Page 56 of Depraved
“Billy,” I call as I open the door. “Billy, I’m…”
“Don’t,” she says almost at the same time.
She’s sitting on her bed, dressed, with her duffle bags packed on the bed.
“What’s this?” I ask, motioning to the bags, but I know.
She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, keeping her eyes on her hands as her fingers weave in and out of each other.
“Our deal is done. I’m leaving. I appreciate everything, Dante, but I have to go now, and I’m asking you to step aside, to not push back.” Her eyes lift to mine, shiny and honest. “Just be decent and let me go without a fight.”
I run my hand over my head and walk to where she’s sitting. “No. I’m not decent. I’m an asshole…” Squatting in front of her, I take her hands in mine. “I brought that girl here to make you mad. To force you to take back what you said, make you admit we mean something. But I sent her packing the minute you walked into your bedroom. I didn’t touch her.”
Sarah stands and slips past me, pulling her hands away and walking a few feet away. She keeps her back to me.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want this. It’s too much.”
“Stay.”
It’s not a demand. This time I ask.
“No,” she answers resolutely, turning around to face me.
“Stay. Please.”
She shakes her head but doesn’t answer.
“Trust me, Billy. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m asking anyway. I want you to say yes, but I’m not going to demand it… Stay and let me give you what you need.”
I take a few steps, closing the distance between us, and bring my hands to her face. The moment my fingertips brush her cheek, an uneven breath leaves her body and she closes her eyes.
She’s gotta hate herself for still needing the person she hates the most right now.
“How do I fix this, Billy?” I urge, my face turned downward to her, feeling like my chest is ripped open as she gives a small shrug, “You need a reason to trust me again? I can give you one… Ask me what I did Sunday night.”
I shouldn’t tell her, but I will if it makes the difference. I’ll tell her everything if it makes her stay.
“It doesn’t matter,” she shoots out quickly, pushing my hand from her face. “I don’t want to know. There’s nothing you could say that wou—”
“I beat a man to death.” Her eyes grow wide as I cut her off. “With my bare hands. I hit him so hard over and over that his bones crunched under my knuckles and all the breath left his body.”
She shakes her head, wrapping her arms over her center. But I reach down and pull them from her one at a time. I don’t want her closed off to me, in any way.
“Now ask me why,” I growl, fighting the strength in her arms as she tries to put them back.
“It’s none of my business,” she whispers, eyes becoming shiny, as she pulls her wrists from my hold.
“For you,” I say, hushed, cradling her face and locking our eyes “Because he told me that someone was coming to get you and that he’d make you hurt. The thought of someone trying to hurt you, someone trying to steal something I possess. Billy. It made me crazy. You’re mine.”
She tries to pull back, her hands gripping my wrist, but I bring my lips down to hers, pressing them gently down, and whisper again, “You’re mine.”
Her fight stills, and she stares at me as I pull back. “If you hurt, I hurt. And if I hurt, people die, so the same applies for you. I don’t know why, I don’t how, but you’ve dug your claws in me, and I don’t want you to let go.” Her hands travel up my forearms and back down, gently skimming my muscle. “I want you and I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been here when you needed me. It’ll never happen again.”
Her eyes search mine, and with everything in me, I silently implore her to forgive me. I need her to. All my cards are on the table.
She doesn’t answer. She may never, but that’s the crack in the door I need.
I pull her back to me. “Let me say sorry, Billy,” I whisper into her lips. “Let me make it right.”
