Page 2 of Absolution

“I couldn’t have known it wouldn’t start!”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“We’re hostages, Christian! You’re keeping us hostage! You’re dangerous, unpredictable, a known killer, a… a murderer. You’ve hurt me…” I swallow hard. “God only knows what you’ll do to us if we don’t get away from you. I had to try and save my baby.”

“You—What the fuck! I’ve told you I’m not here to hurt you!”

I glance at him. His face is a mask of deadly anger.

I scoff. “Everything you’ve done so far has proven otherwise.” I rub the back of my head. It hurts where he pulled my hair in the fight.

“And I’m not a ‘known’ killer!” he sneers.

“You’re known to me,” I mutter.

He regards me but doesn’t answer. Instead he starts pacing the floor. “She’s my kid too, Kerry.”

His? Who the hell does he think he is?

A shudder wracks my body. I’m so cold and wet. I don’t think there’s a dry thread left on me and the room’s cold, the floor’s even colder. I jerk when he grabs my arm and pulls me back up, pushing me in the direction of the couch.

“Sit!”

I fall onto the cushions. Swaying with defeat and bottomless exhaustion, I pull the throw blanket off the armrest and wrap it tightly around me. A sob escapes me. Then another. And another. “Why did you come here?” My breath hitches as I stutter out the words. Warm tears make their way over my cold cheeks, pooling under my chin. “Why did you have to destroy everything I’ve built up? Again.” I pull the blanket even tighter, still shivering violently.

He paces the floor in front of me and when he stops, I expect anything but what he says.

“I want you, Kerry. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and about her. And then you had to go and fuckin’ disappear on me!”

For a moment I’m stunned by his honesty, then a red haze of fury washes over me. “Well, you can’t have me,” I scream. “You blew that, Chris! I’m never forgiving what you’ve done to me! How can you even think that I— that we… You’re so pathetic!” I stare up at him in defiance.

His jaw clenches and he’s a frightening vision with the growing rage flaring as an aura around him. It electrifies the air between us and wraps me in the storm that suddenly boils inside my living room and not only outside. He takes a step closer, his moves measured, unnaturally calm, controlled, showing no emotion. I cringe, closing my eyes to block out the sight of him as he grips my chin and squeezes it, tilting my head.

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” he rasps, his breath hot on my face.

When he removes his hand, it leaves a cold patch on my skin. He sighs heavily and I open my eyes again to peer at him. His eyes are closed. He’s still bent over me and with his nostrils flaring, it looks as if he’s inhaling my scent.

“I’m trying, Kerry, I’m trying so fucking hard.” His eyes are pitch black when he opens them, soulless, and my gut clenches.

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s not there. You have to try. There’s no compassion, no humanity—”

I scream when he slams his palm to the wall behind me, an inch from my head, and my heart darts up to my throat. “You don’t get to talk about compassion!” he growls. “You risked her life! If I hadn’t woken up— What the fuck did you think you were doing? You’re just as much of a monster as I am, reckless and stupid. I should fucking take her. She’d be better off.”

New tears well up in my eyes and I swallow hard against the panic that threatens to cloud my mind, forcing myself to meet his dark gaze. His words hit home. I don’t want to admit it, but they hurt, because they carry some truth. Did I still really think he was going to hurt us when I left, or am I just so stuck in old tracks that I’d rather risk Cecilia’s well-being than actually stop and think?

Guilt consumes me, tearing through my chest as if I have eaten barbed wire. “Please,” I whisper, “please, don’t take her from me. I’ll do anything. I can change.”

His eyes are cold as he glares down at me. “Anything? Is that so?”

I realize my mistake too late. That’s not something you offer a man like him. “I…”

I don’t know what to say, and from the glint in his eyes it’s obvious he sees my inner conflict, the turmoil that makes my head spin. His hands come up to my cheeks, cupping them, rubbing away the tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“You’re dancing on razor blades, Kerry. Push and pull. All the fucking time. I know you think you know me, but it’s nothing but your own made-up stuff. You don’t know shit about who I am and the things I’ve done.”

But I do. I know him so terrifyingly well. With his hands on me again, his skin on mine once more, I remember it all. The pain, the violence, and the hurt. He’s just… incapacitated. This is all he knows. The cruelty, the force, the power games.

I’m not excusing him, but I get it.

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