Chapter 16

His heart pounded frantically in his chest, sweat was clinging to his skin and it was hard to breathe. So hard.

He was slipping out of under the covers, strolling over to the window and pressed his hand against the cold glass, gulping hard as he tried to get his breathing in check.

It was always the same. The screeching of the tires, the screams in his ears and then the beeping sound of the phone.

He clenched his teeth, willing the pain down. A pain that was trying to drown him.

"Killian?"

He jerked as he heard her voice. He hadn't heard her waking up, too consumed by the terrors of his nightmare, too haunted by the mistakes of his past.

"Talk to me."

He heard the pleading in her voice and he wanted to keep it away from her, didn't want her to know what he did, didn't want her to see what kind of horrible human being he'd been. He could have prevented it. They didn't need to die. It was his selfishness that killed them. He killed them. It wouldn't have been any different if he had driven a knife through their hearts. He was the reason they were dead.

But if he wouldn't open up to Emma he would lose her. He knew he would. He would lose the best thing that happened to him in ages. He would lose her friendship. He would lose the hope that had spilled into him again. Hope that his life might have more meaning than being a doctor and saving lives. Hope that he might be worth being loved again. Might be worth to love again.

He pushed away from the window sill and walked briskly into the living room, opening the bar and pulling out a bottle of scotch. He just needed some liquid courage. He couldn't tell her without feeling the burn of alcohol down his throat. Because he might lose her after all. After telling her his darkest secret, she might recoil from him and never wanted to see him again. He needed to prepare for the worst, because his past might destroy everything between them.

"Killian?" Her voice drifted into his mind again and he gripped the glass in his hand tighter, fearing he would crush it in his hands. "Please, don't shut me out."

He reached for another glass and poured her three fingers of scotch, shoving it into her hand. "I think you need one too if you want to listen to the story."

"Okay." She said softly, following him to the couch and sitting down beside him.

"It's not pretty." He told her, his voice barely above a whisper. "And it's hard to tell … anyone. I just need a favor from you before I begin."

She reached for his free hand, the one that wasn't closed around the glass, and squeezed it gently. "Of course."

"Just ..." He gulped hard, his stomach clenching with dread. "I … don't interrupt me, okay? I just … I can't … I need to tell you without interruptions."

She just nodded and leaned back, her fingers leaving his as if she knew, somehow, that he couldn't keep body contact with her while telling her the story.

He swirled the glass in his hand, staring at the amber liquid sloshing against the rim before he raised his hand and gulped down the content, hissing slightly as the alcohol burned its path down his throat.

Leaning back, he closed his eyes. He didn't think he could look at her right now.

"I was studying in England. Eight years ago." His voice was hoarse, every word he forced through his throat was hurting him inside. It had been so long, but the pain was as fierce as it had been all this time ago. "Liam had gone to America for his job and he kept begging me to come over as well. I resisted. Didn't want to leave England behind. But then he told me he might get me into John Hopkins and I couldn't let this opportunity slide." He was breathing hard now, the memories trying to choke him but he pushed through, no matter how tight his chest felt. "I came over to America on a student visa. All bright eyed and eager to learn. I knew Liam had a girlfriend. He had told me everything about her via Skype. I had never seen her in person, only pictures. He was a fine lass. Gorgeous eyes, long lean body. I understood why he liked her."

"I didn't think it was possible. I loved my brother. Fiercely. I didn't think I could ever do anything to hurt him. But then I met Milah in person and I was lost. I never believed in love at first sight until I met her. I fell in love. Hard and fast. I tried to stay away. But I couldn't. She fell in love too. Or at least she told me she was in love with me. We fought against it for quite some time, but then I came to their apartment one day, wanting to talk to my brother, and he wasn't there. Only Milah. It just happened. I couldn't control it. I was so in love and I was young. Seeing the future through rose-colored glasses." He clenched his fingers around the tumbler, expecting the glass to shatter in his hands any second. "Milah told me she would tell Liam, that she couldn't live a lie any longer and I agreed, believing it was the best way to go. We were in love."

"She told him while they were driving home from a concert. She shouldn't have told him while they were in the car." The lump in his throat was getting bigger and bigger, and he was hardly able to speak anymore. "He called me. All angry. Shouting at me how I could do that to him. I tried to explain, but he didn't listen to me. And then ..." He choked on a sob, his hands balling into fists as he rasped. "He lost control of the car. I heard their screams over the phone. Tires screeching, then the sound of their car hitting the guarding rail and then … nothing." He could hardly breathe, the memories slamming into him, tears pricking the back of his eyes as he remembered their last moments. "When the paramedics came to the scene they could only announce them dead. They died instantly. At least they told me they didn't suffer. But I will never know for sure. I will never know. And it's all my fault."

He couldn't keep the tears back any longer and leaned forward, burying his face into his hands and sobs racked his body, but suddenly he felt her hands on his back, her arms pulling him into her embrace, and he buried his head against her shoulder as the tears kept falling, his hands grabbing for her arm and gripping her tightly. He was breaking all over again, and he held on to her with everything in him.

Because if she would leave him … he didn't think he would survive it.