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“You can’t do this!” she protests, following me towards the door, her slip strap falling off of one shoulder.
“Actually, I can.”
“But why? I don’t understand why I have to be down here. It makes no—”
I whip around, furious at her gall, furious that she’s under my skin, furious that she has the power to draw me down here in the first place. “You’re down here because that’s where you belong.”
She flinches back but she doesn’t back down. In fact, those blue eyes of hers just burn a little brighter. I’ve thrown more lighter fluid into the fire.
“You’re pathetic, you know that?” she hisses. “You do this every time. Every freaking time. Any time you get close to me, or talk to me, or let me in just a little, you freak out immediately afterward and you push me away. Don’t think I don’t know exactly what’s going on.”
Anger surges through my body instantaneously. Fuck lighter fluid—this is dirty fuel, the nastiest fuel possible. It’ll hurt later. But for now, it’s viciously effective.
“If you knew exactly what’s going on, then you wouldn’t be foolish enough to assume there’s anything between us.”
Her eyes flicker. “Thereissomething going on between us, whether you like it or not. The last few weeks—something has changed—”
“You’re right. Somethinghaschanged. But not for the better. Don’t you get it? I wasplayingwith you, baby. That’s what I fucking do.”
It’s shallow and petty and I fucking hate myself for saying it even as the words come out of my mouth. But she believes it. Without a moment of skepticism, she swallows my ugly lies right away.
She believes without a shred of lingering doubt that she’s meaningless to me.
Hell, maybe it’s better this way. Better for her to believe I don’t care at all than to believe that I care too much.
Fuck if I know for sure, though. I’m riled up and frustrated and horny and enraged at myself for getting into this situation in the first place.
“Nothing is going on between us. Nothing ever will. It was all about convenience. You were in my house; you were clearly willing. All you were to me is a shiny new toy—and I like breaking in my toys.”
Tears shine in her eyes. Each and every one of them makes me want to bite my tongue right off. “Y-you’re lying…” She backs away, pale and trembling.
It’s better this way,urges the sickeningly cruel voice in my head.Keep going. Push past the point of no return.
“Why would I lie? You saw the women that came before you. What makes you think you’re any different? I just had to pretend in the beginning, to give you a reason to stay. It was easier than I thought—”
“Don’t.”
“—but like all new things, the shine wears off. The novelty wears off. You’re no different.”
A lone, fat tear slides down her cheek. She turns and runs into the bathroom. But even after she’s slammed the door on me, I can hear her crying. Loud, hurt sobs that echo inside the walls of my head.
What have I done? What the fuck have I done?
I push down the panic and try to think rationally. I did what Ihadto do.
So why does it feel so fucking bad?
48
ALYSSA
It’s been days since our blowout.
The tape I pasted over the cameras has been removed. Svetlana brings me trays of food three times a day, but most of the time, the trays go back up untouched. I’m sure she’s informing Uri of that fact, not that it changes anything. He still doesn’t come back down here.
Which checks out, really. He told me that he didn’t give a shit about me. I was the fool who was holding out hope that he was lying. And I wouldn’t be doing that if I didn’t have feelings for him.
Stockholm Syndrome is a motherfucker, as it turns out. I’m a therapist’s wet dream at this point. If I didn’t laugh about it, I’d have to cry about it, and Lord only knows when that would end.
