Johnny & I : The Island by Daria Paus (hardest books to read txt) 📕

as he wished, and the need to fight for what I believed in.

I grabbed his hand before he could snatch it away.

“I know what you're doing but it won’t work,” I said. “You can't push me away.”

“Just go.” His voice was tired, desperate. “Get away from me.”

“No, I’m not leavin’ you.” I reached out my other hand letting it rest flat on his chest.

“Don't,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don't fucking touch me.” He grabbed my hand, removing it.

“Johnny listen to me!”

“No!” He shoved me away but I clung to his hand.

“Get away from me.” His voice went from a snarl to shouting. “Get the fuck out of my life!” He yanked his arm away from my grip, and the sudden force made me stumble. I lost my balance and landed on my butt with a small yelp.

His eyes widened, lips parted and it looked like he’d stopped breathing completely. After a silence that seemed to stretch into eternity, he managed a trembling whisper.

“Do you get it now?”

I nodded from my position on the floor. I got it. I really did. He was trying so hard to make me hate him, to make me scared of him. From day one I'd seen straight through his hardcore facade. I didn't need to read his journal to know of the pain he carried inside. It was written all over his face every time he lost himself in thought. How no one else seemed to have noticed was beyond me.

“I get it,” I said. “I get that you’re pushin', people away ‘cause you’re scared. I get that you’re hurtin' so bad but you don't dare to let anyone in. I get that you—”

He sunk to his knees. I was at his side in a flash. Harsh words and bruised feelings forgotten as I wrapped my arms around his trembling body.

“I get it,” I whispered. “That's why I ain't gonna fall for your bullshit no matter how harsh.”

“Fuck you.”

Ignoring his bad language, I let my hand run through his hair in an endless calming motion.

His body relaxed in defeat and I tightened my arms around him, mumbling soothing nonsense into his neck.

He pulled away, glancing at me through strands of hair hanging in his face. Then he averted his eyes, moving to sit back against the wall. With a sigh, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. The wind whipped his hair back, and when I studied his face in the glowing porch light, the unmistakable trace of tears glistened on his cheeks.

I moved to sit next to him. “What happened to you?” I asked. “Who hurt you so bad?”

The barely noticeable shake of his head didn't surprise me. I sighed.

“You have so much light in you,” he whispered.

I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but as he went on, I suddenly understood, and my heart broke a little bit more.

“I will ruin you. I'm poison, Bree. I don't wanna do that to you.”

I took his hand. “Who told you that?”

“I don't need someone to tell me. It's fucking obvious.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I ruin everything I touch. You’ve read the tabloids. You know what they say.”

“You’ve had some serious bad luck, that’s all.”

He let out a sharp laugh, muttering the word. “Bad luck . . . I am the bloody bad luck.”

“Well, I’m not superstitious, so I reckon I’m as safe as I can be.”

“I’m not a black cat or a fucking broken mirror, I’m—” he cut himself off, seeming to struggle with the words before adding in a small voice. “I’ve done things . . .”

“I don't care.”

He fell silent and I took the opportunity to process what he’d said. What could have happened to make him hate himself so much? To make him believe he was such bad luck to the people in his life? What were those things he talked about?

Johnny spoke up, snapping me out of my head and back to the moment. “I said some horrible things to you.”

“It's ok.”

“No. It’s not ok. This is my point. I’m—” His voice broke. I waited for him to catch his breath. “I’m a fucking mess,” he sighed. “I thought I'd fixed it, dealt with it, got my shit together but it's back, I’m—" He let out a long breath. “I’ll never be free from it. You shouldn't have to see this.”

The raw honesty made me gasp. It was rare coming from him, but when it did, the uncensored pain behind the words cut like a blade through my heart.

“It’s too late for that,” I said. “I'm here. I know you now, and I wouldn't want to change a thing.” I squeezed his hand. “You don't have to hide from me.”

“But—”

“No buts.”

“Bree I’m—”

I put a finger to his lips, hushing him. “It will be fine. You're going through a lot, I get it. But while we’re here, let me help you.”

He let out a quick laugh. “I have to hand it to you, you’re the most stubborn person I've ever met.”

I chuckled. “I hear that a lot.”

He gave me a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“Let's go back inside.” I stood, holding out a hand for him. With a few seconds delay, he took it and looked up into my eyes. The exchange made me feel like he didn't just allow me to lead him out of the storm, but to somewhere more frightening than that. He let out a trembling breath and closed his eyes. I studied his face as he struggled with emotions. Then he opened his eyes, got to his feet and let me lead him back to the bedroom.

13

Let me love you

He lay down on his back and closed his eyes. For a moment, I stood next to the bed, watching the small rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

The bed moved under my weight as I climbed to sit next to him. He looked at me, keeping his eyes locked on my face as I