Page 87 of A Beautiful Crime

I think of Elio. Of how he had started a war against papa. And because he challenged him, because he executed his own free will, it led him to death. Elio was killed by the orders of papa, his own God he had worshipped.

And I brought death to him.

All because of the fear of free will.

“You see it, don’t you?” Constantine pushes, as he always does. Testing my morality. Questioning my beliefs. “God himself isn’t even good, Carina. He killed an entire race. Committed adultery when he forced himself upon a woman who was married and got her pregnant. He encourages cheating and at points rape. And he will only accept you if you accept him as the one and only true God. Tell me, how many prayers has he left unanswered?” He pauses for effect and I can’t help but think of my mamma. She prayed endlessly and not one was called upon. “How many innocents has he failed? Now you tell me, Carina, is the Devil, Lucifer Morningstar, the angel God himself loved the most before he casted him aside, is he the evil one?”

My lungs feel as if they are submerged underwater. There’s a grasp on my throat denying air.

The truth in his words strike me like a viper.

My hand flexes against my throat and with a tightness in my chest I don’t recognize and pleading in my once vacant eyes I ask him in a strained voice, “Why are you doing this?”

In his eyes I see he takes no satisfaction in my anguish. There’s a tinge of sorrow there. For what, I have not a clue, but it’s there all the same.

“Evil is all about perception, Carina. The Devil you once knew you now sympathize. You see his goodness. And I wonder, if you perceive yourself differently, would you sympathize with yourself? Would you see your goodness?”

I swallow thickly, tears burning the backs of my eyes. “You’re wrong.” All the goodness I had died along with my brother.

“Am I wrong?” He challenges, his voice bolder, harsher. “Or are you continuing to pretend to be blind to the truth?”

My hands form in fists on the table. Ever so perspective his whisky colored eyes draw to the sight. They focus on them. Focus on how my knuckles are turning white from the pressure. Focus on how my nails are digging into my palms, breaking skin and dropping blood.

A reaction he evoked.

A reaction that makes me hate myself more than I did yesterday.

A reaction that makes me loathe him more than any man I know.

Because a reaction, a reaction proves how very much alive I am.

And he’s the only one.

The irony of it all. The man who damned my soul is the very same man trying to convince me I hold the light that he snuffed out.

And I become frustrated. My blood seething with anger. Body vibrating with a dangerous fury. My eyes, so very much alive, glare at him. And he has the audacity to smirk. “What truth am I blind to, Signore? My eyes are wide open.”

“Are they?” He persists and I have to bite down on my tongue to not lash at him. “You’re continuing to hold the wrong people responsible, mia leonessa .”

I spit, “Quit calling me that.”

“You hold me responsible for a crime I haven’t committed. You’re a loaded gun, Carina, ready to pull the trigger. But you need to hold your gun at the people responsible,” he warns me.

“And what makes you think you’re not responsible?”

“Because if you truly had your eyes wide open, Carina, the thought of even aiming the gun at me would never cross your mind.”

“I don’t fear you.”

His lips twitch. “No and you don’t know how much I admire your bravery.” Warmness spreads through my chest as tingles shoot up and down my spine. “But your reluctance, your reluctance to see the truth because you are terrified of what it means is the only thing about you I well and truly despise.”

Where there was warmness now resides ice. There’s a heaviness in my chest. A heaviness I can’t quite explain. A pain so terribly unbearable it feels impossible to breathe. My mouth is filled with a bitter taste. And that damn organ that only beats in his presence has fallen to the pits of my stomach.

It all feels too close to shame.

And as I refuse to meet his eyes I know it to be true.

As if he knows he demands, “Look at me.”

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