31. Blesk
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
blesk
I knew I’d crack open in front of him eventually. A few months of the honeymoon period would have been nice, though. But no… How do you hide your soul from its other half? Now, he sees all the horrible feelings inside me.
That was what terrified me most—not the breaking itself, but his face afterwards, and what he would find in the debris.
The gross parts of me. Of Erik and me. Of what sex looks like to me now.
Of what happened between us… I still don’t have the right title for it.
It wasn’t rape. And it was. It shifts. From one day to the next. Sometimes it’s both.
It was more like a controlled demolition. Like I was handed the detonator. Like some part of me chose what was left standing and was content with it because suffocating care was always better than no care.
Konnor has been holding me for hours. The city outside has gone still, only the occasional drag of a car passing below, headlights sliding across the ceiling and gone. His breathing is slow and even against the back of my neck.
“Konnor.” My voice comes out smaller than I mean it to. “I have to tell you something.”
His muscles stiffen as he pulls me closer to him, flush against his chest in a way that is possessive and—everything. “You have to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
Anything? “This is going to be hard.” I drag in a deep breath. “Being together. I knew how hard it would be to…” The sound of a car roars down the street below us, then disappears into the city echo. “Purge.”
“That’s not purging. That’s healing. Whatever is on your mind right now. Let me see you, Blesk. Let me fucking see all the pieces of you so I know how to put you back together.”
I close my eyes, my heart hammering in my chest. Can he feel it through my spine?
“I’ve always struggled with my part in your capture.
” This still feels surreal. “Now that I think about it as an adult. I think he gave me the keys on purpose. Like, even then, he made me hold the responsibility. And the pills. He made me take them to you. I drugged you, Konnor.” Tears sting the backs of my eyes, building and building as silence stretches between us.
He nuzzles the top of my head. “I already knew, Duch.”
My breath catches. “You knew?”
“I knew. You were a child. You had no choice. You did what they told you to do to protect yourself.” His palm flattens on my lower belly, cradling me as a sob moves through me.
“Then why?” My voice breaks. “Why did you keep taking the pills? Why not refuse? Spit them out!”
And there it is. For a moment, I’m talking to Deakon, and he’s talking to me, and I’m both tied in knots and free.
“Because I didn’t want your father to hit you anymore,” he says. “You weren’t safe. I felt safe with you.”
Safe? In a cage? Like a dog? I blink back tears. “But you told Elise you were sick.”
“I lied,” he says, just like that. “I didn’t want anyone to think bad of you, or your part. It felt private.”
“I buried her memory, because I kept having nightmares of all the times I watched you swallow those pills. Of treating you like a dog. I blamed myself. I hated myself.”
He pushes to his elbow, looking down at me, and I roll to my back, looking up, hit by the intensity his voice was hiding.
Not the corny Konnor I know and like a lot.
Something underneath, something willing to burn cities to the ground.
“And I blamed myself for your death. I let your hand slip from mine. I didn’t crawl up beside your dead body and hold you.
That’s what I dreamt about. Joining you in your grave. ”
Oh, God. I blink tears away. “We both carried this guilt. You… drink. And I—” God… “Let my brother keep me locked away, locked in my room and from the world. It’s what I…” Deserved. “What I thought I…”
His jaw clenches.
My eyes drop. “People did blame me for what happened to you. You know that? After we escaped—my father found me. I tried to scream, but he knocked me out. The police arrested him. They found me locked in his wardrobe. I spent the night in the same hospital you were in. A man came into the hospital. He smothered me with a pillow. I was only eight. I was legally dead for two minutes. Then they gave me a new identity and erased my past and told me to keep quiet and low. To be a ghost.”
The memory of that pillow, that man’s weight—the terror floods back. “Someone wanted me dead for what I did to you, Konnor. I was only eight.”
My body trembles violently. We never take our eyes off each other. His hand comes to my cheek. He sighs roughly; I close my eyes, feeling his warmth. He is strength and heat and intensity all at once.
His exhale moves across my hair, slow and uneven, like he just made up his mind about something. “I see you,” he whispers.