Prologue
Part I
Part II
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Books by Lucy Scott Bryan
About Lucy Scott Bryan
Stay in touch
Sometimes you don’t realise your own strength until you come face to face with your greatest weakness.
Susan Gale
“Why?” I whisper to him.
“Because then we will be together forever, remember. You said you wanted to do this, what is your problem?” he hisses back at me, as we hide behind the back shed. The grass is growing so long out here, that even if you are only steps away, you won't be able to see us.
“I do, but why do we have to cut our hands again?” I say, confused by what he wants me to do.
“I will have a little bit of you in me and you will have a little bit of me in you. Don’t you want me?” he asks me, his long hair hitting his blue eyes, obviously bugging him as he keeps puffing it out of his face.
We are sitting, knee to knee in the shade.
“I’m scared it will hurt,” I reply back, “but if you go first then I will. Is it forever?”
“You are an idiot, you know that. Of course, it is forever. That’s what we said. We will be together forever,” he growls at me, pushing me in the shoulder a bit in his childish frustration.
“Don’t push me,” I say back, my voice stronger than I thought possible. He laughs at it too.
“Okay, come on, Mum will be home soon and I have to get the knife back or she will see,” he says as he leans over me again and with one hand lifts me back up to kneeling again.
“I’m sorry,” he gives me a funny, toothy grin before grabbing my dirty hand and laying it face up on my thigh, and then he flips his own hand in preparation.
“Watch me, I’ll prove that you are going to be mine forever, Gigi, I swear it,” he speaks through a cheeky smile, his face full of bravado, that only an eleven-year-old can wear.
The day suddenly stills and I watch captivated as he drags his mum’s kitchen knife over his palm, it shudders and skips leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake, my eyes go as wide as saucers at the line it leaves.
I hear him draw in a hiss through his teeth, “Sugar shits that stings, quick Gigi, give me yours,” he says and, fast like a snake, he captures my upturned hand and holds the blade over my palm, just where he had it on his.
I watch a drop of his blood hit my grimy hand as the blade lowers. It’s like the world is spinning in slow motion.
“Hunter!” a voice shrills, shattering the quietness that had descended over our secret pact.
He jumps at the unexpected noise and the blade he is holding digs deep into my palm and he drags it across my hand. A loud pain-filled squeak falls from my mouth as the knife cuts, sending a series of burning stings up my arm. I pull my hand out of his as I whimper, looking at the cut through tear-filled eyes, that doesn’t look like his at all. The blood instantly wells up, dripping down onto my pants.
He looks up at my face quickly, his eyes begging me to be quiet, to keep us hidden a little longer, before his gaze darts back to my bleeding hand, his eyes flaring wide in alarm.
“Ssshhh Gigi. I am sorry,” he says in a shaky breath and then he drops the knife in the dirt and picks up my hand gently in both of his.
A big fat tear trails down my cheek and falls in the dirt next to the forgotten knife.
“Do it,” I whisper.
Hunter clasps our hands, squashing them together so tightly, that it stings nearly more than the cut did.
“You have to say it with me, Gigi, remember what we wrote down, you promised me. We have to say it together or it won’t work. You will ruin it if you do it wrong, got it?” he says so quickly that his words jumble together and sound strange in my ringing ears.
We look at each other, he puffs his hair out of his eyes again.
“Hunter, get inside now!” his mother screeches into the afternoon, for the whole neighbourhood to hear.
Together we stare into each other's eyes and with a big breath, it signals a poorly worded childhood oath that changes our lives. Although sometimes, I wonder, if it would have happened anyway.
“One cut, two cut, my cut, your cut. Your blood, my blood, our blood is red, inside me now till we are dead,” we say it slowly word for word.
“Not the next part, it’s silly,” I speak quickly looking at our bloody palms, but he squeezes our hands again, his eyes suddenly looking angry.
“Say it, Gigi. Start again,” he insists, disappointment clear in his voice.
“Okay,” I say quickly, after seeing the emotions sweep over his face. My single word is enough to instantly change his face, replacing any concern with a look full of love.
Another big breath and we start again.
“One cut, two cut, my cut, your cut. Your blood, my blood, our blood is red, inside me now till we are dead. Inside me, inside you, our blood is our promise, it will be true,” we finish our sing-song together.
It seems like there is only a moment or two of silence after our song ends. Both of us looking at our bloody union, before we look up at each other. No doubt my face matches Hunters. His eyes are huge, full of his happiness, surprise, and shock that we actually did it.
The quiet afternoon is broken as we peel into nervous, relieved laughter at what we just did. Trying to keep our giggles quiet, in case Hunter’s mum's super-sonic hearing finds us, but it only makes our giggling worse, until Hunter suddenly focuses on my bloody hand.
The smile falls instantly from his face as he focuses on my still bleeding cut. His attention seems to reignite the pain that starts zinging through my arm again, from my hand to my elbow, it stings. I cower, pulling my wounded hand away, but he stops the movement with a growl before ripping his t-shirt with his teeth and bandages our palms together.
“Can you feel it, Gigi? I am inside you now. Don’t ever forget that,” Hunter surprises me by snarling.
“Are you angry at me….why?” I ask looking at him, confused.
“Cause I have to go. I don’t want to. I want to stay here, and it’s all your fault that I can’t,” he says, his anger gone between one-second and the next.
“No, it’s not. It’s not my fault. It’s your stupid mum’s,” I reply quicker.
“Hunter, you have three-seconds to get back from that little bitches house,” his mum squawks again.
“Is she calling me that word Hunter?” I ask, feeling sick in my stomach.
“Yep!” he says, a smirk over his grubby face.
“Why?” I demand.
“She is just jealous because I love you so much and I tell her every day!” he yells to the sky, before we both start laughing uncontrollably again, falling into the dust and bloody ground, kicking up our bare feet.
Laying there, covered in grime, the sun beating down on us, we ignore his mum for as long as we can. We interlace our fingers on our bleeding hands, my cut throbbing in pain against his palm but Hunter’s happiness, his stories of what we will be doing tomorrow make it all fade away. Watching the clouds drift by, we swap naughty jokes, figure out stupid dares for tomorrow and talk nonsense to each other endlessly.