Page 77 of Paper Thin Love

Her head falls to the crook of my neck as if I were her savior,“I wish you would just take me,” she mutters.“I want to feel you deep inside of me. I want to feel.”

Her words are my undoing. I come, marking her for a few moments before the water starts to wash my mistake away.

I wish I could give you what you’re begging for, Mila. But then, how do I help you escape? How can you ask the devil to taste heaven again only to give it up?

“We can fix each other, Dash,” Mila mutters as she rests her cheek against my heaving chest.

Fix?

Oh, Mila. I promised myself I’d fix you. I never vowed to keep you whole. As for me, there is no need to reassemble all my broken bits. Broken things have a better chance of remaining camouflaged in our world. They can lay scattered in the bush, waiting to attack. In the end, it’s all about survival.

Chapter 30

Mila

My life has become this upside down paradise. Not shaded by tropical trees or bathed in warm light. Instead, I’m wrapped in roots that are buried deep, hidden from the world. That’s what Dash’s affection feels like.

For weeks, a new routine takes shape. We go to school, I dance, Dash trains, we eat with Dante and Cillian; I listen to them talk about the weakness of others; I dance again, Dash trains again. At the end of the day, Dash and I retreat to his dorm, where we can truly be ourselves. No fake personalities.

In his shower, we cleanse each other and rid ourselves of the filth of our lies.I wash him, kiss him, touch him until the man named King is gone and my broken prince remains. It’s the happiest I have ever felt.

Dash kisses me, cleanses my mind and touches my body till I’m nothing but begging bones and needy flesh.

That shower has magical properties. I wish we never had to leave it. As soon as the water turns off, Dash’s body stiffens and part of my broken prince sneaks into hiding.

We share a bed, but it’s nothing more than me clinging to him. He’s never kissed me on his bed. Only in the shower where the memory of it can be washed away.

Once in bed, he turns his back to me. I’m the one left clinging to him, like the big spoon. We share burdens. Outside the walls of his room, he’s my shield, but inside this room I’m his.

I meant what I said. We will fix each other. I know Dash is stuck in this world. He can’t escape like I will one day. I just need to know that he knows what love is. What sleeping soundly feels like; when he closes his eyes as I hug him in his bed, I hope and pray he dreams. When he stumbles because of that cast, I catch him because I want him to know he doesn’t have to fall alone.

I want my devil to feel loved because I hope it might change him. I know he’s never going to be the hero, but maybe he can be something in between, something in the gray zone. The monster and the slayer.

I know we can’t ever be together. He’s a King and I’m just a ballerina performing for others. Some nights I lay awake fantasizing that he would run away with me.

It’s stupid.

Tragically romantic.

I blame it on my upbringing. All ballerinas know is tragic love. Those make for the best shows.

They always intended for me to be the spectacle. The show. Dash was born to be the observer, the king, the predator.

You can’t beg a spider to stop spinning its web. Sticky lies and silken promises, designed to ensnare, are in its nature. You have to learn to look at their web of lies as beauty and bravery because the pain of spreading them, of trapping others, is the only way the spider can survive.

Dash can never stop creating webs.

I thought he was trying to trap me in one.

I was wrong.

Making a deal with Dash gave me a rare opportunity to be a bystander. I got to watch how the spider made his art. It was breathtaking, gut wrenching, sickening, humbling, influencing. One day I will have to be a spider, spinning webs of lies, putting on a show, so I can remain free.

***

“How does it feel?” Why do I sound sad? We all should be happy. The end is inching closer to us. Dash is free of his cast; it was removed today. He has a mobile brace and must continue physical therapy, but after that, his name will be inked onto a list and called forth for The Cleansing.

My gulp is so loud that Dash’s eyes glare into mine. His dorm room feels smaller, like a cage, and he’s the lion ready to flex his claws.

---