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Rinse. Repeat.
Oh… what a treat. One day soon, my dark goddess and I will kill people together… before I take her with passion.
I wouldn’t cage her. She would have the freedom to flirt, lure guys in, and beguile them with her beauty to bring them back to our place afterwards. Then therealfun would begin. I’d teach her what to do, how to kill, how to be the perfect psycho sex slave—and she would learn fast—it’s what I loved about her: her intellect. Studying her had become a passionate hobby of mine.
I planned on taking her to nightclubs with me, pick up a willing participant for an “m/m/f threesome,” and bring him back to our place. I’d drug him up and instruct Aria to tie the poor bastard to a chair and make him believe he was getting a strip tease of his life. And once he’d be close to combusting, I’d hand Aria my favorite blade—the one with her name engraved on it… and I’d tell her to stab the bloke repeatedly. I’d stand behind her, kissing her neck, fondling her perky tits, whispering dirty talk in her ear before I’d bend her over, pound her out, all while the poor bastard is bleeding profusely. I’d be her glorious angel of death with white wings stained in blood—except I’d always protect her. Forever. She would never fear me or my darkness. She would embrace it and love it as if it’s her own.
I never had a partner join me in my killing rituals. I wanted Aria to experience the extraordinary power of taking a life; it transforms you as you realize your own godhood. It wasn’t a psychotic fetish, it was an evolution of mind (consciousness). Most people are so bloody stupid and programmed to remain that way. They can’t think for themselves—easier if someone else does it for them. I mean, really, they’re all morons… a mass flock of sheep determined to accept their own slavery.
FUCK. THAT.
I don’t like to follow the rules and never will. Our government is not our friend—they never have been. Capitalism and consumerism control the “fine citizens” of Western society. Maybe if everyone smoked weed, they’d finally pull their heads out of their arses and realize that economic elites are the ones controlling the world, not presidents, prime ministers, or “God.” It pisses me off how idiotic societies are. Freedom is a lie. We’re all living in a camouflaged cage. However,mylifestyle is freedom in its purest form. I do whatever I want, and I get away with it because: (1) I have a superior intellect; (2) I’m rich. Simple as that.
Society is broken down as a pyramid of social classes, with a taxonomy for everything. If you’re at the bottom, you’re screwed and a waste of space. If you’re higher up, you can live like a king or queen. And if you’re in the top one percent… well, then you can live like a god. Who do you think supports the foundations of that pyramid? The slaves who work hard, not knowing that their everyday existence is to keep those elites ahead of everybody else. Any American who thinks that wealth is distributed fairly is a bloody moron. Free election of new world leaders does not abolish a civilian’s status as a slave. What’s the difference between slavery in ancient Egypt and the contemporary world? “Freedom” is the new slavery. If our government and media advocate our freedom, then surely we must be free, right?
Anyone who believes that is just another fool in our duped society. Fuck everyone and fuck the rules, including the false prophets and hypocritical “holy saints.” Churches and cathedrals are full of rapists, robbers, pedophiles, and liars; it’s the devil hiding behind religion, disguised as “God.” We live in a godless country. People masquerade behind faith. I’ve concluded that this world is a cosmic egg for a reason—it’s a prison planet that recycles souls. It’s the “circle of life.” In other words, once you die, you’re just reincarnated back to this shithole.
I wanted to initiate Aria into my liberating lifestyle and empower her. I wanted her to feel that surging rush that was indescribable. I wanted to free her. I wasn’t a monster. Monsters weren’t capable of love. But I loved her… so deeply. I saw her inner demons, and I wanted to nurture them. When you love someone, you don’t make them resist or change their true nature. You accept them as they are. You help them embrace their darkness, and you drown in it together. If the shadow was entirely corrupt, then at least we would drown in that corruption together… our love would be the light to guide our way in the darkness. Love would be the catalyst that would balance our light and dark; it was alchemy. I would be right there by her side. I knew she had been through a lot, but I could take her pain away. I could fuck the pain away. Aria belonged tome. Sex would be healing, and I was confident I could heal her wounds if she let me in.
I didn’t like the idea of potential competition. That’s why I often went through her phone while she was sleeping at the hospital, deleting Ryan’s texts. I was tempted to kill him and get him out of the way. I even went as far as premeditating his murder, but there was no need to follow through. Aria wasn’t staying in LA anymore. The kid couldn’t love her like I did. No man could ever love her the way I do. I would allow no one toimpede our future. She and I were connected. We had a bond—an understanding. I knew that if I showed her the darkest parts of myself, it would traumatize her… But she would grow to love me… because I believed she had the same darkness. It was there, only hidden. All I had to do was remove her mask and make her face her true self. I possessed Pandora’s Box. I wanted to place it in front of her and encourage her to open it.
And when she does… she’ll be mine,I thought, wrapping a towel around my waist.
I boxed almost all my things. Tomorrow would be moving day, and I would not sell my loft. I had purchased property in some other states and South America. I was going to leave LA and fly out to NYC. Three years ago, I had purchased an apartment downtown and was moving back in. As for Aria’s shrine of photos… I had a beautiful mural waiting for me in a secret room I had created—identical to the one in my LA loft—my original masterpiece. When I moved to California, I knew I’d have to renovate, and it was worth it because it was her story.Ourstory. Maybe I’d even show it to her someday.
Most people worship the god of their Abrahamic religion; others worshipped science, sports, music, Instagram baddies… I worshipped Aria. She would worship me too once I’d give her back shots while tugging her luscious hair and awakening her shadow like a dark initiation. My goddess needed to be freed. I always got what I wanted, and I wanted her. She was marked. She was mine.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
ARIA
NYC: the most crowded city in the United States. This place had a significant impact on commerce, finance, media, art, fashion, technology, and entertainment. I was back in the big apple, surrounded by skyscrapers and diverse little towns on every street corner. Some people might think this city is a cesspool of evil, but it was home to me. I grew up here. My best friends lived here, and I had amazing memories with Noah in New York.
Back tracking a couple months… my kidney transplant was a success. My body hadn’t rejected the kidney Evan had donated to me. Doctor Peters had said I was in the clear and on the road to recovery. I was worried I’d have to take medication post-transplant, but because of medical advancements, Evan and I were vaccinated with a miracle serum that would eliminate lifelong dependency on medication for the kidney donor and recipient. We had two things in common now: one functioning kidney and matching scars. At least we wouldn’t have to pop pills every day for the rest of our lives.
Leaving the hospital, I studied for my finals at home and recovered from the surgery. I had missed graduation, but eventually received my high school diploma. My friends weresad when they found out I was moving, but I promised I’d keep in touch. Jessica made me this beautiful scrapbook full of pictures of us and our friends. I hadn’t been able to go to that Tiesto concert with Ryan; the event was in July, and I was still recovering in the hospital. I had given my ticket to Jessica and insisted she go with Ryan instead. I often felt like he and Jess would have made a beautiful couple. It was nice leaving LA knowing I had friends who genuinely cared about me, even though it was a few.
To celebrate my academic success, Noah had surprised me with three gifts: a pair of diamond-studded earrings, first class tickets to Rome, and a key to his new penthouse in New York. I didn’t know what I had done to deserve these presents, but he just loved spoiling me. Our life was changing so fast… Just the thought of sleeping in Noah Hunter’s bed made my heart explode. He was genuinely committed to me—to us. Yet somehow, I was always afraid he would change his mind and leave. My rejection and abandonment trauma still plagued me.
By mid-August, I parted ways with my exciting life in California and drove to New York with Noah. Mom had insisted I move back into our old apartment so she could take care of me, but I wanted to stay with Ally and Jade; they had already moved into a townhouse for the summer. Technically, the duplex belonged to Allyson’s mother, Mrs. Jones. When Ally’s grandparents passed away last year, Mrs. Jones inherited the family home. Jade and I were still going to pay her rent, but at least Mrs. Jones was kind enough to lower the cost. Living on a measly student income meant careful budgeting.
Our townhouse was on the West side of Manhattan—about a ten-minute walk away from Columbia University, in a wonderful neighborhood near the shopping district. The Apollo Theater and Marcus Garvey Park were just steps away, with some amazing restaurants and museums within walking distance.The three-story brownstone had a small staircase leading to a red entrance door. Mrs. Jones had placed some flowerpots on the front steps. The backyard garden was small but beautifully landscaped—perfect for summer barbeques and cocktail parties. Moving in with my friends was a big decision. I always knew these girls would be my besties for life.
My parents and Noah had sorted out all the legal stuff that needed to be changed (government documents, my birth certificate, etc.), which had been little of a hassle since Noah was a lawyer and had connections. It was hard to abandon his last name, but I ended up keeping my father’s surname, even though I’d been against the idea a month ago. My name didn’t define my identity; it was just a label. Aria Mitchell sounded foreign to my ears, but at least the name liberated me. I was free to love Noah the way I desired.
Returning to New York hadn’t gone how I wanted… because Noah was not in New York with me. When he accepted his position at Keller & Trent, it was on the condition that he work at the firm’s second location in London, England. He was to be there for three months to assist the legal team with a big case that was going to trial in January. They required his expertise, since he was the best at his job. He had told me he would be back in no time, but every day that passed seemed long and torturous.
Being thousands of miles apart made me sad, even though we communicated regularly through emails, texts, and phone calls. Just when I thought we could finally be together, our plans got sidetracked. I should have been happy he wouldn’t be away for twelve months. It was only ninety days, but felt like ninety years to me.
On a positive note, by the time Noah would return, the renovation of his penthouse would be done. We constantly exchanged pictures and ideas on home decor. I loved browsing through interior design magazines. Though I enjoyed that morethan he did. I appreciated how he put effort into things I cared about. Noah made me feel like I was still a part of his life; he wanted me involved in every aspect—including decorating his home…ourhome. I was in love with him, and those feelings only intensified every day. No one had clued in about us. We decided it was best to keep our relationship to ourselves, at least until he came back to the city. Then we would figure out how to tell our family and friends. I got extremely anxious every time I thought about telling my mom the truth. How would that conversation even go down?
Um, hey, Mom… I’m in love with your high school sweetheart. We’ve been in a secret relationship for months. I know you had him first, but he’sminenow.
Yeah… no.
Allyson had started dating someone in June. I liked her boyfriend, but sometimes they’d stay up all night going at it, and I’d have to turn up my music to drown out their noises. It was frustrating because I was missing Noah. Did I have a guy brain or what? It wasn’t normal to think about sex so much. Jess would have simplified it for me: “Aria, you need to get laid.”
It sucked being in a different time zone than Noah. He was five hours ahead. Sometimes he stayed up late to work and we would talk on the phone, or I’d distract him on FaceTime and get a little naughty. I was still insecure about my body, especially since I was fashioning a surgical scar along the left side of my abdomen. Knowing I had taken something from Evan made me feel guilty. That horrible accident could have been avoided if I had just stayed home that night instead of driving to Evan’s. I blamed myself.
