Chapter Thirty-One
Roman
Her body against mine makes everything seem like there is no tomorrow as I mull over in my head what I would do if she was working for the feds. Nikolai was right when he said it was dangerous because we don’t know her. But I do know her and everyday, almost down to the second, I see she is beginning to know herself too; to love her sorrows and shame. That they are the puzzle pieces that fit within her peace and kindness, meshing in each other's grooves, flush and vivid. Tonight, she made me understand a piece of myself. Something I never thought would fit within my world, or if it would even fit against my jagged edges, but somehow, the smooth edges of purity flow and melt, solidifying something in me.
I lean and kiss the dip in her shoulder as I circle my fingers around her belly button. I could tell there was something heavy settling on her, like tomorrow was also dim for her. I turn her to face me and see her tears mixing with the water.
“Come here, sweet girl.” I hold her to my chest.
She looks at me and I can see bags under her eyes discolor slightly. These past few weeks have taken a hold. My heart sinks; it was because of me.
I guided this sweet girl into this world when she decided to fall into it, but all I ever wanted to do was to protect her, showing her the sickness of it. That the darkness stews, no matter how much light you think you bring or have in the world. The more I think about it, maybe deep down it has exposed the sickness in me, amplifying what I know about myself. How it has consumed me, and the only way I could ever feel like it is justified, is to bring it to its knees, and make it beg for mercy.
I made her beg for me but not for mercy to be easy or gentle, but in a sense I was begging her to see the beauty in my darkness. To be seen as someone other than evil and that my darkness has a purpose for peace.
I thought there was no motion in moving any sort of destruction from me but there is a heavy feeling in my chest. It isn’t my heart sinking from the pain or despair because it is incredibly heavy and light at the same time. This feeling is foreign and confusing. She is the why to my muse but she is also my light, shining parts of me I never could have expected to have been given, or have.
She put my gas mask on first.
I kiss her cheeks and can feel her eyes close as her lashes brush against my nose. Her hands tighten around me like she is bracing the fall. My embrace tightens around her. I am having a hard time balancing between keeping her safe, creating peace in anarchy, and keeping her close as I try to not fade into my thoughts. Will there be a choice between that tomorrow and if so, do I know which one I will choose?
“You will always be safe with me, remember, you are mine, Cottontail.”