Page 93 of Insidious

Her lips part, but no sound comes out. I almost feel sorry for how crushed she looks. Almost.

“I had no interest in you that way,” he adds, quieter now. “Why do you think I could never touch you after that?”

The words land like blows.

I let out a short breath.

“That is,” I say, cutting in softly, “if you ever had sex in the first place.”

It was just a snarky throwaway comment, but I notice how Chloe looks away before she recovers.

The world tilts.

“No,” I say slowly. Understanding slides into place, piece by piece.

“No … You lied about that as well.”

Her silence confirms it more than any denial could.

Isaac goes very still beside me. For a second, he looks dazed. His hand squeezes my shoulder.

“Is that true?” he finally asks, with burning eyes.

Chloe shakes her head immediately. “No, Isaac—”

“Don’t. Don’t lie to me again,” he cuts in.

She takes a step back. I can see her hands shaking.

“You said—” he starts, then stops, dragging a hand through his hair like he needs to physically pull the memory out of himself. “You said we—”

His jaw locks.

“That night, you told me we had sex.”

Her silence is answer enough.

“You put me through hell,” he says, more to himself. “I thought I’d taken advantage of you,” he goes on, voice roughening despite his control. “I thought I’d crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.”

Chloe takes a step forward. “Isaac, I was confused. I didn’t know how to … I just loved you so much.”

“I felt sick,” he continues as if she hasn’t spoken. “All the time. Every time I looked at you, I kept thinking, what kind of man does that? She was like my sister.”

His laugh is hollow.

“I couldn’t even—” He stops and shakes his head. “Every time I tried to be close to you after that, something in me just … shut down. And I thought that was my fault too.”

Her eyes are shining with tears now. “We were married—”

“Because I thought I owed you,” he says sharply.” I couldn’t bear to disappoint my mother. I thought I had ruined your life and mine because I did not want you at all,” he continues. “I tried to make it work.” His expression twists with pain. “And it still wasn’t enough, was it?”

“Isaac, please—”

“You wanted me to drop everything.” He presses on. “Uni. Friends. My life. Go to France so you could take that job. How could you be so selfish? You played me like a violin.” His eyes narrow slightly, as cold as a frozen lake. “I almost did it. I almost let the guilt ruin my life.”

The admission hangs in the air like a death knell.

“I was that deep in it,” he says quietly. “That guilt. I’m so glad I didn’t.”