A Tragic Heart by S. Elle Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

start the conversation I’ve always dreamed of having with Peyton. It’s a picture of a woman with red hair.
She was beautiful
.
She was him
. Without even asking, I reach over and pick up the picture; and he lets me.
    “Who’s this?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
    “My mom—she died about three years ago. A car crash.” And the pain in his eyes shines through him like the burning of a thousand suns.
    “I’m so sorry, Peyton,” is all I can say.
    “Don’t be—I hate when people say ‘sorry,’ as if they were there—or as if they did it. You didn’t do it;
he
did. And I can never forgive him.”
    I can tell the words just slipped out in anger, but I don’t care because Peyton is finally opening up to me.
And it’s extraordinary
.
    “I understand…how it feels to have someone you love taken away from you…without a warning or a word…Having them there one second and in the next, God decides to be selfish and take them away. Peyton, I understand, all too well…I understand,” I say with tears in my eyes now. Somehow, I manage to hold them back.
    “Taylor, what happened?” he asks in a voice that is dismantled as he gently touches my forearm.
    “His name was Tyler—Tyler Caldwell—and he was my brother, my twin brother. We were only thirteen. And it’s not fair…he was sick…and they said there was nothing they could do about it. I was the only one who could feel his pain. I stayed up all night with him in the hospital…I heard his last breath…I saw how scared he was…and I felt helpless because he was
my
brother and I couldn’t save him. I had to lie and tell him that he’d be okay when I knew he wouldn’t. He hated to see me hurt, so I couldn’t cry. He held my hand…and then he left. Just like that, he was gone. And I was too afraid to cry because I didn’t want to upset him, so I waited. I waited until the doctors took him down to the morgue. I waited until my parents drove us back home. I waited until everyone was asleep. I waited until they gave him back to the earth. I wanted to make sure he was really gone before I cried because I didn’t want to upset him, so I waited until I was alone that night and I cried—
and I cut
—for the first time.” I must be stronger than I thought because I manage not to cry. I lift up my sleeves to show Peyton my marked-up arms. He looks down at my arm and reaches out to touch the scars. Some of them still have their texture. They are rough and fragile. I begin to speak again.
    “I never once saw my mom or dad cry. I never once felt their pain. Kristen, my sister, pretended as if he never existed. Everyone who knew him pretended he never existed—like I never had another half. No one ever asked how we’re doing—how I was doing—except for Jackson. He knew I was hurting, so he stayed by my side. And ever since then, he’s refused to leave me. And today I left him. I turned my back on the only person who has ever been there for me. Peyton, I left—I didn’t even allow him to fight for me. What kind of person does that?” I ask, struggling to hold back my tears.
    I can see the pain inside of Peyton clearer than ever now. He never takes his eyes off of me. Not once.
    “A person who’s afraid. Someone who knows they made a mistake—someone who thinks that they’re unfixable. That’s what kind of person leaves the one they truly care about. Someone who’s afraid they’re not good enough. I know how that feels because I’ve been that person. I left a little after my mom died. My stepdad and I hated each other, and my real dad divorced my mom and left right before my seventh birthday. I haven’t seen him since. My mom and stepdad, Karson, used to fight a lot. He would hit her, and I would watch. I hate myself for watching because I feel like I should’ve done something about it. I mean, I was only seven but I should’ve done something. It wasn’t long before he started hitting me, too. When I was thirteen, my mom decided