Chapter 11
AMbrOSE
September
I never meant to break her. At least, not entirely. Not like this. Intimidate her? Sure. She needs to be aware of my power, needs to be somewhat fearful of me, needs to know she can’t run.
But any fight or determination she’d had before is gone. She’s a shell of a woman, broken by her circumstances. Circumstances that I, in part, created.
She’s an unwilling captive with someone she views as a heartless monster. The jury’s still out on whether or not I actually am one. Even I can’t decide. Most of the time, it’s easier to pretend to be the villain she wants me to be.
I shouldn’t have let her go to that hospital alone, but she also needs to see every side of death in order to embrace it, no matter how painful. Still, maybe I should have given her a less traumatic lesson first.
She had gotten under my skin last night when she returned, and when I snapped, she hadn’t even attempted to fight back; She had simply told me that if I were going to kill her, I should “get it over with.”
But I saw her reaction when I raised my voice.
She flinched, not because I was loud, but because she’s lived too long with the kind of men who get loud before they get violent.
Holding a knife to her throat was not one of my finer moments.
I think that maybe I was hoping for a reaction, anything to break through the hollow numbness consuming her. It didn’t work, though.
I wish she would fight, yell, something to show me she’s still holding onto any spark of feeling, but it’s like she’s gone nearly catatonic, and I have no clue how to change that. I worry I’ve only dragged her deeper into the darkness she’s been drowning in.
My only rule for myself is not to get entangled in humans’ lives, but that’s exactly what I have done.
I should have never interfered, but I also couldn’t stand to watch her die when she has the potential to live a life away from all the hardships she’s faced.
She’s not ready to be on her own yet, though; she has no money and no plan, and her mental health is just as precarious as it was previously.
I was the one who gave her hope, ironically enough, and now she’s lost it again.
It was a choice where I knew I would be the villain either way.
This was all a terrible idea. She doesn’t even know she’s alive because of me, and I do not know if that would make her hate me more or less.
As soon as she took that blade to her wrist and I had to choose between waiting to take her life or making sure she survived, I did something I haven’t done in a very long time: I chose to save life instead of taking it.
It was easy to slip her good-for-nothing husband’s badge back onto the bathroom countertop where he frequently leaves it.
I keep telling myself that I should forget about her, that I should tell her the deal is off and she is free to live the rest of her life.
I won’t, though. I can’t. While I justify it to myself by reasoning that it’s safer for her here than anywhere else, that’s not entirely true. My own selfish motives are still guiding me.
Just as her obsession for me had grown before she knew my true nature, so has my fixation on her grown as I’ve watched her, even though she despises me. Even though I deserve every ounce of hatred she throws my way.
I’m trying, though. Trying to be better, trying to make her feel some semblance of safety.
I’ve been closing the kitchen cabinets softly rather than letting them slam closed after noticing her flinch every time it’s too sudden or loud.
If I wear my shoes inside the house, she freezes at the heaviness of my footsteps, so I’ve started taking them off at the door.
When she scans my expression as soon as I walk into a room, I give her a smile, even if it’s a teasing one, or make a joke, even if it’s a sarcastic one.
As soon as she rolls her eyes at me, it shows me that she’s annoyed but also feels safe enough to express her annoyance.
She’s felt unsafe in her own home for so long that every conversation is met with calculated hesitance as she attempts to decipher my emotions instead of focusing on her own. Her nervous system has been on edge for so long that everything holds the potential of a threat.
I may have broken my moral compass a long time ago, but I’m not entirely a monster. I just hope she’s able to see that in time.