Page 80 of His

“It wasn’t you.”

“Tell that to a five-year old kid,” I said, laughing sadly. “But it wasn’t you, either. You couldn’t have stopped him.”

“I could have killed him,” he said.

I was quiet. There wasn’t any anger in his eyes, only regret.

“Where’s your father now?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “If I knew, I would have killed him already. Sometimes I think that’s the only way to stop the shadow from coming back. But I’ve looked and looked. He got away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve stopped looking for him. Maybe he’s dead already.”

The silence between us was so intimate. I wanted to lean forward and kiss him, hug him, pull him into my arms and tell him that it would be alright. But there was nothing that would be alright, not with him. Not with me.

“Your turn,” I whispered.

“What can I do now?” he asked. He didn’t expect an answer - it sounded more like a cry to heaven than a real question.

How could I answer him? I didn’t know what it was like to be a killer. I didn’t know what it was like to want to murder people, to have that dark of a need. I reached up and took his hand, brought it to my lips. All the while I looked into his eyes.

If I was never going to escape this place, I could do this for him.

“I want you to take it out on me,” I said. “Everything.”

His desperation turned into something else. His eyes boiled with emotion, so strange after seeing him blank for so long. The room was growing brighter with the rising sun.

“I don’t want to kill you,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Don’t kill me. Come close. Hurt me. Here.”

I lifted my wrists to him. What was I asking him?

For exactly what you want.

There was a part of me, long hidden, that had desires. Dark desires. When he’d bound me by my wrists and tortured me with his tongue, they had come out. When his hand spanked my skin red, they had screamed with pleasure. I wanted this. I wanted him. I wanted to be his.

“Tie me up,” I said. “Do whatever you need to do. I want it too.”

He looked up at me.

“You don’t want it. Not really. If you knew what my shadow wanted—”

“You’re not the only one with the shadow,” I whispered.

He paused for a moment, his eyes searching mine.

“I wanted to die for so long,” I said, my voice hoarse with emotion. “I didn’t feel anything but a numb kind of pain. When I’m with you... it goes away.”

“I’ll hurt you.” He said it so softly the words felt invisible.

“I want you to hurt me.”

“Badly. I might leave marks.”

I turned my wrists around, showing off the only scars I had.

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