Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“She’s there… They have her… Fuck! They have her, Nate…” I try to straighten up again. “L-let me talk to the police so they can find her…”
“Stay fucking still.” He easily pushes me back against the mattress. “I’ll get them here. You need to rest now.”
My uncle’s twin appears by his side and it’s then that I realize I’m seeing double. I grab on to his jacket sleeve, my tongue feeling heavy against the roof of my mouth. “Naomi…I need to find her…”
“We will. Just calm down.”
“Nao…” I murmur in my haze, blinking, and just like magic, she appears right beside me.
She’s wearing the shorts and sports bra from the cell. Her black hair that resembles the most beautiful nights sticks to the sides of her face and her eyes shine with unshed tears.
“Baby…” I reach a hand for her, but she flinches back as if disgusted with me.
She shakes her head once and stares down. I follow her line of vision and freeze.
Blood trickles between her legs, splashing her thighs in a deep red.
“Nao…?”
“It’s over, Sebastian.” Her voice is low, haunted.
Fucking wrong.
“No…no…”
“It’s done.”
“I don’t fucking care, baby. I’ll be there. I’ll fucking kill them all.”
“It’s over…it’s over…” she repeats in a chant as more blood slides down her legs, soaking her white shoes red.
I reach out for her, wanting to hug her close, even though pain slashes through me. The blood leaving her body feels like my own. I’m bleeding out, holding on to life by a mere fucking thread.
The moment my skin meets hers, she turns into smoke.
Thick.
Foggy.
Untouchable.
And just like that, my world is painted black.
12
Akira
Dear Yuki-Onna,
I think we’re at a point in our relationship where we just cut to the chase without any introductions.
So here it goes.
I told you not to ghost me.
I made sure to type it in big letters so you’d understand there’s no damn point in ghosting me, and yet, that’s exactly what you did.
You fucking ghosted me.
You stopped writing to me as if that was your right, as if you have the full liberty in our relationship, friendship, toxic-ship, or whatever-the-fuck-ship.
But that’s not how it’s supposed to go, my dear Yuki-Onna. You don’t have a say in how far we go or when it ends.
You don’t have the right to disappear on me after I put up with your selfishness and bad decision-making. You put up with my asshole dickish behavior too, so it’s not like you happened to have a wake-up call all of a sudden.
But now that I think about it, maybe that’s exactly what happened.
Maybe you stopped replying to my letters because you were finally hit by other hard truths. Who did the hitting?
Maybe I should be friends with them. I’m in the market for a different pen pal since my current one is ignoring me.
You do realize it’s a dick move, right? And here I thought I was the asshole in this whole thing.
We should go back to the drawing board and create a different division of roles.
Also, it’s so unfair that I listened to you for three years, and just when I dropped the mask and started getting comfortable in this unorthodox setting, you up and disappeared.
And then you deny that you’re selfish.
And then, you call me the asshole for not being your yes-man.
How hypocritical is that?
Spoiler alert. Very.
Also, I’m not doing well, thank you for not asking. I kind of hit the rock bottom in my life for the first time in a long time.
I’m at a phase where I hate everything and everyone, and wish I could be the only person on earth just because it’s better if everyone else died instead of me.
Yes, it’s destructive thinking, but I’ve always been that way. Generally cynical and absolutely fucking pessimistic.
It balances out the fake pessimism that you use as a façade to hide your natural optimism.
But I’m a true pessimist who doesn’t think twice before offing his damn good vibes.
I think I should call it what it is: I’m having an existential crisis. It’s so strong that I don’t even know who or what I am anymore.
Maybe I’m a nobody.
Or maybe I’m just an asshole.
Either way, my reason for existing is fracturing and I can’t keep it in one piece.
You must be laughing at my expense. Go ahead. You have every right to after everything I said.
But that means you have to stop fucking ghosting me and actually write back.
Don’t even believe for a second that this is the end. I might be having a crisis, but I’ll still be the Akira you love to hate.
Write back.
Even a word would do.
Your other half you had no idea existed until now,
Akira
13
Sebastian
When I wake up next, I’m bombarded by everyone.
The doctors. My grandparents.
The police.
They’re the only ones I want to talk to. I didn’t blink twice when the attending physician told me that the infection in my shoulder had spread and I might not be able to play football anymore.