Page 20 of Monster
Essa
Six months ago
“Why are you doing this?”My cracked voice shatters the silence encompassing us. Dominik jumps at the sound of my voice. He clears his throat and rubs at his arm—something I notice he does a lot—before answering me.
He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “What do you mean?” he finally asks. His lips are pursed, and his eyes are focused solely on me as he waits for my answer.
“I mean, why are you doing all of this?” I gesture around the entirety of the room before continuing. “Staying here with me, offering to pay for my bills, all of it. We’re strangers, Dominik. Strangers don’t do things like this for other people.”
He swallows and my gaze locks on his throat as I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Do we feel like strangers?” he asks, and I snap my gaze back to his face, realizing I was blatantly staring at his throat.
“I don’t know how to answer.”
“Just be honest. Does itfeellike we’re strangers?” he asks again, his tone almost pleading.
I sigh. “No.” My answer confuses me—not because it isn’t true, but because it is. Wedon’tfeel like strangers even though we are and this… Whatever it is I feel toward him scares me.
“Then there is your answer.” He nods, his curls bouncing, brushing across his forehead.
“Wait, what?” I ask, confused. Dominik reaches his hand out to me and for some reason I can’t fathom, I bring mine to him and he laces our fingers together. The feeling is comfortable, soothing. So unlike Vincent’s touch which always burned so damn hot. He stares at our joined hands as he runs his thumb back and forth across the back of mine, another thing I’ve noticed he does every time he holds my hand.
“I’m doing this because it feels right, Essa. I have no other explanation for it. And as selfish as it makes me, I want you to be okay. I want to do everything I can to help make that possible because I want you to live. I want you in my life.” He squeezes my hand as he says the words he doesn’t realize change everything.
Damnit.
I try to pull my hand from his, but he squeezes tighter. It doesn’t faze me in the slightest. I pull harder, yanking my hand out of his grip. My sudden force surprises him and his eyes widen considerably, a look of shock coming over his face before he masks it. With him turned toward me, he brings his hand to my face and puts his index finger under my chin to lift my head to meet his gaze.
I fight it at first, but he doesn’t let up and I find myselfwantingto look at him. So I do just that. Once my head is lifted enough and our eyes lock, I take him in. Green on green stare back at each other, his eyes much darker in color than my pale, light ones. His face is angular, almost sharp looking and his skin has a light tan to it. His lips are plump, and his nose is straight, the tip of it curling up very slightly. He has scruff covering most of his face, almost like he hasn’t shaved for at least a few days.
And when he smiles, his cheek creases. Almost like a dimple, but not quite. I bring my eyes back up to his and his smile only deepens.
“Like what you see?” he quips. My face heats with embarrassment and I try to turn my face away, but he curls his long fingers around my chin, and I feel the rings on his fingers digging into my skin.
“Don’t turn away,” he pleads with me. I can see the desperation in his eyes. A desperation I’m not sure what to do with but right now, I let myself not care. I close my eyes and lean further into his touch. That seems to make him happy because I hear a light hum leave his mouth and he shifts closer until our chests are touching and he wraps his other arm around me, pulling me closer to him.
“What are you thinking?” he mumbles, his lips brushing across my wet hair.
“I… I honestly don't know,” I answer, my face pressed against his hard chest. He smells so fucking good. Minty and clean.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks me with what seems like hope in his voice.
“I don’t know,” I answer him again.
“Okay. You know I’m here for you if you ever want to, baby girl.” He kisses the top of my head, near my wound from the accident which is near healed now. He pulls away but leaves his hand on my face as he does. He tilts my chin back up so he can look me in the eyes and when he does, I smile.
I don’t know why, or even how I can manage a fucking smile, but it doesn’t matter because I’m fucking doing it anyway.
“There’s also something else we should talk about…” he trails off—again—and just like that, my smile is gone.
“What is it now?” I huff out a breath while rolling my eyes. All of this conversation is fucking exhausting.
“Holley… She, uh. Her body…” He stutters, and his words cause me to freeze in his arms. Not surprising the moment I feel even a glimmer of happiness, it gets ripped from me. Story of my fucking life.
I don’t deserve happiness anyway.
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Is there even a right or wrong thing to say to something like that?Like oh jeez, thanks for reminding me of my sister's dead body down in the morgue.
I take a step away from him and he lets me, his hand falling from my face. I turn away from him and the window, moving to the chair he always sits in and take a seat. I lean back and rest my head against the back of the chair, staring up at the white tiled ceiling. The cheap tiles are covered in small dots. The longer I stare, the more they blur together, creating swirls as my eyes cross.
