Chapter 29
How do you know for sure you’ve chosen the right path?
How do you know you haven’t lost yourself?
And if you have, how do you get yourself back?
How do you avoid turning into a wild beast when living with ravenous wolves?
How do you trust yourself? How do you discover yourself?
How do you stay loyal to yourself? How do you stay yourself? How do I know who I really am?
Voices outside of my door made me open my eyes.
My right eye opened just fine, but the left one responded with a gnawing pain, chipping at my sanity like a vulture picking at a dying animal.
I went to touch it but even a light graze made me wince.
I pursed my lips and tried to sit up, leaning against the headboard. I wanted to whine and cry, but I clenched my teeth instead.
Leaning back, I began to take deep breaths, trying not to focus on the pain.
It’d pass. It’s not forever.
Sana opened the door and our eyes met.
For the first time ever I could see emotions clearly on her face. The shock, confusion, bewilderment and, most likely, fear.
She quickly wiped off all emotions from her face and began setting up her things the way she always did.
“My whole body hurts,” I croaked.
She looked up at me and wheeled in the IV stand without another word .
I could sense her nervousness.
Gloves, caps and syringes, everything that was usually under her full control, was now slipping from her grasp.
Wonder why she got so scared. Was she afraid of becoming an accomplice in his shady dealings? Or maybe she thought the same fate awaited her, too?
“He did this.”
Her hand paused for only a couple of seconds before piercing my skin with the needle.
“He wasn’t the one beating me, specifically. But he dideverything to make sure it happened. He wanted me dead.”
I whispered the last sentence and shuddered.
Did he really want to kill me?
I didn’t know.
Maybe he just needed the necklace.
Then why did he let it fall to the floor like a useless trinket? A trinket that nearly cost me my life.
I remembered regret in his eyes when he saw me. That expression would be hard to forget since he rarely showed any emotion other than anger.
“Aren’t you afraid he’d do the same to you?”
She said nothing.
“He doesn’t care about people. They’re nothing but tools for him. I’d be afraid of working for a man like that. A monster. Because you can never be safe around him.”
She kept filling the syringe.
“He’s evil. How can you work for him?”
She examined my body, ignoring my words like she couldn’t hear me.
“I don’t know, how long I’ve left until he decides my life’s of no use to him anymore.”
I grabbed her hand.
“Sana, please, help me. All I need is... ”
“I can’t help you.”
The pain in my chest felt like her words slashed my heart with a scalpel.
“But why?”
“I work for him because he pays for my son’s treatment. My son has been in a coma for almost 8 years.”
She raised her hazel eyes to look at me.
“They were best friends at the university. Eric decided to pay for his treatment himself, asking for nothing in return. But I’m not that kind of person.
I wanted to repay him. He didn’t want to hear it, but I kept coming here every day, begging him to hire me.
I couldn’t sit around and wait. I wanted to help my son somehow. ”
My throat felt dry and I swallowed my saliva, wincing in pain.
“I always knew what his family did. I simply didn’t care. Because when your son is lying there like a vegetable, the only thing you can do, other than give in to the endless pity party and suicide ideations, is to start working to try and restore faith in at least something in this world.”
I didn’t take my eyes off her.
“I’ll stay by his side for the rest of my days, no matter what. I know I could never pay him off. I’ll be in debt to him even in my next life. He might be true evil to you, but to me he’s a savior, the kindest man the world has to offer.”
She looked away and began collecting her things while I watched her.
I felt my steely conviction shaken by a whirlwind of new information. I began to doubt not only who Eric was, but everything I so eagerly believed in.
I could never imagine that someone who’s willing to kill without mercy would care about someone else’s life. That he actually gave a damn. That he had some kind of values. Maybe even morals?
He’s the villain in my story, but is he really that bad ?
He told me I didn’t know him well. Now a faint desire to get to know him better awoke in me. I wanted to see all sides of him. Wanted to know who I was fighting against.
When Sana left, Marta knocked on the door. She brought me a tray of food. With a gasp, she dropped it to the floor.
I saw fear and shock distort her face as she left the room, her quick steps ringing in the hall.
Her reaction was hardly a surprise, since the entire left side of my face looked like a bloated slab of purple meat, and my bloodshot eye wouldn’t even open.
My neck showed a purple collar from the hands that tried strangling me. My nose was swollen. And I didn’t even want to talk about the rest of my body. I was barely recognizable, surely.
I spent the whole week in bed, struggling to get to the bathroom and back.
It hurt to breathe. Hurt to swallow. Hurt to lie down. Hurt to move. Things I was used to became a luxury.
I envied my past self, remembering how easily I did my routine tasks without paying them any mind.
I woke up every morning, thinking, “Is it over yet?”
The pain would get worse at dawn, as if the sun was bringing it with its rays, punishing me for the sins of the past long forgotten.
I was supposed to feel better, but the relief never came.
Nightmares haunted me, tormenting me every night.
Every night I would find myself in that room. His hands would strangle me every night. Those red eyes would stare at me night after night. And every night I would die.
Sana offered me sleeping pills, but I was afraid I’d not be able to wake up from the nightmares and would actually die.
I believed it was a real possibility.
Nightmares ate away at me, robbing me of sleep. At night I would wake up screaming, covered in sweat .
Marta brought me food like clockwork. She looked at me with the kind of sympathy I’d not seen in a long while.
One night, she took a seat next to me, closed her eyes and read a prayer.
I was moved by the gesture, even though I wasn’t religious myself. I didn’t know what I believed in, or whether I had any faith left at all. But I was glad to see someone actually cared for me in this cold prison.
I’d finished my dinner and put the tray aside when I heard a knock on the door.
It wasn’t Marta. I told her she didn’t have to knock anymore.
The door opened and Norman walked in.
He stood in the door, watching me silently.
I wasn’t happy to see him.
He cleared his throat.
“You can take a sit, if you want.”
He looked at the armchair and nodded.
He sat down, still not saying a word. This was beginning to piss me off.
“Did you come to sit around in silence?”
“No. I wanted to ask. Do you need anything?”
“No.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.”
He sat there, nodding his head, looking at the floor.
What difference did my state make to him?
I was still mad at him for telling the reaper about the note. But I was also mad at myself for being so naive. It was my fault he found out about it.
“Why are you here?”
“I came to see how you’re feeling.”
“Now you know. Anything else?”
“How’s your face? ”
I raised an eyebrow, despite the pain.
“You can see that yourself.”
“I heard you have nightmares.”
“Did Marta tell you?”
He nodded.
“Yes. I do.”
“About what?”
I frowned.
“What’s in it to you? Why did you come here asking me about it?”
“I wanted to see how you’re doing. Can’t I?”
“Not after you told the reaper of the note I left for Bell. Now he knows about her, thanks to you. So no, Norman. You can’t ask how I’m doing.”
He kept nodding his head.
I was fighting the urge to tell him to get lost.
“Fair enough.”
I sighed audibly.
“Norman.”
“Yes.”
His eyes looked at me expectantly.
“Close the door behind you.”
He nodded a few times, still deep in thought. Finally, he got up and left.
I fixed my blanket angrily.
He doesn’t give a crap about me, just like everyone else in this house. Why did he come? What’s with the sudden curiosity? What was he going to do with this information?
My hands froze.
Norman wasn’t asking for himself. He’s asking for Eric.
But why didn’t he come to see me himself? Was he so busy, he sent one of his henchmen to do the job for him? Maybe he wanted to see if I was well enough to be sent to my next tormentor ?
Or he’s just a coward. He was afraid of seeing me himself because I evoked the emotions he clearly wasn’t used to feeling.
Maybe he didn’t want to see me because he was repulsed by me. Looking at me now was not for the faint of heart, after all.
I didn’t know what kind of a man he was.
I saw the regret in his eyes. He didn’t get mad when I stabbed him with the scissors.
He shielded me. Didn’t let me harm myself.
He said, he didn’t want me to die. He washed me with such care. He really did regret this.
Last time I saw him, I told him to leave my room.
Did this mean he didn’t want to hurt me? He wanted to know how I was, but didn’t want to upset me? Was this his way of looking after me? Did he care about me?
This was insane.
I closed my good eye, trying to fall asleep, but when I felt myself dozing off, my eye shot open once again.
Maybe he’s looking for forgiveness? But what would he need my forgiveness for? He didn’t need it. What did he want then?
I turned my head to look at the clock.
It was one in the morning.
I got out of bed and decided to go downstairs to the kitchen to have some water.
Thoughts about Eric were swirling around in my head on my way there.
I froze when I got to the door.
In the moonlight, I saw Eric pouring himself a glass of water from a clear decanter.
He was clad only in dark blue pajama pants with a black checkered pattern.
I could see every muscle moving on his back despite his slight movements .
I was about to turn around and leave quietly when I saw him freeze.
He slowly turned to face me and our eyes met again for the first time after all those weeks.
His obsidian eyes looked dark as night.
They didn’t look as dark as I remembered them.
They no longer scared me.
His gaze was intense. I wanted to look away, but then I realized it was just a habit of mine. I didn’t really want to.
I felt my whole body tense up as my emotions turned into a knot of incomprehensible feelings.
The air felt saturated with something here. It was as if it’d transformed under his pressure. Like it was on his side.
His eyes slid lower. He looked me over languidly, moving from my face down to my body and legs.
I was wearing a grey cotton T-shirt and short shorts. The pajamas were clinging to my body.
I felt the growing tension, but there was no fear behind it this time.
I let my gaze slide over his body just as brazenly.
His raven black hair was tousled.
He saw me looking at him and he began to drink slowly, never taking his eyes off mine.
I watched his throat bop up and down. Watched as the water spilled and ran down his chin, neck, chest and abs.
I swallowed hard.
Finishing his glass, he filled it again and walked up to me.
“Open your mouth.”
His gruff whisper made my heart race.
I opened my mouth.
He placed his thumb on my chin, tilting my head back slightly.
He began slowly pouring water into my throat. I grabbed his bicep to let him know I needed a break .
I saw his jaw clench and relax.
His eyes looked restless.
I couldn’t read the feelings behind them.
“I can drink on my own.”
“I know,” he said under his breath.
I opened my mouth and tilted my head back.
The smile on his face grew wider. It sent a pleasant sensation through me.
He kept pouring the water into my mouth until it was gone.
A tiny trickle of water leaked from the corner of my lips and ran down my chin and neck.
Two of his fingers brushed my collarbone and I flinched.
They went from my neck to my chin.
He slid them up until they touched my lips. His fingers slowly stroked my lower lip, as if smearing the water over it.
My breathing was heavy and I couldn’t understand what was happening.
Pulling his hand away, he began to leave careful, feather touches on the left side of my face with the pads of his fingers.
His eyes took in every detail of my face, and I remembered how ugly it was now.
I put my chin down.
He gently lifted my chin with his thumb and index finger.
“Stop hiding from me.”
“I’m ugly.”
“Ugly and you will never mean the same thing. You’re the most beautiful girl the world has ever seen. That I’ve ever seen.”
My heart skipped a beat.
I placed my hand on his chest.
I wanted to make sure he still had the heart Sana told me about.
It was beating. Thumping almost as hard as my own was.
I licked my lower lip.
My hand grazed his abs, moving down to his groin .
I was about to go lower, but he grabbed my hand. I felt like someone threw a bucket of cold water at me. Only now did I realize what I’d done.
Shame showed on my flushed cheeks as anxiety took me over.
Avoiding his gaze, I pulled my hand out of his grip and ran out of the kitchen.
I ran into my room like my feelings and thoughts were chasing me.
Why did I do that? I shouldn’t have touched him. This was Eric. The reaper. My face’s disfigured, mom’s in a coma, four girls were dead and Bell was in danger because of him.
He wasn’t a good man, and never would be. He was a murderer and a criminal. And people like him might have had days when they did some good things, but did that make them good? Never.
He was the evil trying to break and change me.
Flowers wither as he passes. His hands are elbow deep in blood. His soul belongs to darkness.
I had to run from him, not towards him. I had to fight, not let him touch me.
It didn’t matter, how handsome he was on the outside. Because inside of him was a dark world, filled with pain, devastation and suffering.