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I look around the circular room that is covered with paintings.
I nod.
She looks up at them. “Wow, they are incredible.”
She stands up and walks over to the closest one. She hovers her fingers over the portrait of a man, getting as close as she can without actually touching the painting. “I can feel everything that you felt when you painted this man. Hatred. Fear. Heartache. Pain.”
I walk over and stand behind her as I look at the painting she’s looking at.
“Who is it a picture of?”
“A memory that I will never forget.”
She narrows her eyes a little when she looks at me and then walks to the next picture. “And this one?” she asks, looking at a painting of a woman and her child.
“Same.”
She nods, looking at them and then at me. “They are paintings of people you’ve hurt.”
I nod.
She sucks in a breath. “They’re beautiful.”
“They aren’t beautiful. They are paintings of pain and torture. Paintings that show me at my absolute worst.”
They’re my nightmares that haunt me every night when I sleep. I thought painting them would allow me some peace, but it didn’t. Nothing helps.
She turns back to me, and I see the tears in her eyes. She hates me for killing them. There are dozens of paintings in the room, and they aren’t even all the ones I’ve done, just the ones that haunt me the most. I’m the devil. She’s finally realizing that one of the men she has been fucking for weeks is the monster she was trying to avoid.
She can’t forgive me for what I’ve done.
I turn away because I can’t see her cry from the pain I’ve caused these people. I can’t deal with her hurting, too.
I feel her hand on my face, and I immediately push it away, not willing to face her right now.
She grabs my face and turns me toward her. “They’re beautiful.”
She leans her head against my forehead, and I feel her tears roll from her eyes to down my cheeks.
I suck in a breath, not liking being so close to someone. Not liking sharing someone’s pain like this. I hate it, but I also never want it to end.
Nina pulls away and looks up at me with tears still in her eyes.
“Kiss me.”
I narrow my eyes, not understanding why in the hell she would want to kiss me.
“No.”
“Kiss me.”
“No.”
Her eyes search mine, but she’ll find nothing but emptiness there.
“Kiss me.”
“No.”
