Chapter 19 LIAR
XIX. LIAR
The clock clicked past one after midnight.
She was still not here.
She broke the promise.
She left me.
She left me.
A sound tore out of me as I shot up from the bed. I slammed into the night cabinet, grabbed it with whatever strength still crawled inside me, lifted it, and hurled it at the mirror above the sink. The glass exploded into a storm of tiny, glittering pieces.
My palm beat against my forehead. Hard. Again. Again. And again.
Wet strands of black hair slid over my skin, and the dripping dye streaked down my face like black tears.
“She left me,” I whispered, my voice trembling with anger. “She left me.“ My hand spread over my chest. I tapped once, twice, then struck until it hurt. “ME!“ I screamed.
The voices in my head swelled and twisted. I grabbed fistfuls of my hair and pulled as I paced across the room, bare feet dragging over the floorboards.
“Me,” I muttered. “Me.” My foot lashed out at the empty air. “My Doll left me.”
I cried out, “How could I trust her?” My palms slammed against the sides of my head. “You will be sorry,” I whispered, breath shaking.
Then I laughed. A sharp, cracked laugh.
“You will be sorry you met me, my sweet little Dolly.” The laugh grew louder, rising from a broken place.
“Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.“ A low chuckle.
“Yes, you.” I tore toward the closet. “You will be sorry.”
A door cracked open below. Mia’s voice drifted up. “She’s still not back?”
“No!” I shouted.
“What if something happened?” she asked. “You have to go check.”
“Maybe,” I breathed under my breath.
Then I snapped, “No!”
I stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at her. My body tilted to one side, off balance, pulled by anger inside me.
“I will find her,” I murmured. My head leaned to the other side. “I will make her sorry she left.”
I stormed down the stairs and shoved past Mia as I reached the door. Every floor I passed felt emptier than the last, like the whole house whispered that she was gone.
My breath came out in raw, animal bursts.
“Dolly.” Her name scraped out of me, rough as gravel. “Dolly.”
At the bottom, I stepped outside. The night air cut cold against my bare skin, but it did not matter. I moved through the yard, past the tents, toward the narrow path that led to her house.
“You never even wanted to stay,” I whispered, my voice shaking with fury. “You never fucking wanted to stay.”
The voices in my skull sharpened, overlapping, snarling her name and screaming mine. My chest still throbbed where I had beaten it. My hair hung over my forehead, wet and heavy, making it hard to see.
I knew these woods like my own pulse. It did not take long before the path opened and her house appeared through the trees.
As I approached, I saw a light on. Someone was inside with her. My jaw locked. My hands curled into fists as the man turned his face.
Rio.
She chose him.
She wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes. He walked out a moment later, and Rocco waited in the truck for him.
She betrayed me.
“You’ll be sorry,” I whispered.
My voice shook.
“You’ll be so, so sorry you chose him.”
I waited a few more minutes, just until she shut the door, and then I walked toward the house.
Through the window, I saw her crying. Her face was bruised, swollen.
For a moment, something inside me twisted, something that almost dragged me through the door to hold her, to ask what happened, to tell her I was here now.
But the voices kept replaying the image of Rio’s arms around her, hissing that she did not care, and my fists tightened until my knuckles burned. I rushed inside.
The front door flew open under my weight. I stood there like a beast staring at her. My breath tore in and out as she lifted her head. She gasped, pushed up from the chair, and stepped toward me. But when her eyes met mine, she backed away.
My foot dragged across the threshold. The door behind me slammed into the wall with a crack that made her jump.
Good.
“You let him touch you,” I growled. “You let him put his hands on you.”
She shook her head quickly, too quickly, breath hitching like it hurt. “It’s not...he was just helping...”
My laugh came out sharp, bending in the middle like something snapped inside it. “Helping?” My tongue curled around the word like it disgusted me. “You cry for him. You hug him. But you can’t even look at me without backing away?”
I took another step. She took another back. The wall behind her waited.
“You think I didn’t see?” My voice cracked. “You think I didn’t watch you choose him over me?”
“I didn’t choose...”
“Yes,” I snapped, louder now, harsher. “You did.”
I moved closer. The house was closing in around us like it knew something was about to break. My fists throbbed, knuckles burning from how hard I had been clenching them, but I couldn’t loosen them. Not now. Not when the image of her in his arms was still grinding against the inside of my skull.
Her lips trembled. She lifted a hand, like she wanted to reach for me.
Or maybe to push me away.
I couldn’t tell.
Didn’t care.
“Good,” I warned, voice lowering to a hiss. “You should be scared of me now.”
Her eyes filled again, tears brimming so fast they blurred her vision. “I didn’t choose him,” she whispered. “He just helped me...”
“You let him hold you,” I whispered back. “You let him be the one to comfort you.”
I exhaled slowly.
“You should have called for me.”
Her back hit the wall as I closed in on her. My teeth ground together. I grabbed her by the neck, my fingers locking around her throat, tightening until her breath began to slip away.
Her face flushed red. Her eyes widened. For one warped second, I thought I would snap her pretty little neck. The thought pulsed through me like heat. Then I loosened my grip and let her go. I stepped back with a guttural sound building in my chest.
“Run, Doll,” I growled. “Run so fast, because I will not be this gentle when I catch you.”
She was already hurt. Bruised. Shaking. I did not ask how or why. She understood anyway. She pushed past me with a broken little sob, tears streaking down her swollen cheeks, and she ran out the door, sprinting toward the woods and the park near the cliffs.
I tilted my head, then turned and let out a low growl. I tore after her, pounding across the ground, closing the distance with every step.
The woods swallowed her. Trees crowded in tight, bark rough and dark, the air thick and cold. She hid somewhere between the trunks. Even without seeing her, I felt her breath trembling in the dark.
“Run, little Doll!” I called out. “But you can’t hide from me.”
She ran. I could hear her lungs tearing for breath, her steps frantic against the forest floor. But she kept going.
And she wasn’t just running from me. She was running from what I made her.
“Fuck off!” she screamed, her voice cutting through the dark.
A laugh ripped out of me.
“Say it again,” I taunted, my steps closing in fast. “Say it, and maybe I’ll fuck you. Off. On. Non-stop… your choice, Doll…”
Her fear skated across her skin. She didn’t stop.
Within seconds, she was at the edge of the cliff. She froze, trembling, pebbles scattering over the edge and falling toward the waves.
I caught her wrist before she could fall. Yanking her back, I spun her into me. My breath brushed her neck, warm against her shaking skin.
“You made me this way,” I snarled, staring into her wide eyes through the smeared paint on my face.
I lifted the blade to her throat. Not hard. Just enough.
“Tell me, Doll…” My voice softened. “Would you die for me?”
She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. She leaned into the knife instead. Cold metal kissed her skin. A single tear slid down her cheek and broke on the edge of the blade.
A quiet laugh escaped me.
Her eyes held mine like she was trapping me in them.
“So easy, isn’t it?” I whispered.
“You lied to me,” she said, her voice cracking. “What’s left to lose?”
“I lied?” I asked, “You are a liar here, breaking promises you can’t keep.”
Her fingers wrapped around my hand, pressing the blade closer. I felt the first warm bead of her blood roll down her throat.
I didn’t smile. I just watched her.
“Would you kill me?” she asked.
Silence.
“Would you?” she whispered, barely audible.
I should’ve answered. Maybe I wanted to. But instead, I stepped forward.
One step too far.
My hand slipped from hers, and the cliff slipped from beneath her.
And she fell.
The ocean opened its mouth, and she hit the water hard.
Waves swallowed her. Dragged her under. Pulled her deeper and deeper until her thrashing arms looked almost like a dance beneath the surface.
A growl tore out of me, a low, primal sound that rose into a scream. My head tilted left, then right. The laugh came next, the same one that always spilled out after a death. But this time, I would not let her slip away. I would not let her die.
I dove in after her. The world rushed past as I held my breath in the air. Then my body slammed into the water, the cold slicing through me. Bubbles raced up my skin as I kicked toward the surface and burst through, gasping.
I spun around, scanning the dark water, and when I saw her, I swam toward her with everything I had.
This was the open sea. We had to reach the cliffs fast, or the cold alone could kill us, and if not the cold, then whatever hunted these waters at night.
She coughed hard, choking up seawater, her eyes barely open.
And together, we pushed through the waves until we saw the cliffs.
I forced her up the rock first, hands burning as I shoved her upward, then climbed after her.
She gripped her arms, shivering. I could see now clearly every bruise she had. I should have asked what happened to her. I should have cared. Instead, I grabbed her and pulled her close.
“Let me go,” she screamed, her voice cracking, eyes brimming.
“Not that easy,” I said. “I own you, remember?”
She went still under my hands. For a heartbeat, she froze like she had turned to stone. Then something inside her broke free.
Her hand shot up and slammed into my chest, harder than before. Her tears still shone, but now her eyes burned.
“You don’t own me,” she hissed.
The words cracked like a whip.
I didn’t move, just laughed.
“You hear me?” Her voice rose, trembling but sharp enough to cut. “You don’t own me. You never did. You’re just a man. A small man who thinks he can carve people into the shapes he wants.”
Something cold slid through my rib.
She wasn’t done.
“You chase, you taunt, you pretend you’re in control…” She laughed, bitter and breathless. “But you’re nothing more than a boy who wants things he can’t have.”
My jaw tightened.
Her gaze flicked down to the hand I still had on her arm. She yanked it free and shoved me back.
“Is that what burns you the most?” she whispered. “That no matter how loud you scream, how much blood you spill, or how deep you dive after me… You still can’t make me yours?”
She leaned in close, close enough that I felt her breath on my lips.
“You don’t get to claim me,” she said softly. “You don’t get to say who I am. You don’t get to decide if I live or die.”
Her next breath shivered out of her, but her voice didn’t break:
“You’re not a god.”
She tilted her chin up.
“And you’re not my monster.”
Her words punched deep. My jaw clenched. I grabbed her, tossed her over my shoulder, and smacked her ass hard.
“You will see a monster,” I said. “You will wish you never opened that pretty mouth of yours.”
I carried her from the rocks through the shallow water to the shore.