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Dornan pulled a pack of cigarettes from his top pocket and lit up, taking a deep breath. I stared at the tip of the cigarette, hypnotised by the way it burned bright, leaving grey ash in the wake of fire.
Dornan must have noticed I was transfixed on his cigarette, because he took one more drag and offered it to me. I took it. Why the hell not? I’d never been much of a smoker, other than a few stolen moments as an experimenting teenager, but I already had a death sentence. Maybe a little lung cancer would get me out of this shitty world a fraction quicker.
I closed my eyes, letting my arm hang loosely over the side of the tub. Every now and then, I’d take a drag or a sip of whiskey, but mostly, I just lay there and prayed the warm water would wash away my terrible sins.
There were so many. So many sins. I should have tried harder to yell. To scream. Just one scream could have gotten their attention. Hell, for all I knew the car that passed ours while we were screwing in the back seat was Karina and Pablo and my father.
A lump formed in my throat that all the cigarettes in the world wouldn’t be able to burn away. The whiskey dulled it slightly but didn’t take it away for more than a second.
Something brushed against my cheek and I opened my eyes to see Dornan stroking my face.
I began to weep as I remembered how I had pulled him deeper. Harder. How I had kissed his mouth with a passion and a desperation I’d never experienced before. The way he’d made me tighten around him, despite the horror I’d just witnessed.
‘What are you thinking now?’ he asked. His tone held no malice, only casual interest.
‘I’m thinking about what a bad person I am,’ I said despondently. I took another drag of the cigarette and tilted my head back, blowing a cloud of smoke above me. It resembled how I felt: as if a grey cloud hung above my head, colouring everything in darkness.
‘Why?’ he pressed. ‘Because they’re alive, and they think you’re dead?’
I looked at the ceiling, tapping ash into the water where I heard it sizzle faintly.
‘Because I’m alive, and my boyfriend is dead,’ I whispered. ‘And even though your people killed him, I’m still somehow drawn to you.’
He nodded. ‘Did you love him?’
I stiffened, looking at him worriedly. Did I say yes? Did I say no? He’d warned me not to lie to him. I weighed up the cost of a lie over the cost of the truth. And finally, I just held my hands up in confusion.
‘I don’t know what you want me to say. If I say I don’t, I’m lying. If I say I do, will you hurt me?’
He smiled and shook his head. ‘I won’t hurt you. Tell me about him. Tell me how you met.’
I eyed him cautiously. ‘Okay,’ I said slowly. As I told him the story of Este and I, I remembered to leave out the details of my accidental pregnancy. Of our son. I would hold that card close to my heart until it was prised from my cold, dead hands.
Or until Murphy voiced it for me. The reality that he knew about Luis, and that he could use it against me at any moment, was terrifying.
After I’d finished, I realised I had gotten rather carried away with telling the story. I must have been talking for fifteen minutes or more. Dornan hadn’t interrupted, other than to get more whiskey and light fresh cigarettes for both of us. So, by the time I was finished, I was exhausted, tipsy, and my throat felt numb from all the nicotine.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. ‘I don’t want to make you mad.’
‘I enjoyed your story very much,’ he said, in that deep, throaty way of his.
Tears filled my eyes and a strange ache took up residence in my chest, as I looked up at this frightening, beautiful man who ruled my entire existence. ‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Because,’ he said, tucking wet hair behind my ear, ‘you loved him. I like hearing the way you speak of him. It’s . . . tender.’
That couldn’t be it, though. He was far more diabolical than that.
‘And?’ I pressed him.
‘And,’ he said, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. ‘One day, you’re going to speak about me like that.’
I didn’t respond.
I didn’t know what the hell to say to that.
Afterwards, when I was wrinkled to prune status and the water had turned cold, he hoisted me out of the tub and wrapped me in a fluffy white towel, carrying me to the bedroom.
He laid me down and pressed himself into my back, his body hugging around mine like a protective cocoon. It was comforting, in the strangest way.
