Sherrilyn Kenyon - Infamous

Everyone.

Even his grandparents.

The horror of his mother’s expression … The doubt in her eyes.

And what waited for him? More loss. Either his mother or Kody. And others Ambrose refused to name. Why should he continue living when the cost of it would be their lives?

If he were dead, there would be no reason for any of them to die. That would stop it completely. It would. They would be free. His father would no longer be after him to kill him.

The pain that had lived inside him since the hour of his birth would end. I’m so sick of it all. And he was. At fifteen, he felt like a battered old man. Life was so hard. Some days it seemed like the only purpose of it was to see just how hard it could kick him. How low it could make him sink. It had needlessly slapped him senseless most days. And for what?

Why did it have to be like this? Why did people have to be so mean for no reason whatsoever? Why did they have to attack? Bring someone down?

End it.

You can control that much of your life.

Suddenly, Grim was beside him. He was dressed in a flowing black robe, his face barely visible from inside his cowl. In his hand, he held a black knife that looked like a military KA-BAR. Silently, he held it out to Nick.

One cut.

One moment of one last pain.

Everything would be over. He would hurt no more.

As Nick reached for the knife, he felt another presence beside him.

“Don’t do it, Nick. This isn’t you.” Kody. The sound of that sweet, soft voice reached out and touched him in places he didn’t fully understand. She covered his hand with hers and then laced her fingers with his. They were so soft as they slid against his skin.

“Close your eyes,” she breathed in his ear.

Without question, he obeyed. His head swam as images blurred through his mind in rapid succession. He didn’t know what he was looking at. Not until Kody kissed him.

She pulled back and laid her hand to his hot cheek. Then she spoke to him in a language he’d never heard before. Yet, he understood her words perfectly.

“There’s an enemy inside all of us, Nick, that wants to do us harm. It hates us passionately, and it wears us down with echoing insults we can’t escape. No matter what we try or what we do. It’s a never-ending playback that torments us when we’re alone. And especially at night when we’re trying to sleep and there’s no one else beside us.”

The love in her eyes scorched him as she stroked his cheek with her thumb. “But somehow our sanity returns, and drives that madness away. And we are not what that voice says we are. We’re stronger than that, and our dark, ugly interloper knows it. I think that’s why it hates us so much. Because it knows that we alone can defeat it. We can send it back to the darkest part of our nature where it belongs. Bury it so deep that we drown out those voices that hurt and torture us. It does not have to control us, and we don’t have to listen.”

She smiled up at him. “No one is immune to the dark interloper. We all feel that those wounds won’t heal. That they go too deep and let so much blood that it floods our souls with utter agony. That we have screwed up beyond repair. But it’s not true. What we have, Nick, is one life. And every day of it is the richest blessing. The bad times teach us lessons about ourselves and others. But most of all, they show us just how strong we are. For we survive what destroys a lesser being, and every day that we live is victory over that interloper. You and I are like creatures. We are not sheep to be slaughtered. We are fighters, and in the midst of our darkest battles, we don’t lie down and get stepped on. We shake our fists at the sky and shout, ‘Bring me your worst. Because I intend to give you my best and I will win no matter what it takes. You may knock me down, I can’t stop that. But I will get back up, and when I do, your blood will be the blood spilled.’”

He wanted to believe that. He did. “I’m so tired, Kody,” he breathed. “It just keeps coming with no let-up. Everything I do is wrong. Everything I touch turns to crap, and I’m sick to death of being blamed for things I haven’t done.”

“That’s the interloper talking, not you. I know my Nick. My Nick is strong.”

He licked his lips as his pain intensified. “If I live, you or my mother will die. What’s the point?”

“What’s the point?” she asked incredulously. “The point is to savor and treasure every moment, every breath. They are precious because they are limited. Nothing in abundance is ever held dear. It’s cast off without any thought whatsoever. But happiness, victory, and life are sacred because they are fleeting and stingily measured.”

“And the pain is never-ending.” Talk about abundance. It was shoveled at him so fast, he was buried in it.

“Not true and you know it. Pain is even more fleeting than the other emotions. Yes, it stays for awhile sometimes, but it always goes eventually. Always. Do you remember what you told Brynna when you stopped her from killing herself?”

“That I wore tacky shirts?”

Smiling, she shook her head at him. “The rest of it?”

“Vaguely.”

“You said, I know you’re hurting. Believe me, I know how it feels to get your emotional teeth kicked down your throat so far that it makes you choke on the last shred of your dignity. That sick feeling in your gut that tells you, you can’t take it anymore. That life sucks hard and it won’t ever get better. That you’re walking on the tightrope, trying to hang on with your toes ’cause you ain’t got no safety net, and you’re barely one sneeze away from being a stain on the floor. But you’re not alone. You’re not. You’ve got a lot of people who care about you. People who love you and who would be devastated if something ever happened to you.’”

“People who will die if I live,” Nick reminded her.

“And do you really think we wouldn’t be every bit as devastated if we lost you ?”

No, he hadn’t thought about that at all.

“There’s always another side to everything, Nick. Two perspectives on all things. No two memories of any event are ever the same. They’re all sifted through our emotional channels, which run deep, and they color every input into our brain. How many times have you argued with someone over a past event where they claim one thing happened, but you don’t remember it that way?”

All the time. “But—”

She placed her hand over his lips to keep him from speaking. “Do you know what suicide is?”

“Yeah, death.”

She shook her head. “It’s the ultimate act of selfishness. Yes, death is painful for those who live on. Losing someone burns so deep that it never stops. Time doesn’t heal it, it just dulls it for a little while. Believe me, I know. Unlike you, I have lost those I love. And I grieve every day of my life that I can’t get ahold of them. That I can’t hear their voices or see their faces. I would give anything I have, my soul, my life, if I could just hug them one more time and tell them that I love them. And how much I miss them. But again, it’s because our time together is so fleeting and limited that it teaches us to savor every smile they give us. And having lived through their deaths, I can tell you this. I love them too much to make them suffer the way I have over their loss. I would rather say good-bye to them first than have them alive for years, aching for me the way I grieve for them. What do you think your mother would do if something happened to you?”

“She’d follow me to the grave.” How many times had she told him that? If anything ever happened to you, they’d have to dig two graves. I couldn’t live if I lost you.