Original Sin: A Modern Reimagining of Wuthering Heights (Blurred Lines) by Mila Crawford

Author:Mila Crawford [Crawford, Mila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Katelyn

Violence is something I’ve lived with in one form or another my entire life. From the stern hand of my father’s belt connecting to my brothers’ backs, to Henry’s volatility and sick nature, all the way to Eddie’s humiliation and torture. All I’ve ever known is violence, and even my solace in the ocean vanished when its angry waves consumed my mother. The only peace I ever had was the soft caress of Heath’s hand. I never got any real love or affection from my dad or Henry. Heath’s presence in my life gave me something to live for, a profound peace and adoration that was devoid of any brutality. But last night proved to me that even he’s become contaminated, riddled with the need for destruction.

I place concealer on my bruised and battered skin with the practiced hand of an expert. Marks doled out on the supposed premise of love. But true love doesn’t bruise. The mark it leaves isn’t visible. It’s a tattoo on the soul, a permanent imprint on the heart.

Love that borders the edge of madness. Bruises landed not from one man but two. Eddie’s blows are direct like missiles with perfect aim that I accept as my penitence, while Heath’s creep up like a welcome soft rain that then hurls itself into a tornado.

I cannot believe he’s returned, and that the years have changed him so much. He touches me in violence now, too, and in my heart, I feel like I deserve his cruelty for pushing him away. The only problem is that when Heath touches me, even in violence, I welcome it like a baptism to wash away my sins.

For five years I slept every night with his ghost beside me, comforted myself with ephemeral memories of him, pretended he was there with me, always. Seeing him again last night was like being doused in ice water. I am the one to blame for his absence, and perhaps if I didn’t live in the sick, twisted maze that is Wainscott Hollow, we would have had a chance. It would be him I was married to now and I wouldn’t be going through my third stick of concealer in a few months.

My husband dresses for work and I watch him in the mirror, gauging his mood.

“On my way to the city today, I’m stopping by the precinct to report your little charity case for assault,” Eddie spits as he straightens his tie. “I’m sure the police department will give him a hero’s welcome on his return to Long Island Sound.”

I’ve taken Eddie’s abuse for years. I tolerated it because a part of me was indebted to him for saving me from my fucked-up situation. I could never give him what he wanted, a way to my heart, so I sacrificed my body instead, allowing him to do what he wanted to satiate his dark needs.

My heart was unavailable because it belonged to another, and I had no piece of it left over to share.

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