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With that he breaks another promise and touches me with his lips, with his broken heart, with his goddamn mutilated soul as he slides his tongue into my mouth and kisses me with a desperate kind of passion that surpasses anything I’ve ever felt before.
With every press of his lips, every stroke of his tongue, he pushes against the barriers of my hate, trying to reach the parts of mehebroke. His fingers grip my face as though he’s afraid I’ll slip through them. His body presses against mine as he takes comfort from my beating heart and silent whimpers. He’s kissing the girl who lay dying on the wet grass, the woman who, at one point, had felt more than hate for him, who’d felt empathy.
But I’m different now.
I’m only pieces.
I’m a sum of all the shattered parts that I can no longer glue together.
And those shattered parts are surrounded by an impenetrable wall thatheput there, that The Masks built with their cruelty, their sadism, their abuse.
My walls are too thick now, so despite the heat from his body, despite the way his heart thrums against my chest and the passion I feel as he kisses me, my shattered heart remains protected.
I don’t fight his kiss. I allow him to believe that I’m a willing participant. I kiss him back, knowing that as I do he believes I’m forgiving him whilst all I’m doing is building my defences.
The kiss deepens. My heart hardens as his softens, and with it the edges of another familiar feeling begins to seep into my consciousness. As we kiss a vision begins to unfold, the strength of it a weight that sits heavy on my soul...
“What the fuck have you done?”The Collector accuses as he steps into the room.
“It was a mistake,” Konrad says, eying his father as he kneels beside a naked, pale-skinned woman dusted with bruises. She’s unconscious. Unconscious, but breathing.
Behind him, Leon stands, his expression one of shock. The pair are no more than thirteen or fourteen. They’re boys who’ve been forced to grow up under the brutal rule of a man.
“A mistake? She’s supposed to be dead. I leave you both for one minute to take a phone call and this is what happens? You were supposed to remove the body, not fucking revive her.”
“I d—didn’t mean to do it. I wasn’t thinking...” Konrad stutters, standing on shaky legs.
“You didn’t mean to do it? You weren’t thinking? Seems to me, son, all you’ve done is think. Feel...”
Konrad flinches as though slapped. “No. I don’t—”
“It was my fault,” Leon says, interrupting him.
The Collector’s gaze snaps to Leon, eyes narrowing. “Your fault?”
“Yes, Sir.” He nods, his gaze unwavering.
“Tell me how Konrad bringing this woman back to life is your fault.” He folds his arms across his chest, raising a brow. “Did you possess his body? Did you step inside his skin and force him to do it?”
“I told him to do it,” he replies, passing Konrad and stepping over the woman. “I can be very persuasive.”
“You persuaded him to revive her…why?”
“Leon—” Konrad begins, his voice wavering.
“To see if he could,” Leon replies with a shrug.
“To see if he could?” Their father repeats.
“Yeah. It was a bet. I bet he couldn’t do it. Turns out he could.”
“And how the fuck do you know how to bring someone back to life?” Their father asks, turning his attention to Konrad.
“I read about it in a book. I figured it wouldn’t be all that hard,” Konrad replies quickly, getting to his feet.
“In a book?”
“Yes. I—”
