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Roman’s confession to using drugs and fear of hurting me swirled around inside my head. I slowly pieced the puzzle together, and Roman’s weird mood swings made much more sense to me now.
I’ve never really seen him taking the drugs, but I can tell by his mood if he is high or not, among other things. Sometimes, there’s a look in his eyes, a darkness that surrounds him. Other times, he seems unhinged and barely in control, and in between those times, he acts like he doesn’t have a worry in the world. He jokes around, laughing, even though it doesn’t always seem genuine.
Besides my constant worry of him using too much and losing control, I have had one other thing on my mind.
“What happened to that man the other night?” I ask Roman as we sit in the kitchen eating breakfast together. I chew the piece of apple until it’s all but liquid.
“Why does it matter?” His response makes me frown.
“Because I want to know what happened.” The look in Roman’s eyes tells me I shouldn’t push for an answer, but I want one. I narrow my gaze, meeting his with the same determination.
“Seriously, you can’t just let it go?” He shakes his head. Anger surges deep inside me. Why doesn’t he want to tell me? Everything feels like a secret with him, and I hate it.
He kills people every Friday night, wears their blood on his fists like an animal, so why is it so hard for him to tell me what happened?
“Why won’t you just tell me the truth?”
“You really want me to say it out loud?” he yells, twisting toward me. I can see the mask of fury overtaking his features.
“Yes,” I yell back, trying to brace myself for what he is about to say. I know it’s not something I’m going to want to hear, but I still want him to say it.
“I fucking killed him!” He stands up suddenly, the chair tipping over and crashing to the floor. His body vibrates with anger. “I fucking killed him because he touched you. Is that what you want to hear? That I strangled a guy with my bare hands?”
His hands grip onto the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white. I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise. He’s teetering on the edge, and I don’t want to push him over, because I don’t know what will happen. Right now, I wish I could find those pills and flush them down the toilet.
“You didn’t have to kill him, Roman. You chose too. Yeah, he was being a jerk, but you can’t go around killing people just because they do something you don’t want them to.” My voice comes out weak, soft.
Roman’s once soft gaze hardens. “Why does it matter why I did it? I fucking did it, and I’d do it again, and it’s already done. Scum like that doesn’t deserve to live. Would you rather I had let him touch you? Hurt you? Killing him was easy, like a slow jog.” He smiles, but it’s not his typical warm smile. This one is dark, sinister.
“I didn’t even blink. Do you know how many people I’ve killed, Sophie? How many men I’ve made bleed?”
I have no idea, but knowing he killed two in one day without any guilt chills me to the bone.
“No, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see you as a killer, Roman.” My grip on the spoon in my hands is hard, the metal digging into my skin. Roman leans into me, his eyes roaming over my body, like he’s trying to decide where to take his next bite.
He hasn’t acted this way since the night we had sex, and I don’t know how to handle him when he’s like this. His mood swings give me serious whiplash, and while I want to think he wouldn’t hurt me, his warnings are clear.
“Why not? What would you like to see me as, Sophie? A white knight? Prince charming? I’m a murderer—it’s what I am and what I’ll always be. Learn to deal with it or…” he trails off, as if he’s afraid to finish. Deafening silence hangs between us for a moment.
“Or what, Roman?” I let go of my spoon, and it falls into the bowl with a loud clatter. I watch as he releases his grip on the counter top and runs his fingers through his unruly hair. He’s grappling for control, afraid he’ll say something he can’t take back.
Exhaling deeply, he shakes his head, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
The doorbell rings, interrupting our argument. Roman pushes from the island, giving me a grim look as he heads to the front door. Once he disappears around the corner, I let out a breath.
I don’t know what to think when he’s like this…what to say. Part of me wants to hug him and tell him he’s going to be okay while another part wants to slap him.
