Page 154 of Defend Me

“Your turn to ask me something,” I said.

“Are you sure you want me? Even after seeing how fucked up I am?”

I was thrown off for a second. It hadn’t taken him more than a couple of seconds to ask, as if he was already pondering the question.

“You’re not fucked up. You’re a little damaged, but yeah, I’m sure. I want all of your broken pieces. They fit perfectly against my jagged edges.”

“But you’re not broken.”

“That’s what you’ve never understood. We’re all broken in some way. You don’t see it, but you’re a good person and considering the things that go on in your mind, that’s something you should be proud of. Some people couldn’t stay afloat, but you’re doing it.”

“’So much the worse for me that I am strong,’” he said softly.

“That’s the second time you’ve quoted that. Into classical literature, huh?”

“There’s something poignant about it. The way they portray the human experience is deep. I can feel it, more than I feel most things in my life.”

“I always sort of pitied Heathcliff. Is that weird?”

“No. He’s an immensely complex character and most people only see him as an asshole or even a villain, but I think they’re missing the importance of his story. Heathcliff spent his entire life inferior to those around him. I think the reason he and Cathy had this infatuation with each other is because it was akin to their love for themselves as innately selfish characters. They were obviously toxic as fuck, but what I got out of the story was the way a person’s entire life can be shaped by their experiences.

“Was he a bad person? Ultimately, yeah. He was beyond fucked up. But he developed a need to become better than the others because he was abused and felt small his whole life. It became a sort of revenge, but it still never made him happy. Everything he became was a product of his upbringing, his abuse, and his destructive relationship with not only Cathy, but himself. The next generation seemingly gets their healthy, happy ending, which both Heathcliff and Cathy were denied.”

“So,” I mused. “How someone responds to their experiences shapes their life.”

“Sure, I guess. But how much control do we have over what we become? Maybe some experiences create an unavoidable, and worse, irreparable outcome.”

“We also only see him through the eyes of other characters. We’ll never get to know his true motivations for anything he did or if he felt guilt over them. No matter how far gone he was, maybe in some timeline, he would’ve changed or something.”

Brooks shrugged. “It’s just fiction, but yeah. I like the nuance of it and it’s said to be one of the most ambiguous pieces of literature. Ultimately, it’s up to us to decide how to interpret it.”

“Maybe that’s the whole point.”

“Maybe it is.”

“Maybe the old lady was twisting the whole story and was actually the villain all along.” Pressing a kiss to his jaw, I raised up on one elbow. “I bet the showers are all empty right now.”

He grinned, clearing the gloom from our conversation. “Shared showers sound fucking disgusting, but I’ve drank out of a trash cup, so I guess we can do this.”

Again with the movie experience. He’d brought it up at least five times since it happened. I thought it was hilarious but there was no way in hell I’d get anywhere near that cup.

Chapter 42

“Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.”

Brooks

This is where I claim my freedom

I took a deep breath and pulled down the hem of my hoodie. In any other instance, I would’ve worn something nicer. My hair would be up and I’d fashion the perfect image of myself. Not now. This was what we called making moves.

After I finished here, I had a call to make. That was even worse, which was why I needed to fuck shit up first.

Swallowing hard, I knocked. I heard the click of heels before the door swung inward.

“Brooks,” Holly greeted.

She was dressed similarly to last time, making her intentions clear. I’d called ahead so that I wouldn’t waste my time if she wasn’t here. It was also the professional thing to do. Allegedly.

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