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He gasps as each word is spoken. Obviously not understanding any of my words or how a single one could be true. But we’ve bent the rules before. Last time we played, all of his were truths. So he knows that all of mine could be lies. Or all truths. And he doesn’t get to protest the results.
That’s how we play the game now. The truth is always well hidden, even from the game itself.
“Your turn,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“I will never fuck you.
“I don’t regret letting you go.
“My real name is Rinaldi.”
I don’t react. I knew whatever he chose to tell me was going to be shocking. But after our last game, learning I’ve been gone six years instead of three, nothing he says will surprise me now. Nothing.
But his words still hurt. And all of them hold an air of truth.
He’s said plenty of times that he won’t fuck me. I’m damaged to him. Why would he want a woman another man’s touched and abused? He has plenty of playthings back at his club.
And of course, he doesn’t regret letting me go. Nothing touches him. Even the complication of me returning.
The last one makes the least sense. His real name is Rinaldi. Is Enzo his middle name or nickname or something? It seems completely out of left field if it isn’t true.
They could all be truths. They could all be lies. But I’ve made my decision.
From Enzo’s hungry stare, it’s apparent he has as well.
“They are all lies,” he says.
I take a deep breath in and out. Deciding how to answer so he will believe me. Because one of them is the truth, the rest are lies. I shake my head slowly, waiting for the confusion and acceptance to clear his face.
One second passes, then another as we both stare. He tries to read my face. Tries to understand which of the three is the truth—which pain I never suffered. Or how I could make one of them fit my truth in my messed up head, even though it truly happened.
Finally, he slumps in his chair and says, “You were never tortured. At least you don’t feel you were because it would make you weak. It is the narrative you can control. They beat you, but torture requires the other person to submit to it. If you blocked them out, they never got in.”
I don’t confirm or deny his statement. I just choose my answer, preparing for the answers I’ve been waiting years for.
“Your name is Rinaldi.”
“Good answer. Yes, my name is Rinaldi.”
I narrow my eyes, not understanding. And it’s clear he feels he needs to give me more confirmation. But I believe him. My true name is Katherine after all, even though I’ve always been Kai.
He clears his throat loudly, and the doors open again. Langston, Zeke, and Westcott all walk in.
I cock my head. Have they all been outside listening this entire time?
“What is my name?” Enzo looks to the men.
“Your name is Enzo Rinaldi,” Langston says.
Zeke and Westcott, both nod, confirming the statement.
“Thank you; that will be all for now.”
The men file out of the room.
“What was that about? If you say your name is Rinaldi, then I believe you. No need to drag out men that would lie for you to prove your point.”
