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The realisation hits me like a thunderstorm, like that day I fell to my knees in the middle of the road, struggling to breathe through my tears.
But this time, I don’t bother to look up and ask for all of this to end. It won’t.
This is the reality I have to face. The fact that the man I’ve been giving myself to every day is my sister’s killer.
What’s stopping him from killing you, too?
A shudder snaps my shoulders together, and perspiration covers my skin, causing the nightgown to glue to my flesh.
“What is wrong with you?” Jonathan’s brow creases. His beautiful face twisting in disapproval. That face is the devil’s. Just like Dad’s.
“N-nothing.” If he knows what’s going on in my head, he’ll finish me off sooner rather than later. I need to be as smart about my survival as I always have.
“It doesn’t look like nothing, Aurora.”
“It is.”
He grips me by the ankle and I yelp when I fall, my back meeting the soft mattress. I’m splayed in front of his savage eyes as he plants a hand at the side of my face and speaks in a low, chilling tone, “Better opponents have tried to fool me, and it’s always failed. So how about you tell me why the fuck you scooted away from me just now?”
The need to fight him pulses into me like second nature. The survival instinct that’s been my modus operandi since I was sixteen claws its way to the surface. However, I don’t act on it for two simple reasons. One: Jonathan will easily overpower me. Two: I’m injured and fighting would be the dumbest move.
Smart. I have to be smart.
“I…I just need to rest.”
“Try again, wild one.” He sounds clipped and fierce. He knows I’m lying to him, and honestly, I have no clue how to fool someone like Jonathan or if it’s possible to do so.
All I know is that I need him the fuck away. I will not end up like Alicia. I will not let him suck the life out of me, then eventually kill me.
I escaped one of the most notorious serial killers, and I can escape him, too.
Smoothing my tone, I say, “I really just want to sleep. I’m exhausted.”
His knuckles touch my forehead and I suck in a breath through my teeth and release it through my nose.
To my dismay, it’s not because of fear. Far from it. My body hasn’t gotten the memo that Jonathan is a real danger to my life and I need to stay the fuck away from him. My stupid skin is still tingling like it does every time he touches me. I’m still getting caught in his orbit as if it’s the only place to be.
A line slowly forms between his brows. Whether it’s because of worry or that he doesn’t approve of my expression, I don’t know. It could be both.
“You’re a little warm, but the pill will take effect soon.”
“W-what pill?” Oh my God. Did he already start poisoning me?
“Painkillers. The family doctor came to look at you earlier and prescribed it. He also said the bruise at the back of your head isn’t serious and will eventually disappear.”
Now that he’s mentioned it, something tingles beneath my hair at my nape. It’s from when I was hit, but I’ve forgotten about all of that. Compared to the real danger hovering over me, that one doesn’t even register.
Is it sad that I consider an attack less dangerous than this situation? Probably, but my brain has been trained for survival, so immediate danger always gets my attention first.
“Can I sleep? It must be late, right?”
“Three in the morning.”
“You brought the doctor over this late?”
“It’s his job, and he knew my demands when he agreed to become the family doctor.”
“Is there anyone you consider a human instead of something you buy?” I don’t know why I asked the question when my main focus should be to get him the hell out of here.
