Page 29 of The Wrong Reciprocation

The room was eerily quiet. Arturo stood there in obvious consternation, his face pinched, brows damn near one dark line, and lips twisted. He dropped his chin and his gaze down to the floor. Twyla stared at him, breath bated, both hands moving to cover her mouth as the realization of what she'd done pierced the cloud of anguish she'd been shrouded in.

"Arturo," she whispered.

Lifting his head, Arturo lifted his eyes to meet hers and tears immediately sprang forth at the pain she saw there.

"You knew." It wasn't a question but she tried to answer him anyway.

"No! I mean, yes, but not in the way—"

He scoffed and cut a hand through the air. "You knew!" He began pacing the room, hands at his sides, clenching and unclenching. "I've been miserable this entire trip because I thought I was hurting you! I thought I was forcing myself on you! I thought you were afraid of me!" The way his voice cracked when he said afraid pulled a sob from her throat. At the sound, he whipped his head in her direction.

"I wish I could say that you're just like them," he added, swiping at his nose, "but that would be too kind." He shook his head as he continued, pure disgust marring his features. "You're worse. Selfish, calculating, manipulative." Raking his hands through his hair, he chuckled but the sound was more haunting than humorous.

Twyla reached up with both hands and swiped at the tears steadily falling from her eyes. It wasn't just his cutting words or his tone that basically said he hated her. It was how everything he said was the truth. She had been all of those things. She'd only been thinking of herself when she attempted that ritual. Her comfort was all that mattered to her in that moment.

The words she'd been searching for finally returned to her. Twyla threw her hands up and screamed, "I didn't know!"

Momentarily taken aback, Arturo jerked away from her. Twyla's chest heaved, her breaths heavy and loud between them. After a couple beats, Arturo spoke again, his voice low, words once again measured.

"What didn't you know, Twyla?"

"I—" her breath hitched as she realized that she would have to be completely honest with herself if she wanted to be honest with him. "I didn't know how badly I wanted you." It was obvious in the way his eyebrows shot up and eyes widened, that he didn't expect her to say that, but he didn't respond so she continued. "I didn't know how far I was willing to go to have you. Even a sliver of you."

Arturo looked stunned. Twyla wasn't so sure she should keep speaking—certain she was digging herself into a hole she'd never be able to climb out of, however, she simply couldn't. Stop. Talking. The dam holding her emotions had finally cracked and now everything on the other side was spilling forth at rapid speed.

"You were supposed to be mine!" she shouted, her voice fraying at the edges. Just like her sanity. "I knew it from the first time you walked your swole ass into that break room and asked me what I was drinking and why it smelled so good. Being with you was all I'd been able to think about for months and I finally got you. I finally had you. I finally tasted you and touched you and saw that the future I'd imagined for us was possible. All of that, only for you to be snatched away from me before your scent could permeate my sheets! I can't even cry myself to sleep clutching my pillow pretending you're in the bed with me. I didn't get the chance!"

Brows furrowed, Arturo lifted a hand. "I—"

"You don't understand!" Twyla continued, ignoring his attempt to respond. It was too late for a back and forth. He was going to hear everything that had been bottled up inside of her for the last few months and shaken like a polaroid over the last few days.

"I’ve gone my whole life never having something that was truly just mine. I’m an only child but I’ve always had to share every. Single Thing. Always!” Huffing a mirthless chuckle, she shook her head and swiped another tear from her cheek. “Even when I didn’t know I was sharing. But you?” She pointed at him. “You should be mine right now, on this trip with me as my man! We're supposed to be fucking in the woods, and in the pool, and on the lake, and every damn where because that's what couples who like to fuck do! But because my—our—family is too busy being hateful and petty to just tell the fucking truth, we can't even be in the same room together without my heart breaking! So, yes, I did a bad thing, and I'm sorry!" She went to him, dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his legs. He stared down at her, bewilderment etched onto his chiseled face.

"I'm so so sorry, Arturo. I was miserable. Depressed. Losing my damn mind. And nothing could fix it because all I wanted was you. Stupidly, I thought some root work would at least help me survive this trip, but I fucked that up. And seeing you shattered me. All I could think about was what would've been if things had been fair. I didn't—" she swallowed. "I didn't know that you—"

"Weren't in control?" He interrupted abruptly, his words sharp, short. "At your mercy. Bending to your will?"

Her eyes watered but she dared not even blink for fear of breaking eye contact and losing the opportunity to explain herself and hopefuly fix things between them.

"No. Not at first. Not to that extent."

When he narrowed his eyes, Twyla felt his body tense and, anticipating that he was about to pull away from her, she tightened her grip around his thighs.

"I didn't!" She insisted. "I was scared in the beginning! Not of you, but of myself. I went through the trouble of going to see a voodoo lady and trying to get rid of my feelings for you, but when it came down to it, I never tried to stop you." Her throat swelled and she fought back the surge with a swallow. "When I realized you only came to me after I thought of us being together, I knew that I should've put a stop to it, but I didn't because I wanted you and I was getting you. You're right. I am every bit a selfish, manipulative bitch."

Clutching his legs, she stared up at him, willing him to hear how earnest she was, to believe her. Telepathically begging him to understand.

"When did you realize?"

His quiet question struck a fear in her that she'd never known before. Everything in her knew that if she told him the truth, there was no coming back. And as much as she wanted to lie, she owed him her honesty. Inhaling, she spoke as she exhaled.

"In the forest."

From her spot on the floor, she watched his face, waited for a reaction, and winced as her stomach twisted when he sort of deflated. The fight seeped out of him, leaving behind a sad resignation that made her want to scream and rage. He huffed a breath through his nostrils, scrubbed a hand down his face, and shook his head as he looked up at the ceiling.

"I felt it," he began, his voice even, matter-of-fact.

There was no need for specifics. She knew exactly what he was talking about.