Chapter 14
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I am not a licensed demolitionist.
Viktor
Don’t call Crimson. Don’t call Crimson. Do not call Crimson .
It’s a terrible idea. It will end about as well as my love letter, which I printed off in the dead of the night because I wasn’t doing much sleeping anyway. She tore it up. Immediately. And then she called me a coward. And all her other words speared me through the heart.
I don’t even know what I’m expecting Crimson to do. Tell me all Crisis’s secrets and give me the plot beats that make her fall madly in love with me? I’m not interested in that, especially since I know what Romance beat sheets look like.
They all include third-act breaks predicated by doubts that rear and grow in order to allow that massive breakup to make sense.
In stories, a grand gesture heals those breaks, and we see the happily ever after.
In real life, quitting is a habit that becomes a pattern that becomes an addiction.
And if I know anything about addictions since I’ve been allowing myself these blissful tastes of Crisis chilling on her laptop in bed, or Crisis with her hair damp from a shower, or Crisis just being Crisis in my vicinity, I know that the best way to stop an addiction is to never start.
I don’t need all the answers.
I just, desperately, need a clue.
“Viktor,” Crimson’s regal, tender tone slips sweetly through my cell phone as I give in, bracing my head against the wall in Crisis’s and my stall bedroom. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Are you alone right now, Crimson?”
“I’m driving home from Cris’s. Why?”
I close my eyes. “She’s not in the car with you, is she?”
“No, we went our separate ways after bidding our fish child a lovely afternoon.” Trickles of amusement tangle in her voice. “Why? Are you calling to talk about Crisis?”
I cup my hand over my eyes. “Yes.”
She hums. “Is it about the massive crush you have on her, or about the fact she hates you?”
Breathless, I jerk away from the wall. “What?”
“Both things are increasingly obvious, and I’d dare to suggest, they even feed into each other. Abuse craves abuse. It’s a natural, age-old story that keeps the vicious cycle spinning.” A blinker sound click-click, click-clicks in the background. “So? What do you need me for?”
I don’t know why I’m stunned. Crimson has always been cunning, sly, smart enough to see through every bad business deal and every good lead. She is squandered in her family. Absolutely squandered.
Shuddering, I sit at the foot of the bed on my side of the pillow wall. “You haven’t…told her, have you? She doesn’t know, right?”
“Don’t insult me, Viktor.”
“Sorry.” I swallow. I forge on. “Why does she hate me?”
“That’s not my secret to tell either. Try again.”
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. “If I asked her about it…would we be able to reconcile?”
“Ooh.” Crimson’s voice lilts with a smile. “That’s a beautiful question. I was expecting something insipid like how can I make her fall in love with me? ”
“For the record, that’s my next one.”
“Well then, I’ll start there with the obvious answer of you can’t make someone fall in love with you.”
Plunging my fingers into my hair, I murmur, “I figured.” I wet my lips, staring longingly at the dog bed pillow I’ve been sleeping on for the past three nights. “Are you going to answer my other question?”
“I don’t know what she’d do if you asked her outright about why she hates you. She believes she’s got you fooled. Learning she doesn’t could shatter her worldview.”
“She is skilled in the art of deception. Her reasoning is always thoroughly researched, and she’s…she’s…” My heart pounds as I rub the scar on my brow. “She’s so…small. Innocent. Everything about her makes me want to trust her lies. Delude myself into thinking she cares about me and isn’t trying to manipulate me at every turn.”
“How’s that feel?” Crimson asks, gently.
“It makes me feel like a kid again.” It hurts to breathe. “I don’t want to go back there, Crimson. But I can’t stop myself from wanting her. I know she’s bad for me, but I can’t believe she’s bad. Not if you’re her friend. Not if she puts this much dedication into everything she does. I just can’t stop myself from picturing what it would be like if she loved me instead.”
Heartless, Crimson says, “It’s wonderful. When she chooses to love someone, it’s wonderful. It almost makes you believe in yourself. She loves as deeply as she hurts, and there are no half-done jobs when it comes to her feelings.”
“How can I reach her without losing her?”
Crimson chuckles. “Isn’t that just the question… I don’t know. Beyond being in the right place at the right time when some guy drenches her in coffee, I don’t know how to weasel love and affection out of the woman. I’m still trying to figure out what I did that made me so worthy of her trust.”
So that’s it then? I just continue pining until my heart can’t take it anymore?
I just keep suffering for her? To see her smile while I bleed?
Is there no better way?
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Crimson says. “She’s got walls on top of walls erected to keep her safe. Breaking in could shock her. If it’s any consolation, I am rooting for you two.”
No answers. Some support. My gaze drifts to the pillow wall separating the bed into two sides. “How little do you recommend shocking her?”
A puff of breath that’s almost a laugh reaches me. “Well, there’s an idea. If she feels safe hating you, Viktor…what do you have to lose? Making her hate you more won’t send her running like a love confession might. You let her get away with an awful lot. Stop. Set some boundaries. See what happens. Because, at least from where I’m sitting, it seems like nothing’s going to change until something breaks.”
That’s a terrifying idea.
But it’s the best clue I’ve got.
So, I take down the only wall I know I can control, and hope I survive the night.