The Prologue
His hand fisted in the back of my shirt right before I drove my knee into his ribs.
“Amaris,” he grunted, trying to twist me around but taking an elbow to the face for his trouble. “Amaris, stop. This isn’t you.”
He yanked my hands behind me, one large hand clamped around my wrists as he pulled me to my knees, bringing himself down with me. His other hand came up to cup my face, bringing my eyes to his. The fear in his eyes alone was what brought me partially back, but not before the knife slipped past his ribs.
He made no sound, and somehow kept his face calm, eyes gazing into mine,
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured. “It’s not you.”
My hand dropped from the knife handle, shaking terribly.
“Micah,” I whispered, voice cracking as my hands came up to steady his shoulders. I didn’t remember his hand releasing my wrists. One of his hands cupped the back of my neck, the other pressing to his ribs.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” I murmured, almost begging. I lowered him down onto his side against the cold floor
“Micah,” I whispered,”’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
My hands hovered over the knife, eyes streaming because I knew exactly what I was doing when the knife slipped from it’s small sheath. Blood gushes from the wound, faster than anything could possibly stop it. It hit me then. He was dying.
Amaris, he’s dying and it’s all your fault.
The alarms started blaring, red lights flooding the corridors. They found the ship. Oh, lord. They found the ship. But that was the least of my concerns at the time. I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I couldn’t stop the way Micah’s skin grew ever colder under my palms. But I lowered myself down onto the floor anyway.
He had just enough strength to pull me into his arms against his chest. His lips were against my ear then.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”
I should’ve been the one comforting him. He should’ve been mad at me. But instead, my face crumpled and a sob tore from my lips.
“Micah,” I wept, as I pressed my face to his unkempt curls.
“Don’t go,” I begged, “Please don’t go.”
I was begging for something I knew I was never going to get. We both knew that. Micah pulled my hand up from where it was squished between our chests, and pressed his lips to the aluminum ring on the smallest finger of my left hand. His lips were just as cold as his hands, and blue as the sky. He kissed the promise ring there, the one he gave me, with the simple engraving of M+A.
“I’m here until the last moment, sweetheart,” he rasped against my hand. My tears dripped down into his hair. I got to kiss him one last time after that.
He went cold and still soon after, but it took me two hours to make myself let go of him. I slipped the promise ring off his own finger, A+M, and forced myself to stand.
The world lost Micah Perabo on September 19. The world also lost a piece of Amaris Brown that same day.
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