Page 25 of Love Sick
Some people are just born bad…and fucking crazy, and Alanna is both.
“You, Joy, are a fucking idiot. And as I see it, you’re about to get what you deserve. You betrayed your best friend…but not before fucking her son.”
“You killed Misha!” Joy screams, violently tugging at the restraints.
“No, you did,” Alanna counters with a shrug. “I wasn’t the one behind the wheel that night.”
“What happened to Jonathan? What did you do to him?”
I think Joy senses her demise is around the corner, so she’s not holding back.
“I didn’t do anything.”
But Alanna is lying.
The more this fucked-up story unravels, the more convinced I am that Alanna killed Jonathan.
Is that why she’s so intent on “saving” him? Does she feel bad?
Then another thought occurs.
Could it be the reason Alanna gave me Misha’s heart is because deep down, she knows what she’s proposing is impossible, and that she wants me to take Jonathan’s place?
This is the only advantage I have, the one which makes the most sense, not that any of this does.
“I have an idea…Dutch, you decide.”
I arch a brow, not liking where this is going.
“You decide if Joy deserves to live…or if she deserves to die.”
Joy looks at me, her eyes pleading I spare her life. But this is a test and if I fail, I fail Luna. But how can I do this? Can I live with this on my conscience?
“Ticktock,” Alanna singsongs.
All I can think, however, is if I do this, my heart will always pulse with a sickened beat, echoing the choice I make.
Tick…tick…the sound of my heart suddenly pulsates with a new beat.
Sick…sick…
And that’s what I’ll be if I condemn Joy to death.
Alanna can see me grappling with this choice. My pain equates to weakness and to someone like Alanna, she will use that against me. This will cost Luna, and I just cannot risk that. I would kill anyone to protect her.
I failed her once before…I will not again.
Forgive me, Father…
“Please, god, no!” Joy cries, tears streaming down her face as she can read what I’ve decided.
Alanna appears shocked, which is what I wanted.
“Every action has a consequence, Joy, and Alanna is yours,” I blankly say, barely keeping it together.
Vomit rises, but I swallow it down because I too have to live with the consequences of my choice.
“Well, it seems Dutch has decided,” Alanna says with intent as she wishes me to know that Joy’s death will be on my head. She is merely the messenger; the angel of death.