Page 60 of The Kiss Of Death
My lips curved into a faint smirk as the spider settled on the hair by her shoulder. “I told you not to confuse my interest with you with liking.”
“Fine, if kindness doesn’t exist, then how about love?”
“Love?” I snorted. “It’s a willing submission. A lie.”
“Prove to me how empty you are, and maybe I will.”
“Are we really doing this here? You’re surrounded by cobwebs, with a spider perched on your shoulder.”
She didn’t flinch, seemingly unfazed by the arachnid unless she didn’t believe me. “Think of this as a confessional.”
I plucked the spider from her hair, holding that repulsive thing on my index finger, its vicious legs clinging to me.Unwanted monstrosities attract each other.“Do you remember the butterflies I trapped in my jar?”
I didn’t know why that story was coming back to my mind.
She gulped, her big eyes firmly locked on mine. “Yes, you killed one on the first day I met you.”
“There’s a much darker fate than death.”
That incident was unfortunate. I wanted to chill young Dalia to the bones, so I killed the only pure beautiful hope trapped in this jar. Hurting myself was a small price to pay to ensure she’d leave me the fuck alone. It didn’t work.
So no, I didn’t kill butterflies. I did worse than that.
I reached up and returned the spider to one of the webs on the ceiling as she fled. “I deprived them of their freedom, trapping them in a jar that I had carefully ventilated so I could observe them flutter by my side until their death.”
“You were alone. I’m sure you have regrets now.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I curled a strand of her hair around my finger. “I deprived them of their only few days of freedom because it pleased me. And I did it again and again.”
For once, I could possess something beautiful and innocent.
“That’s because you were never loved,” she dropped, then bit her lips.
Exactly what my old therapist used to say. I lacked love, so at the slightest proof of love, I would capture it and never release it again. I didn’t think I was worthy of being loved, so I forced things,blah, blah, blah.
“I’m sorry, it’s not what I meant, I—”
“You’re right,” I said, all my muscles going rigid for some unknown reason. “Now, let’s do this my way.”
I grabbed her clammy hand. With a firm hold, I urged her to the spiral stairs, her steps quickening to match my heavy strides.
“What are you—”
I flung the door open, revealing the Pioneers’ group bathed in the glow of their cigarette tips, polluting my rooftop with their cancerous substance.
“What can I do for you?” one of them had the decency to ask.
“Finally, someone who asks the right question.” My voice grated, drawing the collective gaze of the group.“You could get the fuck out.”
“You could be polite.” Dalia nudged my shoulder.
I nudged her back. “And you could be quiet.”
“We can share the roof, and we’ll even let you in on the good stuff,” one of them said, strutting around like he owned theplace. He probably inherited his sense of entitlement from his crooked lawyer of a father.
“No,” Dalia and I deadpanned at the same time.
I took one step in. “You know who I am, so don’t make me act like an asshole because I don’t give a fuck about you, your secrets, and what shit you’re smoking. Also, patience is not one of my many qualities.”
