twenty-one
“Monsters don’t bleed.”- Callisto
“But they’ll kill you,” I whisper. It’s the only thing stopping me from picking up Leo’s discarded pants and doing exactly what he told me to do.
I tell myself that I don't care if they kill Leo, but that would make me a hypocrite.
That’s not the only reason, though. He was right; some people do deserve death.
Some people aren’t redeemable, but Leo is not one of them.
He was a scared boy who fell in with the wrong crowd and became a fearless man with far too many buried demons.
Enough to rival Satan’s legion in the pits of hell.
“They’ll kill me anyway, so what difference does it make? At least they won’t kill you in the process.”
Leo finally looks up to meet my eyes. His are shiny with unshed tears.
My heart breaks a tiny bit more. Leo is concerned for me.
After everything. After I have been so cruel and cutting.
After the horrible things we’ve said to each other.
He’s concerned. For me. His prisoner. Well… not his prisoner anymore.
“Why do you think they’re going to kill you?”
I ask, completely confused by his words.
I replay our earlier conversation in my head, even though it feels like it happened days ago.
I try to pinpoint something he said to make him feel that way, but I’m at a loss.
I assumed this emotional outburst was the result of the talk about his family, but a crucial piece is missing.
Leo revealed his cards to me, but he still has an ace hidden up his sleeve.
“Because I betrayed them. I didn’t do what I was told,” Leo gets out through chattering teeth.
A single tear escapes down his cheek, mingling with the water still clinging to his skin.
His whole body trembles. I want to get him out of the shower and dry him off, but I don't know if I should touch him.
The moment feels fragile. I could attack him right now, and he wouldn’t even fight back. It’s like he wants to be punished.
“How did you betray them?” I ask, curiosity lacing through my tone. Leo is speaking in riddles, but maybe, just maybe, if I ask the right questions, I will finally get some answers. I might actually get to see the full picture of who Leo is, and not the caricature I have painted in my mind.
I already have the proverbial paint thinner out, ready to toss it on that inaccurate depiction, to wash it away for good.
Because right now, Leo is art. He is so broken.
It is heartbreakingly beautiful, and I want to capture it forever.
I want to paint Leo as a man and not a monster.
A vulnerable man who cries and bleeds like me.
“I didn’t kill my sister like he wanted. He told me to kill her today when we found her. He said if I didn’t, it could jeopardize the whole outfit,” Leo’s voice is so detached, it’s almost as if he’s not even speaking to me.
My mind flashes back to the scrapbook I found tucked away in his drawer, the young, beautiful girl inside, and my heart breaks.
“Shh—it’s okay… You didn’t jeopardize anything, I’m sure,” I hush, but Leo clutches his chest, his breaths coming out in sharp gasps.
He slams his head against the wall again, this time much harder.
I jump out of my skin every time his skull makes a dull thud against the tile.
I continue to try to soothe him, but it’s not working.
Nothing I say is working, so I do the only thing I can think to do.
I kick off my socks and climb into the stall with him.
“I did!” Leo yells the second my bare feet hit the wet shower floor. “I fucked everything up. She saw me. She knows me! She’s going to tell someone, and we’ll get caught, and the whole family is going to be taken down because I couldn’t fucking do it. I couldn’t kill her.”
“Shh.” I bend down and pat Leo on the shoulder, trying to get him to stop hitting his head against the wall, but he keeps doing it, broken words woven between each thud.
“I was so fucking selfish.”
Thud.
“I couldn’t kill her.”
Thud.
“And now we’ll all be punished.”
Thud.
“They ‘ll all die.”
Thud.
“I’ll lose my family all over again.”
Thud.
“I deserve it, though.”
Thud.
“Just like the first time.”
Thud.
“I betrayed them, and now I’ll lose them, and it’ll be my fault.”
Thud.
“All my fault because I’m a fucking coward who couldn’t do my job.”
Thud.
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay that you didn’t kill her,” I soothe, wedging my hand between his head and the shower wall.
When he fights me, trying to pry my fingers away, I don't have any other choice.
I drop down between his legs, pressing my body flush against his.
I use my other arm to corral him, wrapping his arms around me.
If he wants to slam his head against the wall, he will have to slam it into me first.
After a few agonizing moments, he stops fighting and pulls my body closer, hugging me tightly, as if I can somehow stop his world from falling into oblivion.
I don’t even notice that the floor is pooling with water, or that my soaked clothes are heavy and freezing against my skin.
I don't care that Leo is completely naked while I’m fully clothed.
All I care about is comforting the man I have only known as my captor, so I thread my fingers through his wet hair and hold him tight.
Maybe I have started to become the captor in all of this.
“He told me to kill her, and I couldn’t. He’s going to kill me instead, but I don’t care. I deserve it. I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t. It’ll be my fault when I lose them, but I couldn’t.”
Leo’s cracked voice is muffled by my shoulder, his large hands gripping the fabric of my hoodie, hanging on for dear life.
I press my hands into his damp thighs, stroking his cold skin to calm him down, but his entire body is shaking so violently under my fingers it feels like I’m attempting to touch something that isn’t even in the same dimension. A fuzzy depiction of something that used to be here but is no more.
“How will Peadar find out that you let Violet live? I don’t think Daron or any of the others will tell him.”
I try to use logic to halt his hyperventilating.
I trace over the tattoos on his arm for lack of anything better to do.
Some of them are rough sketches, as if he wanted to mark important moments in his life, but others are much more intricate.
Like the compass that points to the word *home*.
I trace over the tiny letters, wishing I could have given Leo a home. A real one.
“They are loyal to him,” Leo answers after a few moments.
His body isn’t trembling as much now, no longer resembling a structure being dismantled by an earthquake.
Whatever I’m doing is working, so I move on to a different tattoo, tracing the large, intricate bird on his forearm.
It’s beautifully done, and I am starting to understand why people love tattoos.
It’s placing art on your body the same way I would hang a canvas on my wall.
Leo didn’t have a wall, though. All he had was his skin.
“They’re more loyal to you. They revolve around you like planets do the sun,” I scoff, completely dumbfounded by his answer.
Does he not realize that those men do everything he says?
They would follow him off a cliff if he told them to, and I am beginning to see the appeal.
He is so strong and sure, even when he is trembling on a shower floor.
He’s like the beacon in a lighthouse, guiding someone to their destination.
So bright I can’t ignore it, but it hurts if I look at it for too long. He is magnetic. He is a leader.
“I know you don’t understand, but they’re my family. They’re the only family I have. The first one abandoned me, and now I may lose this one.”
Leo sits up to look at me. The only life left in his steely eyes is the dull reflection of unshed tears.
He looks hollow and defeated. His dark auburn hair is matted to his forehead, three days of dark scruff littering his cheeks.
I want to draw him. To paint him. To hang this version of him in a gallery where no one can touch it because it’s raw and pure. It's the most accurate depiction of humanity I have ever witnessed, and my chest aches from the sight of it alone.
“I know you think I’m a monster, and you’re right…” he starts.
“No,” I cut him off, shaking my head vigorously. Leo's mouth remains open, his brows drawn in confusion at my response. Before he can argue, I continue, “I don’t think you’re a monster. You’re human. You cry and laugh. You have dreams and nightmares. You bleed. Monsters don’t bleed.”
Leo shakes his head, his whole body moving with the motion as he pulls away from me. He looks panicked again, trapped. He braces his hands on the walls of the shower to try to hoist himself up.
“No. No! I am! I am a monster. Monsters bleed. De Luca’s blood was red, the same color as mine. He fucking bled on my hands today, and I didn’t feel bad about killing him for a single fucking second!” His voice gets louder with every word he utters, and I barely manage to cover a wince.
“Leo,” I try to interrupt, but he talks over me, his arms quaking, about to give out any second now.
“I still don’t feel any sort of guilt. The bastard deserved to have his dick chopped off and shoved down his throat. I laughed while torturing the fucker. I watched the fucking light leave his eyes, and I don’t care.”
Leo’s eyes are wide, almost manic as he looks back at me.
I try not to react. Try not to picture De Luca with his own bloody flesh in his mouth while Leo grins with triumph.
I swallow down a surge of bile, the horrific image making me physically sick.
“Please,” I whisper, wanting Leo to stop talking. He is clearly trying to scare me, and it’s working. I can't shake the imagery from my head. I’ve never seen the light leave anyone’s eyes like Leo describes, but it sounds horrifying.
“I don’t feel any sort of remorse for taking his life, and I would do it again!” Leo’s arms give out, his body landing heavily right in front of mine. He grabs my face, forcing me to gaze into his eyes. “I’m a monster, Callisto! Call me a fucking monster!”
“No. You’re not a monster. I will not call you a monster again. I should have never said it in the first place. You said so yourself, there is a difference between people like you and people like De Luca. I can see that now.” I grab Leo’s wrists, but he refuses to relinquish his grip on my jawline.
“No. No. No!” Leo shakes his head, finally letting go of my face.
“You saved Nico when you didn’t have to,” I say, talking right over his outburst. I reach out and grab his face instead, forcing him to look at me. “You’ve never once hurt me, even when I bashed you over the head…”
“No!” Leo interrupts, fisting my hoodie and trying to push me away. But I don’t budge.
I don't falter, my voice rising louder than his as I continue to talk over him. “You wouldn’t hurt the people you love.”
“No!” Leo shakes me, his fingers wound so tightly in the fabric I fear they may break.
“You proved that today when you refused to kill your sister.” I place my hands over his. They’re frigid, but his grip relaxes a fraction.
“Shut up, Callisto! Just shut the fuck up!” Leo shakes his head vehemently, flinging drops of water all over me. One lands in my eye, but I don't flinch, refusing to break eye contact for even a split second.
I move to cup his cheeks with both hands, the scruff scratchy against my palms before he finally stops shaking his head. He averts his gaze, a fat tear clumping his lashes together before spilling over. I lean down, forcing him to make eye contact. “You are not a monster, Leo.”
“We both kill!” Leo pulls away from my grip. “We both do horrible, questionable things! He’s a monster, and I am as well! Call me a monster, Callisto!”
“No.” It’s my turn to deny him.
“Please! Call me a fucking monster!” Leo shakes me so hard my brain rattles in my skull.
“No.” The word waivers because he’s still shaking me.
“Please! Call me what I am!” He stops, grabbing my collar and pulling me closer, his nose inches away from mine.
“Human.” My breath wooshes over his face, finality ringing in my tone.
“I’m a fucking monster!” Leo screams, shaking me one final time before shoving me away.
I don’t allow the distance, pressing myself right back into his chest.
“No. You’re not. Human. You’re human, Leone.”
The Italian word for Lion slips out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Leo doesn’t even notice, just continues to beg me to call him a monster, his voice utterly wrecked from his screams.
I still refuse, softly repeating the word human over and over again.
He tries to punch the shower wall, but I grab his arms, pulling them around me and holding them tight.
I have no idea how long we stay like that.
Leo continues to hold me tight, begging me to call him a monster.
It’s like he needs validation to hate himself, but I refuse to give him that.
I have tried hating Leo—almost succeeded—but over the past few days I've realized I can’t.
I can’t hate him, and I am not sure what to do with that information.
Eventually his screams quieten to hollow hiccups, and he squeezes me like I’m the only thing keeping his world from falling into oblivion.
He trembles against me. It is a good idea to get him out of the shower and into something warm.
I am also freezing, my clothes soaked through from Leo's body and the wet tile.
I don't say anything as I drape Leo’s heavy arm over my shoulder and hoist his big body into a standing position.
When he stumbles, I brace myself against the shower wall.
I don't want either of us to get hurt tonight.
Leo seems to be hurting enough for the both of us, and I still feel like he is keeping something from me.
It couldn’t have been Peadar’s orders to kill his sister alone that sent him over the edge.
I ponder this as I help him into the bedroom. I avert my eyes as I quickly towel off his naked body, then I pull back the duvet on his bed, revealing the clean white sheets. I help him down, covering his nudity a moment later.
I go back into the bathroom, reaching to turn off the light before I pause. Leo’s jeans are lying on the floor holding the exact means of my escape. I stare at them for a long minute, glancing back at Leo lying in his bed, curled up so tightly I don't know if he will ever come undone.
I look back at the denim. The codes, the instructions, everything Leo directed repeats over and over inside my mind in his perfect voice.
Again, I contemplate leaving like he told me.
He’s calmed down a lot. He’s not hyperventilating anymore, so I wouldn’t be leaving him in a fragile state.
I could escape, then find Nico later. Instead, I turn off the light, shutting the door behind me.
I look at Leo one last time before I turn to leave the bedroom.
“Stay,” the simple, raspy word freezes me.
My heart, though—my heart is very much alive, beating rapidly within the confines of my chest.
I turn to find Leo staring at me, his eyes reflecting the low lamp light of the room.
The life is back in them, and a strange sense of relief washes over me.
He still looks exhausted, his face almost droopy, as if the day itself is weighing on his features.
I open my mouth, then close it, unsure of how to respond.
Instead, he speaks again, “I—I don’t want to be alone.”