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The beating, the whipping, the knife through my hand. The starvation and hunger pains. My body withering away. Watching Everleigh fade away.
The darkness.
Making love to Everleigh.
Kissing her.
Whispering for hours on end as we got to know each other.
Vincent. His broken body and the look of acceptance in his eyes.
They’re gone, and I’m still here.
Like always, when I think about them, my breathing speeds up, and my heart beats uncontrollably.
Rage overwhelms me, and unable to kill my father, I let out a roar as I start to trash the room. I grab the bedside table and throw it against the wall. I rip the sheets off the bed and flip the base over.
I need to destroy everything the way I’ve been destroyed.
Misha grabs me from behind. “I’ve got you, brother.”
A broken cry is ripped from my destroyed soul, and as I slump to my knees, Misha tightens his hold on me.
“We’ll get through this. I’m here.” His voice is loaded with emotion. “I’mstillhere. Youstillhave me.”
My grief and trauma are too much to handle, and I break down.
With my best friend holding me, my voice is hoarse as I say, “I lost them. After everything, I still lost them.”
“You have me,” he says again.
I grab fistfuls of my hair and shake my head.
Misha lets go of me and comes to sit in front of me. His eyes carry a world of worry and pain. “Talk to me, brother. Tell me what happened.”
Again I shake my head.
He just watches me for minutes.
I shift onto my ass, and pulling my knees up, I lower my head. “Everleigh,” I whisper, my voice filled with unbearable loss. “We were locked in a dark room.”
I only found out afterward Prodi had us for over two months.
“They starved us.”
Misha keeps quiet, and he doesn’t try to comfort me. He’s probably too scared I’ll lose my shit or stop talking.
I don’t blame him. Insane people are unpredictable.
Destructive emotions bubble in my chest. It feels as if the hell we endured has taken up residence in my soul.
The torment will never stop.
“I loved Everleigh,” I whisper. “Love. I love her.” Lifting my head, I lock eyes with Misha. “It feels like I’ve lost my soul.” I give him a pleading look. “I’m still stuck in the darkness, but she’s not there. I can’t think straight. I can’t live without her.”
Misha lifts his hand, and gripping my shoulder, he leans closer. “She would’ve wanted you to live, brother.”
Anger flares through me like a missile. “I wanted her to live! It doesn’t matter what she wants because she’s rotting in some unmarked grave!”
