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Softer words had never hurt more as she raised her head and looked at him. “What?” She’d heard him and yet her mouth and brain refused to compute what her heart knew.
“Roll the dice Ma Petite. The test isn’t over.”
Beth returned to sobbing in his lap. “I don’twantto be the right hand.”
“You don’t have to be, Ma Petite. It’s not too late to leave this place.”
The pressure in her chest built until she fought for air. “Leave what place?” she barely whispered, anguish twisting her face as she looked at him. “Leave… you? The swamp? Leaveus?” she gasped, sucking in gulps of air.
He didn’t need to answer her. It was there in his tormented eyes, and nothing hadeverhurt more to see. She made her way to her feet, her insides throbbing as she looked at the table. Then the dice. Nameless, ugly things swam in her head as she stared, never hating the sight of anything more.
She was at the table now, taking the dice in her hand. She threw them down feeling like she was in a nightmare. She rolled the highest possible number and reached for the jar on the table, daring to hope. She found the paper with the number twelve and opened it.
The words blurred and she blinked the tears away.Using the knife, make nine cuts on my chest.
She paper shook in her hands then dropped to the table. Her breaths shook with the rest of her as she realized it was the same number as the last. Her mind swam as she dumped the jar of folded papers, reading one after the other. They were all the same.
“It’s not fair,” Bishop said softly. “It’s not logical. It doesn’t make sense. But that’s our reality. Things happen that aren’t fair. That aren’t logical. It requires things we have nightmares about. It threatens those we love.”
“I know what you’re doing,” she gasped with eyes closed. “I understand it. And…if life ever brings this to my doorstep…I woulddealwith it.”
“It’s at your doorstep now,” he said evenly. “You need to deal with it. And if you can’t…now is the time to decide that. Because when therealnightmares come, you won’t have that choice.Iwon’t have that choice.”
“But this isn’treal,this is you making up a stupidtest.”
“This blood is real,” he yelled at her. “Thispainis real. It’s why you can’t do it,becauseit’s real, it’s unfair, it’s illogical. And youknowI’m right,” he said with knowing regret. “But if you can’t function with a little pain, how will youevermanage the bigger?”
She slowly wiped the tears from her face.
“Beth. Maybe you would be able to do the right thing in a real situation. But my position doesn’t allow me toguessat that. Some things I have toknow.And as my right hand, I have toknowthat you’re capable of handling the worst nightmares.”
Beth fought to get control of her breaths, unable to find a place to hide from the truth of his words and the ugly task before her. Shecouldn’thurt those she loved. It waswrongto. And yet one day she might have to. For a goodness greater than her own.
Beth found the knife on the floor and picked it up. She turned and locked gazes with Bishop for many seconds, standing immobile on the crossroad, burning in the fire he’d lit all around her. She forced her legs to his side, latching on to the hot love in his gaze as she straddled his lap. Their stares held as she stroked his beautiful chest. “How long…and how deep do you want these cuts?” she whispered.
She didn’t close her eyes. She didn’t hide in the silence as he stared back at her.
“Three inches long,” he said softly. “Half an inch deep.”
She blinked her tears away and nodded, looking at his chest. She lowered the knife to the far left peck and covered the blade with her other hand, feeling the cutting edge of the blade with all her fingers. She moved it slowly over his chest, careful to perform the job to the exact specification. She moved an inch over and repeated the agonizing step as she held back the pain building in her chest.
“I love you,” he whispered, bringing her sobs gushing out. She forced them back down, blinking the tears from her eyes before making the third, perfect cut. She let out several gasps when his fingers stroked her face. It filled her with an unbearable need and longing. To please him. Fulfill him. Protect andcomforthim. Even if it felt like it might kill her.
His chest rose and fell as she fulfilled what felt impossible. “You are so beautiful, do you know that?” he said, his voice a soothing salve.
At the fifth cut, she used her robe sleeve to gently wipe the blood flowing down his abs. The seventh cut came with the glide of his fingers along her neck, making her heart hammer.
“Two more,” he barely whispered.
She gasped when her tears dripped onto his cuts. “I’m sorry,” she strained out, hurrying to the eighth one when her strength faltered.
“Last one sweet angel,” he whispered, gliding his fingers over her collar bone then cheek.
She stared at his chest after the ninth cut, dabbing at all the blood flowing. She’d brought that blood. “I need…to wash and bandage them,” she strained, raising her gaze to his face.
He placed his hands on either side of her head and pulled her mouth to his, kissing her with the softest reverence. “This test is over, angel. Cut me loose.”
****
