Page 151 of Devil's Deal

“You’re already thinner,” he chides me, growing more displeased. “I don’t have time to bring you meals. Come with me. You’ll be provided for.”

“No.”

I turn away, grabbing my dress. I’ve washed it as well as I could in the river, and it’s still damp. I shrug it on and twist my wet hair up, pushing a stick through it so it’s out of the way.

When I try to walk around him and resume my aimless wander, he grabs my wrist.

“Look at me.”

I laugh bitterly, staring at sunlight playing over lush fern leaves, their color a delight. It’s light green in the sun, vibrant and alive. I could spend an eternity looking at it and thinking of nothing.

But even if the only other thing I could look at instead of Woland was a pile of shit, I would stare at it until my eyes bled.

He grabs my hair and turns my head firmly. I close my eyes when his irate face swings into view.

“Now you’re being childish,” he growls, his grip tightening.

I shrug. This kind of judgment might have hurt me in the past, but now I simply don’t care.

“Fuck. Jaga,” he snaps. I think there’s an edge of despair to his voice.

He kisses me, and I let him, standing numb and unresponsive. My body doesn’t ignite from his touch. There is a big, gaping hole where my libido was, and there is nothing he can do to bring it back.

Woland releases me with a vicious curse, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he’s disgusted. I huff softly under my breath. That makes two of us.

He doesn’t let me go yet. I look past him, watching the sunlight glittering on the river. From the corner of my eye, I catch his expression, angry yet thoughtful. His nostrils flare, but there’s calculation in his eyes.

“Do you want me to apologize?” he asks, his voice so controlled, it sounds inflectionless.

I burst out laughing. It’s brief and violent, leaving me gasping for breath. It’s the kind of laughter that doesn’t feel good, it just tears out of me. When it passes, I shoot him a contemptuous look.

“What do you think?”

Woland deflates with a long exhale, his posture hunching, his grip on my hair loosening, though he doesn’t let go.

“They held you back,” he says slowly, like I’m a child and he’s trying to explain a basic, obvious concept.

I shrug. That is so beside the point, so utterly removed from what my anguish and pain are about. If he thinks an argument like this can convince me of anything, that means he knows nothing about me.

“Jaga! For fuck’s sake.”

He shakes me, but not very hard. If I were in a better frame of mind, I would admire his restraint. It must be very frustrating to talk to me when I’m like this.

When I give him no response, he’s silent, breathing slowly though audibly, and I know it costs him to stay calm. Finally, he bows low over me, his tall body folding until he touches his forehead to mine. When I try to twist my head to the side so I’m not forced to share his breath, he doesn’t let me.

So I grit my teeth and endure it, and as I stand like this with him, more and more cracks appear in my armor. My breathing grows shaky, my body hot and cold in turns, and when I think I’ll either cry or go mad, he folds me into his embrace and holds me close.

And I don’t cry. I force myself to endure it, too, even as my shell of numbness breaks into pieces, my peace shattering once and for all. Pain, grief, and guilt pour in, burrowing into my muscles and bones, flooding my stomach and lungs. I choke on them, shaking, and Woland holds me through it, murmuring meaningless words of comfort.

“It wasn’t your fault. I did it all. Blame me.”

“You did nothing wrong, darling.”

“I’ve got you now. You’ll always be safe.”

These are all lies, and I push them out of my mind, but a strange thing happens. My body seems to accept what he says and it slowly calms until I am no longer shaking, the big hole in my chest seeming to have shrunk just a little.

“Why did you do it?” I ask hoarsely, bracing for more lies.

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