Page 122 of Necessary Cruelty

Thirty-Six

I pushed toohard and for way too long. There isn’t any excuse except that I’m the biggest asshole who has ever lived.

Not to say that I haven’t had my reasons for it. But it’s hard to make the past matter when you’re confronted with the reality of your future.

In the beginning, I convinced myself that keeping secrets would be the best thing for both of us. The less she knew, the easier it would be for me to control her. But I didn’t understand what I stood to lose.

And now I’ve lost everything.

Waves crash around me with destructive force. The wind is so howling that it steals my voice and carries it away to the sky. I pray that I’m not too late, even though I don’t deserve to have any prayers answered at this point.

I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anything.

But I’ve never been one to worry too much about what I deserve. I’ve always taken what I want when I want it, regardless of the consequences. There isn’t any reason to change my ways now, not when it means I have the chance to save her.

I’m going to save her.

From herself. From me. From the world, if I have to.

I’ll tie her to the bed and keep her there for the rest of her life, if that is what it takes to keep her alive.

I’m barefoot because I kicked off my shiny loafers to run faster. Bits of coral and stone dig into my skin. Sharp enough to cut, but the physical pain is a distant thing. If I have to run a hundred miles across hot asphalt covered in broken glass to save her, then that is precisely what I’m going to do.

I scream her name again, even though I know she wouldn’t hear it if she was standing only a few feet away. The darkness and the angry sound of crashing waves are enough to hide any number of sins.

Hers and mine.

For the longest time, I wanted to break her. Tear her into bits so I could examine every piece until I figured out exactly what fascinated me so damn much. I succeeded, but she isn’t the only one who has been broken.

In the beginning, this had mostly been about the money. And maybe a little bit about how much I got off on forcing her to be what I want. Everything seemed to make so much more sense back then — even the worst of what I’ve done seemed justifiable.

But now, I’m just disgusted with myself.

King of Deception.

Vice Lord.

The guy who has never heard the word no.

My reputation is as big as the waves crashing onto the beach and as powerful as the undertow threatening to pull us out to sea. I tell myself I’m more than the things people say about me, but I’m not convinced that’s true.

Maybe it has never been true.

I see a dark shadow in the meager light, and I fight through the water toward it, driven by instinct.

Everything about her is dark. Her hair. Her eyes. Her thoughts, at least the ones she shares with me. But that didn’t stop her from becoming the only spot of light in my otherwise colorless world.

And I let all of my worst impulses nearly destroy her.

When I squint, there is the barest outline of a figure moving through the waves. The white dress is what gives her away. She has gone far enough out that the water has to be past her waist.

I’m running without a conscious awareness of what I’ll do when I reach her. Like every other interaction we’ve ever had, I’m operating on an instinct I’ve never fully understood.

As I chase her into the water, I realize I would give anything to rewind the clock to a time before we became what we are.

Before tragedy robbed me of a real childhood.

Before I stole her voice.

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