Page 43 of The Price Of Possession

Still, I hate when he is the voice of reason. I let my hoodie drop back down over my stomach. I take a drag of my cigarette.

“Like you've ever opened up to me about your problems?” I fire back. I jump down from the countertop and pace around the kitchen.

“No, but I think shit through,” he responds pointedly.

I say nothing but give him the double finger. What else can I fucking say? This shit is ridiculous. I just want to float on the endless stream of drugs and forget all of this shit.

I'm hanging by a thread. I feel like I'm about to crack.

“You just need to be open and honest about your feelings. I never knew he hurt you.” Vesper's little voice pipes up. Now she wants to play nice? Now she wants to give a fuck about me as a person and the shit I've gone through? Fuck her sympathy.

“Nah.” The screaming silence is so loud I can't think. I feel like this is some type of interrogation.

Vesper gets to her feet. Her little body is still trembling. She's gotten stronger but tonight would fuck with anyone’s fragile mental state. She finally got concrete answers on her family history, though it probably was a bomb for her. “Kieran. I know you have the ability to understand and care. Don't let him win. Don't let him hold that power over you. You can still fix this with Clara. I can't begin to imagine—”

“Stop.”

Do I have the ability? I've never given a shit about anyone or anything . . . until Clara. I roll my tongue along my cheek. “Don't act like you know me,” I deflect. I roll my eyes with a scoff. This is beyond fixable. It doesn't mean I can't take her regardless.

Zain shoots me a warning glare. I stub out my cigarette along the counter, not giving a fuck.

My eyes skirt back over to Vesper. She sighs. Her hands are firmly planted on her hips. “I'm sorry I didn't trust you or the process. I'm truly sorry. Just know we're here for you. This is just as hard for me. The only man I knew as my father, isn't who I thought he was. He lied to me for years about so many things. I knew he adopted me, but he had to have known Mortensen was my real father. Instead he fed me lies about someone named Zen.” She pauses, shaking her head.

“Are you still willing to do what needs to be done to bring Mortensen down? You have our support. We can help, I don't think Clara can take much more, Kieran. Maybe if you just tried to explain—”

“No, the plan hasn't changed. This is for me, and me alone.” I know she deserves vengeance, too. Both of them, but I need to do this.

She doubts me. She fucking doubts me, staring at me like I'm some type of damaged goods. Wild. Explaining will get me nowhere. My Nightshade already sees me as the beast she's made me out to be. I let out a low non-committal rumble but ultimately nod at Vesper. I'm already a limitless sinner. What I've done would make the devil himself weep. My Nightshade can hang on a little longer.

He's let his darkest impulses steer him to insanity. I scream loudly into the black pillowcase beneath me. He fed me lies about his father, when I've always just been a pawn in his ascension to power. The flicker of lightning from the window snaps across my closed eyelids. With the last bit of energy I can muster, I crawl from the bed to the floor. I sink onto the hardwood, my shirt rides up against the edge of the bed, exposing my marred skin. I stare down at the name etched in my skin, branded like cattle. Kieran's name is now mostly healed, but no less painful. Flecks of scabs are all that is left of his depravity.

Branded.

Used.

Owned.

I'm dripping in misery, unable to bring myself out of my disparities. The broken part of me doesn't want to. The will to live eludes me. His words cut me deeper than anything ever could. I crawl on shaky hands along the dusty hardwood floor. Pills and empty bottles are littered along the floor from his outburst.

I scoop up a few unknown pills and pop them in my mouth, swallowing them dry. They scrape down the back of my throat like razorblades. My body sags against the floor, depleted of all energy. The painful throb between my legs refuses to relent. It's as if cut glass digs into my insides, twisting like a blade.

Soon enough the darkness will take hold, and I can finally find peace. I crawl toward the other side of the bed and prop myself against the mattress in silence. I rest my head along the wooden post letting the last bit of memories consume me. The flashbacks of my mother’s soothing voice when I was younger fill my soul. A time when I was still innocent and the world was a place of wonder and not disparity. The moment when I set myself up for success at Grimshaw, just to find out I was never accepted due to my own achievements, but instead for my body. It's been the only thing people desire from me. They covet me like a treasure just to use me for their own selfish gain. Teardrops seep into my skin. I let the memories drift to Kieran. His sinful crystalline gaze and devious smirk. The plains of endless muscles along the ridges of his skin. I let my eyes fall shut and the wave of euphoria wash over me like a blanket.

Each step up the stairs hardens my interior. My mind is a battleground. Clara floats around my insides like barbed wire, entwining with the thoughts as if she belongs there. Hell, maybe she does. Something lies underneath the surface, ready to draw out the beast. I push open the bedroom door to be met with darkness. I flip the light switch on. My eyes drag over to my empty bed in the corner. The inky sheets are piled up at the foot of the bed. Clara is nowhere to be found. Panic instantly sets in.

Frantically I scan the room looking for her. That's when I spy her lifeless body slumped against the other side of the bed in a crumpled mess. I haul ass across the room. Her body is pale, void of any sense of life. Dread washes over me. The room spins into an endless vortex, dragging me down. I drop to the ground on my knees stricken with grief. Her hand is cold. A faint pulse registers along her wrist.

I shake her as if that'll bring her out of her stupor. I know good and well it won't. I've seen my fair share of overdoses.

“Sweetheart, what did you do?” My voice doesn't sound like my own. “FUCK!” I double over, ripping at my hair until the follicles detach. Choked sobs fall from my throat. This can't be real. Her lifeless form falls against my chest. I pull her tighter against my sternum, cradling her head and stroking her mane. My body rocks back and forth with her in my lap like a maniac. I . . . can't . . . fucking . . . lose . . . her. I can't move. I can't fucking speak. Her hair spills over her pretty face, sending a shockwave through my system.

It's Isolde all over again. It was my fault. I destroyed her, shattering her resolve until she couldn't handle being on this planet anymore. For the first fucking time in my life, tears surface in my eye sockets. Saliva pool along my lips.

“Zain.” The words hardly leave my throat, choking me in an asphyxiating grasp. I rock harder.

“ZAIN!” My voice grows louder and more insistent. The world moves around me in slow motion. My heart beats out of my chest. It feels as if the ground beneath my feet will open and swallow her whole, ripping her away from me. Never have I needed something as much as I need her. Call it selfish or self-medicating myself with her presence, but I need her. I cling tighter, slumping down alongside her, letting my body plummet to the hard floor. She cannot leave me. I'll never let her go. Even in death, she will be mine. Zain and Vesper appear in the doorway, but I am unable to form a Goddamn sentence. Air is stolen from my lungs. My brain is fucked. Their eyes fall to her limp body. Zain instantly pales.

“You did this! You fucking did this, Kieran! You pushed her to the point of no return! I told you how fragile she was! What—” her choked cries muffle into Zain's shoulder as he reels her into his arms. He's always been the levelheaded one. I’m so fucked. Right now, I can't move my limbs. Her skin grows cold along my cheek.