Page 81 of Dead to Me

I slapped her, and she punched me back. We rolled through broken glass and roses. My maid-of-honor dress tore along the slit.

Blood stained the ivory satin. China's wedding dress was no longer white; red covered the bodice. Glass sparkled in the fabric, and rose petals clung to her hair. The whole room looked like the cover of a nightmare.

China grabbed my throat, and I grabbed hers. We stared at each other, two versions of the same woman, both trying to decide who deserved to survive.

China began to cry.

“I love you.”

I tightened my grip.

“You should’ve loved me when it mattered.”

She headbutted me, and pain shot across my face. I fell back as China crawled toward the door.

I grabbed the knife.

She reached for the handle, but I drove the blade into the back of her thigh. China screamed and collapsed. I pulled the knife free, and she rolled onto her back.

“Milan, please.”

I stood over her. Blood dripped from my arm, my lip, and my hand. My dress was torn and soaked with both of our blood.

China looked up at me from the floor, dressed in what was left of her wedding gown.

“Mama would hate you for this.”

I stared at her, then crouched down.

“Mama died thinking I was a murderer.”

China's face fell.

“You let her die believing that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She stopped visiting me after the first year.”

China shut her eyes.

“I know.”

“Did you tell her to?”

Her eyes opened, and that was all I needed. I felt the last gentle part of me fade away.

“You did.”

“Milan.”

“You told Mama not to visit me.”

“She was getting sick.”

China started to cry.

“She couldn’t handle seeing you there.”