Chapter 22
Knowledge gives me confidence. My beliefs shape me. My principles support me. I want to stand on sure ground no matter what. I wanted to watch myself grow, not fall to decay.
It’s only been a few minutes since out last conversation when he broke the silence,
“You know what’s funny?”
I turned to look at him.
“We’ve been on the road for over an hour. This is the third and longest conversation we’ve had so far. You ask me questions about anything except my name. Am I that uninteresting to you?”
He tilted his head to the side. His dark eyes stared deep into mine.
My eyebrows knitted together as my lips parted.
“Eric. My name’s Eric.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“It doesn’t suit you.”
One corner of his lips twitched a little.
“And what does?”
The reaper, obviously. But I wasn’t going to tell him that.
I realized it was no use arguing with him. If someone believes the sun’s black, you won’t change their mind. Because it really is black to them.
So I told myself there really was no point in appealing to his sense of justice or guilt. Because he had neither. Just like he lacked any convictions, principles or values. It’s no good trying to persuade, outsmart or fool him.
I was wasting my time and energy. I needed some outside help.
“You don’t look Scandinavian. Italian, more like. Salvatore would’ve suited you better.”
“Salvatore.”
He said it and got lost in thought.
“How old are you?”
“30. Old enough?”
He was smiling.
“Yes.”
The corner of my lips perked up in a small smile and I immediately scolded myself for it.
“Do you...”
I looked at him curiously.
“Do you like art?”
“Art? Like, paintings? No. I don’t have an eye for them whatsoever.”
“What about horseback riding?”
“No. I’ve never gone horse riding in my life.”
“Why Philosophy?”
“I wanted to understand the world better, find my own meanings of things.”
“Did Philosophy make you draw a clear line between the good and the evil?”
“I’ve always been like that. Philosophy has nothing to do with that.”
I looked down at my hands resting on my knees.
Why was he asking me things he knew anyway?
The fact that he knew a lot about me while I knew next to nothing about him didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t like this power imbalance.
“Do you like reading? ”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a favorite author?”
“No. I didn’t like choosing just one.”
“Do you know who hired people to raid our university?”
He immediately got serious, slipping his mask back on.
“Yes.”
His answer was curt, letting me know he wasn’t going to go into any details.
I was impatient, I knew that. I was rushing things.
The thought that he knew the truth but refused to tell me for some reason was eating at me.
“Who gave you that silver ring?”
I wanted to tell him it’s none of his business and that he could go to hell. But maybe our interactions could bring us closer. And this would allow me to get more answers. I really needed to know who killed him, the reaper or those men?
I could feel it was him with every fiber of my being.
“My boyfriend.”
“Why did he give you a men’s ring?”
“He didn’t. It’s his ring. He left it with me temporarily. As a promise he’d come back to me,” I whispered the last sentence.
His elbow was braced against the bottom of the glass window while his head rested on his knuckles. His eyes never left mine.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
His lips slowly broke into a smile.
“Is there a candidate?”
My gaze fell back to my ring.
“I don’t see you as a boyfriend.”
“Neither do I. I could see myself as a husband.”
I frowned. A strand of hair covered my face.
“A husband? Are you actually into relationships?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I like women. ”
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear with a gentle movement of his fingers.
“Do you want a family?”
“I do.”
I wasn’t hiding my surprise.
“I thought you’ve been dreaming of taking over the world and raising havoc or something like that.”
He picked a lock of my hair and began twisting it round his fingers.
“Having a woman I love by my side won’t get in the way of me conquering the world or building a family with her.”
I thought he was tricking me, that he was going to laugh in my face mockingly the next moment, but he didn’t.
“Why are you so surprised? Because I like women? Or because I want to be a husband? Or maybe because I want to start a family?”
“All of the above.”
“Do you want to get married?”
“Yes.”
I was rolling the ring with my right hand finger.
“Have a family?”
“Yes.”
I looked up to see him smiling.
His smile was so genuine, so beautiful and truly happy that I forgot about his true nature for a moment.
“You have a nice smile.”
I didn’t notice I was smiling back.
Immediately wiping the smile off my face, I looked away. This made his smile grow wider.
I was fidgeting in my seat. The car seemed too small.
“What’re your hobbies?”
Other than killing people, I wanted to add but held it in.
“Weapons. Books. And... paintings.”
“Quite unusual. ”
“What hobbies did you expect?”
Torture and murder.
“I don’t know. Cars, women and money.”
One corner of his lips perked up.
“I’d call those my passions, rather than hobbies.”
“I can’t imagine you dating a woman. Building a long-term relationship.”
“That’s because you don’t know me well enough. I’m full of surprises.”
That was true. He wasn’t just bewildering, he could make you forget how to speak.
“How do you see me?”
“You seem like a guy who gives no promises. The type to bluntly state they’re here to use you and leave right after, not staying the night. Maybe I’m wrong, it’s just based on your looks.”
“What about my looks?”
“You’re too handsome to be faithful.”
He laughed, touching his lower lip with the tips of his fingers.
“You’ve painted a portrait of a coward, someone afraid of intimacy.”
“Aren’t you afraid? Do you even care about stuff like that?”
“Few things scare me, and this is definitely not one of them. I appreciate intimacy. Emotional. Physical.”
“You’re not as you seem.”
“Neither are you, Zoe.”
I kept rolling the ring on my finger.
“Did you notice how easy it was?”
“What was?”
“For me to make you relax around me.”
Tension swept over my body. I swallowed my growing anxiety and sat up straight.
“I wasn’t relaxed.”
“Didn’t your mom tell you that lying is bad, Zoe? ”
My anger flared up like a lit match falling into spilled kerosene.
“And didn’t your mother teach you...”
His left hand gripped my throat. He squeezed my throat, cutting off my oxygen. My hands clawed at his arm.
“What, Zoe? Tell me, what did she not teach me?”
His eyes were burning with hatred and true evil. This was the real him. He was no longer hiding behind sweet talk and a cute smile.
He looked down at my lips, then his gaze met mine again.
“You should watch your mouth, little liar.”
He let me go and I began to cough, gasping for air.
I sat up and kept rubbing my sore neck.
“You think I’m evil. You haven’t met the real evil yet.”
Why did that sound like a promise?
We turned off the highway and onto a gravel road, driving deep into the dark woods.
We were going in pitch darkness. No lamps illuminated the road anymore.
I was rolling the ring faster. I could feel his eyes on me.
I hesitantly turned my head to look at him and caught him watching my hands closely. I stopped touching the ring.
My heart was racing, my thoughts scampering about like ants.
Where were we going? Why was it taking so long? What were we going to do? What was I going to do? Was I going to get killed?
I returned to rolling the ring mindlessly.
His palm covered my hands.
“Don’t be so nervous.”
“Where’re we going?” I blurted out nervously.
“The auction.”
“What kind of auction?”
“Art auction.”
“You want to buy a painting?” I asked suspiciously.
“Yes. ”
My anxiety slowly faded, but never went away fully.
He didn’t move his hand. It stayed on my left hand, lightly stroking it with his index finger. I wanted to shake his hand off, but decided to sit still instead to avoid provoking him any further.
The car drove up to the wrought gates of an estate.
Gravel rattled under the wheels of the car. The area was illuminated by dim lights stuck into the ground. An old mansion came into view. Yellow light seeping through the French windows lit up the lawn. Cars were parked next to it.
Well-dressed men and women walked the green carpet on their way to the entrance.
Anxiety rang in my head like a tiny annoying bell. It made me ask the question that was tormenting me, begging to be let out.
“Am I going to die tonight?”
He was looking out the window.
“Do you want to die?”
“No,” I exhaled.
“Just stay close.”
Why didn’t he answer the question?
I didn’t notice I’d been gripping his hand and he held mine all that time. I let it go and he immediately pulled away.
The car doors opened and we got out in sync.
He walked up to me and interlocked our fingers. That felt too intimate.
Justin and I never held hands like that when we were together.
“Do we have to hold hands?”
“We do.”
“Maybe I could take you by the arm?”
He leaned in and whispered in my ear,
“They need to know I’m fucking you, not keeping you company.”
I opened my mouth and immediately closed it .
The feelings of shame, awkwardness and anxiety made my breath hitch. I stared straight ahead.
I wasn’t going to die tonight, was I?