Page 61 of Dead Love
“What is this?” I asked.
“It’s yours,” he said, as if it was as simple as a lost sweater.
Did my mother think that I was dead? But that couldn’t be it—my mother would never give up on me. My thoughts wandered to Vincent. Had he known that I would need a plot? Unless—
No.I refused to let that thought surface.
“Don’t worry,” he said, reading my mind. “Your mother is determined to find you.”
But she still hadn’t found me. Because Vincent was even more determined to keep me here, than Shea was to find me.
“Then what’s this about?” I asked, gesturing at the tombstone. “It’s frightening to see a grave that’s clearly mine.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “It doesn’t say your name.”
My cheeks flushed red and I grit my teeth. “Come on, Vincent,” I said. “I may be inexperienced. But I’m not stupid. How many people call someone their ‘flower’?” A wave of heat surged through me at those words. I couldn’t deny it anymore.Hewas the only one who called me that.Hewas the only one who had ever given me that nickname before.
He had made the grave for me.
I sank down to my knees, running my fingers over the headstone. Even with the rough texture under my fingers, none of it felt real.
“Why?” I whispered.
He sat down on the other side of the hole, putting the distance between us, like he knew I needed that protective barrier.
“Three years ago now, my brother died, leaving me alone. My parents. My brother. Even my uncle was gone. And I hated myself for out-living them. Hated that for some fucked up reason,Ihad survived. The kid who wanted to destroy everything. The man who could only connect with someone after they were dead.”
A cold sweat broke out all over me. “What had happened?”
“Then on Halloween,” he continued, “I saw this family. They were perfect. Happy. Enjoying their life. And they had this innocent daughter. Despite being prominent members of the community, I had never seen the daughter before. They were actually able to protect her from everything. It seemed like nothing could touch them, and I didn’t understand it. Why could they have everything, when I was left with nothing? Why did I have to suffer, while they thrived?”
My heart plummeted, full of dread.
“And I wanted to watch them fall apart.”
Chills ran over my arms, an ache tingling in my chest. His eyes darkened, and for once, I couldn’t see any starlight inside of them. They were completely empty.
“Then I met the daughter. She was beautiful, like a rose cut fresh from the stem.” He jerked his angular jaw to the side, facing forward. “And I knew what she could be, what she was capable of, if someone let her. And some fucked up part of her pulled her to me too, though neither of us could explain it.” He turned to me again, his face cold and haunting. “Like everything in my life, since the moment I was born, had led me to her.”
The hairs on my arms and legs stood on end. The back of my neck burned with heat. I remembered that night so clearly. Standing on the viewpoint, gazing up at his dirt-covered face.
“I thought to myself that ripping her from her cage would save her life. Her mother hadn’t let her experience anything, so why couldn’t I give her release from her numb existence? In the only way that I knew how.”
A twisted, sick sensation swirled inside of me. “But what does that mean?” I trembled.
His hands curled into fists. “I wanted to break you down so that you would never resemble what your parents had wanted so badly to protect. I wanted to use your body to make art that I knew, a good woman like your mother, would never approve of. And when that was all done, I wanted to bury you in this hole.”
Everything inside of me shifted. A ringing blared in my ears, and the world went blurry like I was drifting, floating on the wind, like none of this was real.
He leaned over the hole, catching me from falling.
“Kora?” he asked.
The ringing stopped. I stared at him.
Was he telling the truth?
“That was three years ago,” I said. “And you followed me. Stalked me for years. Waiting until the right moment.”
