Page 141 of The Devil Can Be Kind

My eyes fell to my hands, quietly trembling in my lap.

Telling Marco had been just as disturbing and excruciating as I had anticipated. The emotions from that night swirling back with unwelcome clarity, as well as renewed waves of vulnerability and weakness.

I had never spoken about that night—to anyone.

Not when my mother pressed me for details in the hospital. Not when the Doctors wanted answers.No one.

And while I had anticipated, at least to some degree, the discomfort that recounting the story would cause, I hadn’t anticipated the sense of release that it would also bring.Somehow, getting it out into the air made me feelstronger.Not so alone.

I looked across to Marco. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from me now. Motionless and taut.

The silence continued to hang in the air, heavy and suffocating, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I reached out my hand tentatively, caressing his shoulder.

“Say something,” I said gently, desperate to hear the comforting tenor of his voice.

He launched himself off the bed, pulling away from my touch with startling force. Marco stormed across the bedroom and began pacing furiously. The muscle in his jaw twitched violently against the skin, as he ground his teeth. His hands latched onto his hips as his blazer strained against the tightness in his shoulders. His head jerked side to side incoherently as he muttered vehemently under his breath.

He was incensed by anger. Almostderanged.

I shrank back into the headboard, fearful of what this version of Marco was capable of.

“Say something.Please,” I begged. When he continued to pace as if I hadn’t spoken, my voice became strangled. “Marco, you’re scaring me!”

“What would you have me say!” he shouted, spinning toward me. “That everything’s alright? Thatfucking bastardstrangled you.Rapedyou. NOTHING IS ALRIGHT!” he roared, causing me to shrink away from him.

“Don’t you think I know that?” My voice trembled as I fought through the tears.

A hand tore down his face. “I’ve got to go,” he muttered, stalking toward the bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” I demanded, jumping off the bed.

“Mexico,” he answered simply, not bothering to even look over his shoulder.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I’ve just told you what happened to me, and you’releaving?” I shrieked, outraged by his callousness.

He wheeled back around. “You expect me to allow that fucker to live?”

“No! I don’t.” I stumbled to him. “I just—please.Pleasedon’t leave m-me.” My voice was broken and desperate by the end.

I couldn’t face being alone right now. Not with everything that had happened during the course of the day.

Ineededhim to stay.

A fresh wave of tears spilled down my face. “Please stay with me.”

His eyes softened as he observed my vulnerability and pain.

He puffed out a long, faltering breath. A solid minute ticked by, but finally he walked back over to me. The second he was close enough, my arms wrapped around his neck, and I buried my face into his chest. Breathing in his comforting and familiar spicy scent.

His strong arms encircled my waist, and his cheek rested against my hair, the stable pounding of his heart calming and grounding me as the minutes drifted away.

“I’m so mad.” Marco spoke softly, sounding exhausted. “I’m so pissed I don’t even know what I’m maddest about.”

I just nodded against him, not sure what to say.

“You should have told me before,” he sighed.

“It’s just… I didn’t want you thinking less of me for it.” My ears burnt with the confession.

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