Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (librera reader .TXT) 📖

mouth. Gripping the wooden posts of the staircase, he watched through spotted vision as she stepped away from him, hand at her mouth, sobbing. He had been stabbed, by his own father, and Skye wasn’t going to be safe and happy again.
Crumpling onto the ground, he coughed blood, tears trickling from his eyes. He couldn’t let himself die without saving her, that’s all he could think about as he realized he was going to die. He could only think about saving her

.
He didn’t look back at his father; the pain was intoxicating and numbing his body. He knew he would see the same cold look he had always seen; he would see the same look he had gotten all of his life: an empty, heartless, pained look. And he knew that his father was never a father. He never even loved his own son.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and tried to shake it off but only crumpled over more. He was losing time, hope, and he knew he had little time to save Skye. Spotting the only thing within reaching distance, he grabbed it, and, with all his remaining strength, turned and smashed it over his father’s head.
The shards of glass shattered around him, raining on him. He fell against the ground, weak and throbbing in pain. The world was fading in the slightest, his vision speckled with blackness as he found himself retreating to the darkness of death. There was no light. Until he heard the cries of the girl he loved, and felt her cold and frail hands tipping his head up.
Looking into her eyes, he smiled inside, feeling warmth that he didn’t think he could have in such a cold place. Then it hit him. He had done it: his father was unconscious and Skye would be able to protect herself.
He tried to tell her something, everything

, but nothing came out. He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay for her, that she would finally be free from the misery he and his father had put her through. His heart reached out for her though his body wouldn’t respond. He knew she had so much to live for, no matter what she thought, and he knew that even though Johnny was beating her, she would pull through. She had Jules and Rachel, he knew, and in the end she would finally find peace.
She was going to be safe if she listened to him, and, in his mind, his own life was just the right cost for her safety. All he cared about in those last moments, when he believed he was dying, was her

. He had told her he would do anything

for her, and dying for her safety was that anything

. Dying didn’t seem scary to him anymore, it only seemed like the perfect way to leave.
“Skye,” he whispered. He noticed her smile, though her eyes and expression were sad and scared. “Call the police, tell them everything, and save yourself. Don’t stay here with me, don’t wish for me to come back—” he coughed again, his life slipping away from him quickly. “Remember one thing, beautiful. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” He uttered the last words he would ever say, curling over. He fumbled for her hand, searching for something to hold, but all the light faded around him and he fell limp against her.
The last words he ever heard were Skye’s: “Bry, I love you. I love you too.”


Skye pulled Bryan’s lifeless body into her lap, sobbing and shaking her head. “No, Bry, don’t leave, please don’t leave me.” She whispered, begging through sobs. “You can’t leave me Bryan, not now. Please

not now

.”
Tears cascaded down her ghostly pale face, her eyes reddened and puffy. Her emotions were zigzagging in every direction, dropping her heart into her stomach and clouding her mind. She couldn’t believe it. Bryan was gone, her

Bryan, the boy who was crazy in love with her. In those moments, she didn’t remember the bad memories, only the good ones, and it broke her heart.
She cradled him in her arms, rocking back and forth as she let her tears pour. She tried catching her breath, her hands and clothes covered by the fresh blood of his wounds. Everything ached, her head, her body, her heart; she was slowly losing herself in the agony and heart-shattering truth of it all. Bryan was dead, lifeless and gone, and she was never getting him back. He gave his life for her, and, in her mind, all she had given him was reasons to hate her.
“Bryan, I’m sorry. I’m s—so s—sorry.” She stuttered, crying into his cold body. “It’s my fault this happened. I—I should’ve been stronger, I shouldn’t have let this happen to you.”
She waited, for a response though she knew there would be none. When there was no response, not even the beat of his heartbeat next to her ear, she grasped a tight hold on him, wishing he would breathe again, wishing he would come back to life. She knew it was a lost cause, he was already gone, but it didn’t seem real to her. Nothing seemed real anymore.
Get help, Skye

, she heard echo in her head, call the police before that foul man gets away with murder

. She knew to listen to the voice. Even though it was her voice, she felt Bryan’s soul within it, telling her to save herself. His last words would never be forgotten by her: I love you. I’ve always loved you.

Looking up, she saw Bryan’s father’s unconscious body covered in small shards of glass. As her heartbeat sped, the thought of that man waking up and harming her, she stumbled to her feet, wiping her blurry tears away.
She scurried over to the phone on the post, dialing 911 frantically as she tried to calm herself. Her lips were dry, her mouth parched. She needed water, sleep, and medicine, the previous pain pills had worn off. Her new injuries throbbed, along with her pounding head as everything started crumbling down on top of her, squeezing the life from her.
Bryan’s dead, gone,

she thought to herself in distress, and it’s all my fault. He was trying to save me, me. Even after everything he’s done to me, I still don’t feel worthy of that kind of sacrifice

. Her heart ached, screaming regret. Why, Bryan? Why did you save me?

She wished he would answer. She needed to know why he saved her so willingly. Just hours earlier in the same day, he had violated and hurt her; yet, when the time came to sacrifice his life for hers, he took it. He gave her his life. All for love’s sake, he sacrificed everything just to save her.
Skye wished she had never hated him. He was ill, there was nothing he could do about it, yet she’d still hated him. Though it was too late, she realized that she really did

love Bryan— it had only been masked over when he’d changed. He had been so good to her from the time he brought her to the house, so much like he’d been before the illness had enveloped him. She knew he didn’t deserve to die like that, so brutally, so suddenly—especially when it was done at the hands of his own father

.
She pressed her hand against her forehead, trying to relieve the overwhelming pressure. She needed to get home, though she knew she had more important things to handle.
Even though it had only been a matter of moments before the emergency line picked up, it felt like an eternity to her, everything around where she stood suffocating her. She gasped to breathe, her nerves tingling when she heard the person speak on the other line.
Help

, her words spoke, hidden behind the cries of what had happened, slurred into a nondescript explanation of a plea for help. After she hung up the phone, she barely remembered what she had told the person on the other line. Words like—Help, stabbed, possibly dead, scared

—all sang out in her mind. They were on their way; she knew that much from the small town’s sirens ringing in the distance.
Dropping down near Bryan, she sobbed, the reality sinking deep within her broken heart. Again and again, she tried to tell herself that he was still alive, that it was all just a dream; but she knew better. She knew the truth as well as she knew the pain; and she felt as though the pain was killing her inside.
“Bryan, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, crawling over to his lifeless body and resting her head on his cold shoulder.
Never again would she see his piercing blue eyes, feel his warm hands caress her cheek, or hear his low and mystical voice calling out for her. Never again would she feel his heart beating, laugh at his terrible jokes, or listen to him rant on and on about sports and why he cared so much to pay attention to them. Never again would he be with her, alive

. Never again would she

be quite the same.
She heard the sirens get louder, her thoughts floating away with the putrid air, smelling of blood and death. Her breathing was short, quick breaths, speeding and slowing as profusely as her mind reeled. She tried to carry her thoughts away, to let them drift to a time when everything was perfect. Nothing came but dark memories of Johnny and Bryan—in their own separate moments of weakness.
Pushing those memories away, she tried to think of better ones again. Only to bring back a memory of Bryan so sweet, it took her breath away and stomped on her heart.
It was the memory of the first time they met. Fourth grade—the year Bryan moved into town.
“Hey,” Bryan said quietly, sitting in the desk next to Skye.
She slid her gaze towards him, away from the paper that lay before her, a sketch of a flower scribbled by her own hands. “Hi,” she greeted shyly, shifting her gaze back towards her paper.
He leaned across the space between desks, peering at her drawing. “What’s that you’re drawing? A flower?”
Defensively, as if he had intruded, she covered the drawing with her small hand and frowned. “It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled, shoving it under her textbook.
“It was beautiful, if you’d ask me. Do you draw a lot? ‘Cause you’re really good.”
She twirled her hair around a finger, biting her lip. Her gaze stared straight ahead, avoiding his beautiful blue eyes. “Doodles, yes.”
He laughed then, a sudden and mocking laughter. “Well, that was the best ‘doodle’ I’ve ever seen. Mind if I have it, please? I promise to give you something in return. Anything you’d like.”
She looked at him, studying him. He was grinning at her, his eyes focused only on her. He was close to her, a small distance breaking the uncomfortable shyness she felt before. Her lips tipped into a smile, her nerves retreating. “Okay,” she said. “But it’ll cost you.”
He grinned brighter, his eyes lighting up. “Anything you want.”
“Give me your candy bar,”