Page 56 of My Lovely Tragedy
But I lost that right when I stole his autonomy.
As delicious as it tastes, I took something that was not mine to take—and now, I must reap the consequences.
But as long as I still have him, I’ll take the brunt of it all. Even if it means he will hate me untilhislast breath.
“I told you, darli—” Brooklyn cinches the chains, cutting off the term of endearment, a show of force to not say it. I frown, eyebrows wrinkling, but I concede with a small nod. His eyes narrow, but he lets me speak again.
The rush of air is euphoric. His chains around my neck even more so.
“I told you,” I try again, “I need you here with me.” He shifts on my lap; seemingly unaware his buttocks are flush with my groin. My lashes flutter at our unassuming connection. Reveling in it while I can.
His own brows wrinkle in thick little waves. The blood crusted on his nose flakes off when he rubs it against his shoulder before facing me again. “What does that even mean?”
I inhale. Hold it. Drop my gaze.
He notices and latches on.
“No, no. Give me your eyes back,” he bites out.
I shake my head. He tightens the chains.More euphoria.I didn’t plan for this. I did not plan for much aside from simplykeeping him with me.But having my beloved in my lap with his chains bound around me is certainly not the worst thing in the world.
Anything he wants, he gets.
I return his stare with a precarious resolve. “It means exactly how it sounds, Brooklyn.”
“Then fuckingexplain!” he screams in my face, spittle flying and dotting my skin. Each droplet stings with his visceral pain. I welcome it with open arms, knowing it’s the least I deserve.
His eyes glass over, a sheen of tears forming. He tries to blink them away—a futile action—as they slip down his cheeks instead, onto my lips, down my chin. I selfishly lap at them, absorbing his salty agony like a fiend salivating for its vice.
One, two, three, three, two, one.
“I am sorry I betrayed your trust, Brooklyn. It is the last thing I ever wanted to do—especially since it was so hard to earn.”
He rears back as if I slapped him. My apology was the last thing he ever expected, but that does not make it any less honest.
“Don’t fuckingapologize,” he sneers the word. “You’re not fucking sorry.”
I nod, although I disagree. “I am. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“But you did. You… you chased me and hurt me. Youchained me up!” More spittle. It tastes even more sour. More desperate.
“I did.”
He flashes through his feelings as fast as lightning strikes.Wrath and disappointment. Vexation and humiliation.
Worry and… a flash of understanding.
I lift my chin even higher, until the back of my head bumps the chair and my hair scrapes across the soft fabric. The steel digs into my skin, and Brooklyn’s flesh and slightly damp pants feel warmer than ever.
“Kill me, then. If you’d like.” I look down at him, eyes straining and vision blurry. He pauses, lips parted in surprise and contemplation.
“You’re not serious,” he finally says, voice lilting up toward the end.
“Of course, I am.” I finally lift my hands to wrap my fingers around each chain entwined around my neck. Gripping tightly, I pull them taut, feeling my trachea scream in protest. “It is your decision, darling.” My voice is a barely there croak.
My chest rises and falls steadily. Heart beating at exactly the right rate.
Calm and sure.
