderer?” I rock from side to side on the balls of my feet, pulling my sleeves down over my hands and playing with the frayed edge to try and ground myself.

“Harley, the name is Harley.” He smiles at me. It’s devastating. Like the moment in Dirty Dancing when Johnny smiles at Baby in that scene in his room before he takes her virginity.

“No fucking way…” My mouth gapes.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re a Harley, too?” He looks unsure for a second, like he’s preparing himself for what’s about to come out of my mouth.

“No, even better. I’m a Quinn.”

“Well, that explains everything.” He chuckles to himself, a smile spreading across his face, one side covered by the darkness and the other accentuated by the lone streetlamp at the side of the bridge.

“Come on, Quinn. Let’s battle the demons together.”

Chapter Twelve

Harley - Present Day

New Divide – Linkin Park

This may not be very professional of me to say, but watching Quinn walk in front of me, with her hips swaying unintentionally and her ass wobbling, screaming at me to spank it, the things I could do to this woman are fucking ungodly.

I don’t realise until she starts to walk away from the edge of the bridge that I’m holding my breath. And even in the shadows of the trees as we walk back towards the main road and down to the local late-night café , her beauty dazzles me. Her hair flames different dimensions of colour in the dusk light as she walks. Tendrils of it fall out of the messy bun on top of her head, framing her face. The blue eyes that could quite literally see into my soul if I let her look like they’re a different shade of blue based on the harshness of the sunlight, and the freckles that dust her face are like pieces of a puzzle I want to connect together just to see what the prize is. Her waist is accentuated by her curves, almost in the perfect apple shape, and it makes me want to take the biggest bite to test its sweetness. To some, she’s dressed in an oversized hoodie, leggings and trainers, but to me, she’s like the perfect present you want to unwrap. It’s clear to see that she has no idea just how exceptionally beautiful she is or how her humour could reel people in and have them in stitches, and it has me wondering what the fuck has happened to her.

I’ve never felt like this in this situation. Fifty per cent of me is telling me I’m a fucking idiot, and one call from her could have my licence revoked, but the other half of me wants to believe my parents sent her to me. Or me to her. Whichever way you want to look at it. What are the chances? I jokingly ask my parents to send me a carrier pigeon or a magpie, and she stands there and fucking salutes one before schooling me on my ignorance of magpies?