Betrayal of Cupids

Authors: Sophia Kenzie

BOOK: Betrayal of Cupids

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By Sophia Kenzie

All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.

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DEDICATION

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BETRAYAL OF CUPIDS

The Blood of Cupids MC #2

by Sophia Kenzie

November 29
^th

Ryan,

~~I’ve been trying to write to you…~~

~~Yesterday…~~

~~When they pulled us away from each other…~~

Ryan, I am sorry. I’m sorry that coming into your life has caused so much pain and suffering. If I could take back the last few months, I would. I would never have come to Philly for school. I would never have snuck into your match. I would never have let my father find out about us. I would never have fallen in love with you.

But I can’t take it back. This is the life, the reality we’re stuck with. Our time together will be burned forever into my memory, and I don’t know if that’s something I can handle. For one, the memories of the pain will always haunt me, but more stinging will be the memories of our love, and the knowledge that it’s still out there, just waiting for me to find it again.

I try to convince myself that we’re too young to understand what we mean to each other, that time will tell, but I don’t feel young anymore. I feel worn, weathered, and wasted. I look at my scarred body and feel the weight of my decisions. I feel the loss of my mother, my father… the loss of you. You, Ryan, I lost you. And it hurts me so much.

I woke up last night reaching. I knew I was reaching for you. I want you to comfort me from my nightmares: both the ones while I’m asleep and those that I face when I’m awake. But I know that is selfish; you have your own pain to conquer.

That is why in this letter I should be saying ‘goodbye’. Ryan, I truly should. While the dream of us running away together seemed only too perfect in the moment, everything has changed. Our families need us, and they need us apart. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to forget that fact.

But I need you. Nothing in my life makes sense without you. So while everything else in our situation might have changed, I hope you know my feelings for you never will. One day, one day, Ryan, we will be together, and this will all be behind us. I promise.

Goodbye, but only for now, Ryan. Know that I love you, today, tomorrow, and past the light.

~Your Grace

Grace

I am running. I don’t know from what, but I know the fear I feel is real. The sky darkens, and I can sense the rain is about to break free from the clouds. I need to find shelter, both from the downpour and from the thing that is chasing me. I can hear nothing, not even the sound of my feet hitting the ground. The silence causes my body to break out in a tremor of chills. I know I am not safe, but I can’t explain why. What is the cause of my uneasiness? Through the break in the trees, I see a hill up ahead. I think if I can just make it to the top, I’ll know what is going on. I’ll know why I’m running. I’ll know who I’m running from. I pick up speed, but the same ground stays beneath me. How is that possible? I do a double take, but it is certainly the same ground as before. I watch my feet move faster, bounding off the grass, but I cannot cover any distance. My body feels as though it’s stuck in molasses, and the more energy I exert, the slower I move. The hill is still before me, but I am stuck at the base. Although I know I have to, I cannot make it up. My chest tightens with the thought that there’s something I am missing. There’s something I have to do. I have a job¸ a task. What is it? Why can’t I remember? Why can’t I climb this hill?

I shot up out of bed, my arms outstretched before me. It must have been early evening, as I could see the cooling sun falling beneath the tree line from my bed. An old sycamore brushed its branches against the glass of my second story window. The sound was haunting, but familiar. I needed familiar. I needed something.

I hadn’t left my bed all day. The events of the previous night kept replaying over and over in my head. Had I not stormed out of Alexandria…Had I not gone straight to the
Cupid’s
clubhouse…Had I just run away with Ryan right then and there…Had I not been so selfish, had I made one different choice, my father would still be alive.

But I was, and he was not. I was selfish, and he paid the price with his life. I had to keep repeating those words to myself, trying to convince my stubborn mind that it was the truth. Patrick Brennan was gone. Patrick Brennan was never coming back. I may have been an adult, but I felt like an orphaned child. How could I go on?

I rolled from one side to the other, eventually forcing myself to sit up. Glancing over at my desk, I saw the scribbled note I had written Ryan during a brief stint of clarity earlier in the day. I had hoped that the letter would clear my mind, help me focus, but as soon as I signed my name, I lost that lucidity. The rest of the day was a fog. When would I stop feeling this way?

There was a small knock at my door. I didn’t want to speak, so I chose not to answer. The door creaked open despite my silence, and I saw Aunt Kathryn peek her head in. She looked tired, drained. Her bright blonde hair hung over her gaunt face in a way I had never seen before. She was wearing a Harley t-shirt and black leggings. My eyes were pulled down to her pink slippers. It seemed she hadn’t left the house all day.

She took two steps into my bedroom and stopped. “You awake?”

“For now,” I squeaked, refusing to make eye contact.

“There’s food.”

“I’m not hungry,” I fired at her.

Ignoring my tone, she tiptoed farther into my room, pushing the door closed behind her. Slowly, she lifted the blanket and crawled into bed with me. I wanted her to make it all better. I wanted to be reminded that there was a reason to keep going. I wanted her to hold me, but I couldn’t ask her to do any of that. I was on the verge of tears, and anything was likely to push me over the edge. Although I desperately wanted her warmth, I prayed for her not to touch me, for fear that I would break down.

“Gracie?”

“What?” I said softly as I tuned over, pulling the covers up to my chin. I felt as though I needed protection.

“He really did love you.”

I knew that. I really did know that, but one of my final memories of my father was the back of his hand across my cheek. My childish actions had angered him enough to lash out at me physically. I had never seen him react to me like that, but now that incident would color how I would always remember him. How would I get past that? My lips spread, and my eyes squeezed shut. I wanted it all to stop; there wasn’t much more I could take. I didn’t want any more tears. I just wanted to stop crying.

Aunt Kathryn curled up next to me, wrapping her arm around my upper body. I instantly tensed. Although her hugs had always made the pain go away, this time was different. I didn’t feel her warmth. I felt him. I was reminded of Sean Cassidy. I was reminded of the way he whispered his tortures into my ear. I was reminded of the way he grabbed me, forcing his mouth on mine. I was reminded of the knife he held to my neck—the same one he used to slice a line down my chest.

“No!” I rolled out of her grasp, collapsing onto the floor.

“Grace, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t touch me.”

My arms were up, guarding my body from anyone who might come close. After a few quick breaths, I was brought back to reality. The image of Sean was gone, leaving my frightened aunt sitting before me. She was just as broken as I, but in that moment, it wasn’t about me. She was asking me for comfort that I was unfortunately unable to give. For the first time in my life, we were the worst company for one another. I found my way to my feet, wrapping my arms around my shaking body. The weight was too much for my wobbly knees, and I tumbled back down to the floor. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes remained locked with mine. I wanted to apologize, to promise that I would find a way out of this daze, but the words never surfaced.

“I’m ready to wake up now,” I whispered.

She shook her head solemnly at me. “You are awake, Gracie. This is it.”

With a sharp intake of breath, I let the thought settle into my body. “In that case, I’m ready to go back to sleep.”

She nodded, lifting the blanket up to welcome me back into bed. I crawled into its warmth, facing Aunt Kathryn. A soft smile spread across her face.

“Sleep now, baby girl. Tomorrow you will have to leave this room.”

I closed my eyes, gladly welcoming the nightmares. Anything was better than my current reality.