5. Evan
EVAN
Ethan came out of Rosalie’s room, a grim expression on his face. I knew she was fighting with herself about walking out, and it hurt me to see her struggling. I’d been talking to the guys, and we all knew it was time for me to step out of the darkness or pull Rosalie back into it with me.
“Can we talk?” E asked as he came into the living room. He stared right at me.
“Uh, yeah,” I muttered, nodding for him to follow me to Klaus’s office. I caught Klaus’s eye and knew he was concerned. Anson gave him a slight shake of his head, as if to tell him to let me do this.
I breathed out and walked down the hall to Klaus’s office and took a seat in a chair, E following.
I stared at him from behind my sunglasses, waiting for him to speak.
“There are a million things I have wanted to say to you since I heard you died,” he started, his voice soft. “But I never thought one would be I hate you.”
I said nothing. There wasn’t fuck all I could say. It hurt, but if he hated me, then he hated me.
He breathed out. “I don’t want to hate you. I just… I loved you. Like deep love. You were my best friend. I’d have died for you. In fact, in a lot of ways, I did.”
I continued to stare at him, saying nothing. I wanted him to get out whatever he had to say to me. The last thing I wanted was for him to have words locked away inside, eating at him. Even the ugly, painful things, I wanted them.
“Twenty-seven,” E whispered. “That’s the number of times I fucked Celeste.
I kept count. I cried every single fucking time.
She would lean in and whisper my name. Kiss me.
I’d kiss her back and gag. She would say she couldn’t wait until Rosalie found out that I picked her over my sweetheart.
” He paused. “Fifty-two was the number of times people pushed their cocks into my body. And twelve was the number of dicks I sucked. Of course, it may not have been twelve different dicks since they wore fucking masks, but yeah. The number doesn’t change. ”
My stomach twisted at his words. He went quiet and stared at his feet.
“Forty-eight,” I whispered finally. “That’s how many times I was fucked. That I can remember since some days they drugged me, and I wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. They told me that every time I said no, they’d hurt you more. So I said yes in the hopes it saved you once.”
E nodded and finally dragged his gaze from the floor to me.
“They told me the same. I’m sorry you suffered,” he said. “I tried to save you.”
My throat tightened. “I know. I tried to save you, too.”
He got to his feet and stood in front of me.
I watched as he slowly unzipped his pants and pushed them down his thighs.
He was heavily tatted on his thighs, which was a huge surprise since I hadn’t known E to be into tattooing.
He unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor, revealing more tattoos covering a large portion of his torso.
I stared at him, wondering what he was doing.
He breathed out and pushed his boxers off, displaying himself to me.
I frowned. It took me a moment to understand what he was doing.
“You have… bite marks,” I whispered, staring in horror at his groin and thighs. Hundreds of scars greeted me beneath his tattoos.
Gently, I reached out and traced my fingers lightly along one at the top of his thigh. Perfect teeth imprint.
“They held me down and bit me. Made me bleed. I-I screamed for you. I did. I begged you to save me. I never told Enzo that Celeste was one of them.”
My throat tightened at his words, words I fucking knew to be true. I reached out and cradled his balls in my hand, taking in all the scars.
“H-He tried to castrate me with his teeth,” E said, his voice shaking. “The hospital had to sew me back together.”
My stomach rolled with his words. Even his dick had scars on it.
I released him.
“Ethan,” I said softly. “I—”
He backed away, pulled his boxers and pants up before lifting his shirt off the floor. He put it on and buttoned it.
“The plan was to eat me alive,” E rasped. “I heard them talking about it. They planned on keeping me to torture, but eventually, I was the main menu. I-I have bite marks all over. It’s why I tattooed.”
I swallowed and stood. He stared at me as I unbuttoned my shirt. His green eyes traveled down my body, his face morphing from indifference to horror as he took in all the scars. Even beneath the tattoos, they were visible.
I took off my sunglasses and placed them on the coffee table before letting my shirt slide off completely. I turned so he could see my back.
“Fuck,” he choked out. His warm, soft fingers traced along the ugly, jagged scars carved into my skin.
I turned to face him again, and he didn’t hesitate to trace all the ugly scars on my abs and chest.
“They… They bit you, too,” he whispered, his voice shaking.
“They bit me. Cut me. Burned me,” I said softly, sitting and pushing my shoes and socks off.
He went to his knees and stared at my scarred feet.
“I kept kicking,” I murmured. “They didn’t like it. Then I tried to run. So they burned my feet.”
He ran his fingers along all the thick scars on the top of one of my feet, which I’d tatted. His fingers easily found the scars beneath, and he stared at me with tears in his eyes.
“It hurts still,” I admitted. “If I step just right. Nerve damage. When I kept trying to kick and run, they broke both my feet. They put my feet inside bags of coals and let me scream. Sometimes they fucked me while they did it. They broke my arms, too, because when I didn’t have my feet, I could still swing.
And then…” my voice shook. “When my arms didn’t work anymore, I’d headbutt, so they punished my face. ”
E stared into my eyes, tears in his.
“I-I thought Asylum did this to your eye,” he murmured.
I shook my head. “No. He would poke me with his fork, but he never hurt me like this. Everett did this to me.” I looked at my hands twisted together on my lap.
“H-He made me cut my own face. Said if I didn’t, it would be you instead.
He told me I was too pretty. So I did it.
I did this. W-With my own nails in the beginning, then when it wasn’t good enough, he helped.
He wouldn’t let me stop. With a broken arm, I carved my own face as he gave me instructions before he helped, taking my hand in his and guiding me. ”
I finally looked at E to see that he was crying silently.
“Don’t cry for me, E. You’ve wasted enough tears on me.”
“I’m sorry. This whole time, I thought you were just a dick, man. I thought you just escaped and let us go. I had no idea how bad it was. I thought you were selfish and just wanted Rosalie all to yourself because of the Enzo shit with the wedding. I didn’t know—”
I reached out and cradled his face. “I wanted your freedom, and hers, and I would have died to give it. I still would. For both of you. If my death meant her happiness, if it meant you were free from all your demons, I would give it freely, Ethan. Even now. I would take your bad memories and nightmares straight to hell with me so that you could have relief.”
“You fucking asshole,” he choked out, tears streaming down his cheeks.
I leaned in and rested my forehead against his while still holding his face.
“You can hate me, brother. I accept that, but I love you. I will always love you. And I will always die for you without question. I fucked up and hurt you all. I know I did, but I wasn’t in a good place either.
I was hurting and losing it. I wanted my Rosie to be free.
So I had to make sacrifices that killed different parts of me, but I would do it again.
I would. For her. For you. Without pause, I would do it again.
” I kissed his forehead like I used to. “I will tell Cole and Enzo. If it ends this story of the horsemen, so be it. The truth needs to come out.”
I released him and tried to sit back, but he gripped my hands and stared into my eyes.
“This is… This is hard for me.”
“I know,” I murmured.
“I visited your grave weekly, sometimes daily, for years. Whispering that I loved you. That I was sorry.”
“I heard you, E,” I replied softly. “I heard all of it.”
“How?” he asked, crinkling his brows as he stared at me.
I gave him a sad smile and pulled my hand away so I could point to my head. “It’s gotten weird up here since the underground. Anson does it too, sometimes.”
“You’re like… Asylum.” He stared at me, lips parted.
I nodded. “I guess. Not as bad as he is. I-I went and got some meds for it because I thought I was going crazy. It dulls a lot of it, and I handle the rest by blocking it out. When I was a kid, I could do it too. My dad would hug me and say it was normal because it was who I was. It got better as I got older. It’s like this weird intuition.
I just know without knowing how or why I know.
Sometimes I’ll hear… you. But it’s not your thoughts.
It’s you. Like your emotions or your energy.
It’s so hard to describe. When I asked Asylum about it, he smiled and said he called it The Knowing. So that’s what I’m calling it.”
“Just me?”
I shrugged. “Rosalie and Anson, too. Sometimes Klaus. I-I push it away. It’s not terrible now.
When Rosalie was gone, I could feel her.
Like her energy. It was scared at first, then frustrated and angry, and then…
happy. So it helped keep me sane because her happiness meant she was OK.
I’m really not great at understanding any of it, and it frustrates me to try.
I’m not good at it, and I definitely don’t want to practice it.
” I paused. “Anson can do it too, but it seems to bother him less. My dad said it’s just our family.
It’s why Everett was always so interested in Asylum. He is beyond powerful.”
“Well, he’s lost his mind now,” E muttered. “They say he’s on the outs.”
I smiled knowingly. “I’m sure. He’s always been a Mirage… looking like one thing, but being something else entirely.”