Page 32 of The Masks and the Dancer (Their Obsession 2)

CHAPTER7

CHRISTY

Afew days later, I’m tossing and turning in bed, haunted by dreams of my mother, of Grim and Beast, and of sweet baby Iris. They’re faces linger in my consciousness as my eyes snap open, and I smother a sob that tries to escape my throat by stuffing my fingers into my mouth.

I miss them so much.

Blinking away the tears that have formed, I bite down on my fingers. Hard.

No more tears. No more self-pity. No fucking more.

Four days ago I tried to kill myself.

For four days I’ve barely eaten, hardly slept. I’ve gone through the motions, acting weak whilst I build up my defences slowly, minute by minute, hour by hour.

Leon has hovered around me, barely leaving my side, tracking my every move. Even Thirteen hasn’t been able to persuade him to give me space. He’s wound-up tight, every atom of his being on high alert as he waits for me to attempt to take my life again.

I won’t.

Not today, not tomorrow, nor the day after that. I’m going to be strong. Stronger than ever before. That’s the one thing I can do for my mother. Theonlything.

Because I sure as hell can’t do what she’s asked of me.

I can’t. I won’t.

Adjusting my position, I turn onto my back. The room is pitched in darkness, a slither of moonlight cutting through the gap in the curtains allowing me to make out the outline of a man sitting beside the unlit fire, his head in his hands.

Leon.

Wrapped up in shadows, Leon grasps his hair with his fingers, and I see glimpses of the muscles in his back tensing and flexing as he rocks back and forth, back and forth. The black reed tattoos come to life across his skin as he drowns in his sorrow.

I should look away, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off him.

I’m transfixed by his grief as he tips his head back and lets out a silent scream. The veins in his neck pop, and tears fall from his eyes like pieces of jewelled moonlight.

My God, he’s a shattered man. Utterly devastated. Broken.

If I didn’t know him, if I’d never experienced what I have with him, then I would’ve felt drawn to help him, to soothe the pain he feels. To comfort him. Hold him.

Yet I do know him. Hekilledme.

I can’t get past that. He deserves every last ounce of sorrow.

Every. Last. Ounce.

Flicking my gaze away I look across the other side of the room at Thirteen, who’s sleeping with her back to us, her thin frame covered by a dark woollen blanket. She has remained by my side since I woke up, refusing to leave me alone with Leon. I’m grateful, but there’s still a large part of me that doesn’t know how to feel about her. I have so many questions that I haven’t been able to ask since I tried to end my life.

My stomach churns at the thought. I hate that I felt that way... sonumb.

So lost. So completely crushed.

“I wanted you dead,” Leon says quietly, drawing my attention back to him. I stiffen, half expecting him to attack me. Instead he continues to speak, staring off into the distance, his voice pitted with sorrow. “I wanted you dead because you made something live inside of me. You made my heart beat again,” he continues, fisting his hand and bashing it against his chest.

“You have a heart?” I question, shaking my head at the thought. “How can you possibly have a heart? You’re a monster.”

He swipes at his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes before focussing back on me. “I want you to know that I hate myself for what I did to you. I will hate myself until the day I die. There are no excuses. I know what I did, what I am. I’msorry.”

I feel the truth of his apology despite hating him and all the ways he hurt me. “They’re just words,” I say.

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