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“For a while there, Romy, you had me believing that we weren’t so different. Two scarred souls cut from the same black cloth. I didn’t question your secrets because I didn’t want you to question mine. I know I should have broken you when I had the chance.”
The woman in the Polaroid, her face flashes in front of my eyes, appearing against the sheet of darkness like an old film roll. “I wouldn’t be the first woman you’ve broken, would I?” I choke out.
“How’d you—?”
“The woman in the picture. The one in your office.” My whole body tenses, but I’m alive with courage I shouldn’t have. “What did you do to her?”
A few beats pass, then he lets me go. Dissolves into the darkness. I should feel relief, but the fear of the unknown makes panic rise up my throat.
When he speaks again, he sounds a million miles away. “Her name is Emilia.” I surprise myself when I scoff. “You almost sound jealous.”
And that’s when a bitter laugh escapes me. It’s manic and fueled by delirium. “I am jealous, Donnacha. Jealous that you could love a woman so much that you have her picture tucked away in your desk. How fucked-up is that?”
“Don’t be; she’s dead.”
Through the blood pounding against my ears, I can hear his footsteps snaking large circles around me. Giving me a wide berth, he’s staying way out of my reach.
“Wanna know the truth?” he rasps.
I stay silent.
“After we destroyed your father’s empire, I left for a little while. I needed a break, so I decided to travel. Clear my head. The problem was my head was so fucked-up, that I couldn’t go half a year without killing. I didn’t know how to do anything else. Still don’t.” His voice is devoid of emotion like he’s detached himself from the memory. “I drank, did drugs. Drove the fastest cars I could buy. The adrenaline didn’t come close to what I felt down in the Tunnels. And then I met Emilia in Paris. She was a prostitute who let me take all of my dark desires out on her. I was surprised that giving in to my darkest sexual desires gave me that same hit. We traveled Europe, then Southeast Asia, and the whole time, she’d let me break her in any way that I wanted.”
“And then you killed her.”
A pause. “No, she killed herself.”
My heart drops. “Did you love her?” I whisper into the darkness.
He pauses. “No. But she was so innocent. She didn’t deserve what I did to her. When I got back to the States, I threw my little black book in the trash and never fucked a broken woman again.” He lets out a strangled laugh. “Then you came along. A beautiful, hardened shell full of all your little secrets. So many of them that you’d probably rattle if I shook you. You presented the perfect challenge, and my god, how I wanted to ruin you. That night I broke into your apartment, I knew that, despite the guilt, I hadn’t learned my lesson with Emilia. I knew I had to have you in the same way, break you in the same way. I also knew that I shouldn’t, especially as I got to know you because I knew I wouldn’t know how I’d cope if you ended your own life like Emilia did.” His groan slices the darkness. “But my god, you made it so tempting.”
“I’m not her.”
“And I never wanted you to be.” I hear his heavy breathing. “You said you were impossible to break. I was a bastard for even trying.”
“I lied.” His breathing stops. Gulping in the damp air, I add, “About why I’m impossible to break. It’s not because I’d rather die than let you break me. It’s because you can’t break what’s already broken.”
Footsteps again, this time, they’re heading farther away from me. He’s leaving. Sweat dots my skin, and I find myself breaking into a run, chasing the echoing thuds. “Donnacha—wait!” I garble, “I love you. I fucking love you and all of your sickness. I love every psychotic bone in your body and every lick of pain you inflict on me.”
I crash into something hard. Donnacha’s hands fly to my cheeks, and he grips me there. “Remember what I said, Romy?” he hisses viciously. “This was never going to be a love story. I was never your knight in shining armor. People like us don’t get the happy endings like they do in the fairy tales.” His fingers drop off my chin. There’s a breeze as he storms away. “I just hate that I was never proven wrong.”
Bright white light floods the space as a door in the distance opens. Donnacha’s shadow cuts an imposing silhouette against it. Then it slams, plunging me back into darkness.
Alone.
I sink to the dusty floor and let out a sob.
I was wrong. It turns out, there are parts of me left to break.
