Page 77 of Ink Deep Devotion

Her silken hair brushes against my chin.“You’re doing it yourself,” she whispers. Her pain and sorrow-filled breath presses against my mouth instead of her full lips. A cold wind slips between us as she turns and leaves.

You’re doing it yourself.

She thinks I’m killing her by denying her.

I don’t miss the quick intake of breath as she walks to the art building and tries to suppress her cries.

Look what you have done!

I should just leave this school!

She pauses at the art building door, wipes away her tears, and then roll her shoulders back. She’s so fucking good at faking it to others.

Why can’t she fake it for me?

I’m a nuisance, a shadow that blocks the sun from warming her face. Like a good shadow, I continue to follow her. Clinging to her heels as she walks up the stairs to her class. Always lingering. That’s my duty now.

The smell of paint sticking on the walls brings back memories of Mom’s home studio. I’m happy mom can’t see me now. She’d kill me herself.

Music is blaring from the room at the end of the hall, where Mila’s silly little art parties take place.As much as I hate her being out late attending these, I secretly love watching her excel in art, in something I gave her.

If only she knew that while she was tucked away in this class, I not only watched her on the cameras I had installed in the room, but I made art, too. I bring Mila to life, piece by piece, through my sketches. It’s the only soothing balm that keeps me from losing my mind. I get a little piece of her buried in the pages of my sketchbook to take with me wherever I go.

You’re doing it yourself.

I stalk behind her, but with each step she takes closer to the art studio, the distance between us slowly dwindles until I’m on her heels.

You’re doing it yourself.

“I can’t win!” I snarl out as I hit my chest.

Fuck! Stop talking, you idiot!

She suddenly turns, her brown hair floating around her face. When she smiles widely, you can see her dimples. I haven't seen her dimples since we were in high school, before the world forced us to change into the monsters we are today.

Stop!I shout at my feet, but my heart has taken over control of my body. My feet close any space between us, and my face dips lower so I can look her directly in the eye.

“If I love you openly, my enemies will hunt you down.”

She drops her bag and reaches for my face again.“Dash,” she replies like I’m a hero coming to save her.

“I’m the villain. All I’m good at is killing, Mila. Why can’t you leave me be?”

She looks so determined when she snaps,“You’re not the villain in our story.”

“I’m not the hero,” I state with confidence.

“No. I didn’t say you were.”

My heart beats slower.I wish I could be your hero, Mila.

She tilts her chin up higher so she can really look at me.“You’re the antihero. You’re good and bad; you have no morals, yet the rules you live by beg to differ. You hate love, but you love that hate. Therefore, one can argue that you do know the definition of love, no matter how hard you try to distort and redefine it. You do everything to push me away, but deep down, you’d do anything to keep me close, too. You think a hero has to be morally sound, but the cold, hard truth is in order to be the hero, you can’t abide by all your morals, Dash, because in the end, the hero has to defeat the villain. Sometimes heroes kill, and the most selfless heroes are willing to admit that, and that’s why we call them anti-heroes, because sometimes killing the villain is the only answer to peace.”

There’s her poison. I knew she always had it. Like I said, she's a different kind of predator, one with poison instead of claws and teeth. Those words will sicken me because I can see her point. Maybe I am the anti-hero.

“If I love you in the shadows, your heart will slowly wither. Tell me what to do, Mila!” I brace the palm of her hand over my jaw.

Please don’t leave me! Don’t give up.

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