Page 21 of Misery
"Months," she repeats softly. "And you never said anything."
"Wasn't my place."
"What changed?"
"Los Coyotes forced my hand. Can't protect you from the shadows when they're dragging you into the light."
She reaches over and takes my damaged hand, studying the split knuckles. "These men tonight. You killed them for me."
Not a question. "Yes."
"Would you do it again?"
"Every time."
"Even if I didn't ask you to?"
"You will never have to ask me to kill for you, Elfe."
She traces the wounds gently. "My monster."
"If that's what you want to call it."
"It's what you are. What I need." She looks up. "Stay with me tonight?"
"I'm not leaving."
"No, I mean... stay. In the bed. Not for sex. Just... I don't want to be alone. Haven't felt safe enough to really sleep in months. But with you..."
"Yeah," I agree before she can finish. "Yeah, okay."
We bank the fire, and I double check everything again, because I can't not.
She changes into one of my old t-shirts I dig out of a drawer.
It swallows her, hanging to mid-thigh.
She looks young. Vulnerable. Nothing like the woman who kissed me earlier.
Nothing like the survivor who wants a monster to protect her.
We lie in the dark, not touching but aware of every inch between us.
Her breathing evens out slowly.
Just when I think she's asleep, she speaks.
"Oskar?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For tonight. For the blood on your hands. For not taking advantage when I kissed you. For all of it."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. That's why I am."
She shifts closer. Not quite touching, but I feel her warmth. Smell her shampoo.
