Housewife
: Chapter 15

An unsettling feeling pervades my being, creeping through my very core and seeping from my bones like a dark ichor.

Glancing down with irritation at the exposed derriere cowering on the unyielding concrete, my question is cold and hard. ‘The fuck are you crying for?’ His frail form shudders, sniffles attempting to restrain the snot dribbling from his nostrils. ‘I d-didn’t do it,’ he babbles, hugging his folded legs close. ‘Please, I- didn’t Mr. Dé Leon.’

A pitiful attempt to avoid the inevitable truth. As if I’d waste my time on torture just for kicks…

No, my pleasure derives from something much bloodier.

Lowering myself to his level, loosening my silk tie before cracking the joints in my neck with a satisfied groan.

Ah, the sound of bones breaking – it’s music to my ears. And soon, I will hear it again.

My suspicious eyes lock onto Angelo’s, a guarded glint in my steady stare.

His fear-ridden irises meet mine with a hint of pleading, begging for trust.

My inner demons urge me to lash out, to retaliate against any potential betrayal. But I reign them in with deep breaths, forcing myself to remain calm.

‘What is it that you didn’t do, Angelo?’ I ask, my voice low and dangerous.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gathers his thoughts.

His haunted gaze flickers to the floor, as if seeking the right words to explain himself.

‘I swear on my loyalty, Saint. I didn’t double-cross you. I would never—“

With a swift and brutal yet satisfying move, I sent his head crashing onto the hard ground. Grabbing hold of his shimmery copper locks, I watched as the crimson trickle of blood painted his face in a grotesque mural of defeat.

His gaping mouth revealed the shock that had been etched onto his features.

I pulled him closer to me, letting out an exasperated groan.

The damned bastard had done the unthinkable – he had double-crossed me. A shipment of highly illegal weapons worth a cool $900 million dollars, procured through the dark web from Japan, was at stake. With the global weapon trade at my fingertips, I was poised to invest, and triple the amount I had spent purchasing these weapons. My clients and crew were all set for the next phase of deals – illegal weapons trading, selling to corrupt governments, officials, and all those who sought power at any cost.

One of the many ways I ensure a roof over my head is by running the arms dealing organization that was once under my late father’s guidance.

Originally meant for my brother Abel, I had to take on the mantle due to personal reasons, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. My partner handles the more clean-cut side of our business, such as money laundering, gambling machines, and running restaurants. As for me, I’m the one who does the dirtier work, and I must admit, I enjoy it.

However, my enjoyment is being threatened by a certain lowlife who was tasked with transporting our weapons across the border. Much to my surprise, the trucks were waylaid by the DGSE, with one of their agents successfully bribing my people to sell us out in return for triple pay, as well as exoneration from their previous crimes.

The sins committed in my name are far from minor, and cannot simply be brushed aside and forgotten. Angelo, in his imbecility, made the grave mistake of accepting a delusional offer.

And so, we replace ourselves here. I, the furious boss. And Angelo, the idiotic bastard paying dearly for his betrayal. Together, we are the renowned French Mob – individually known as les beaux voyous.

One must understand that those who dare to double cross me will be dealt with accordingly. For the likes of Angelo, there is no reprieve from the consequences of their sins. Make no mistake, any attempts to cross me will result in devastating retribution.

‘When it comes to liars,’ I pause dramatically, relishing in the tension building up. ‘They make me angry, an anger where it can’t be contained.’

With a slow, calculated movement, I withdrew my concealed weapon from the back of my pants and flicked off the safety. The metal glinted wickedly in the dimly lit room as I aimed the gun at the traitor’s dick.

‘What you see before you,’ I said with a steely voice, ‘is the consequence of deceit.’ I pulled the trigger without a hint of hesitation, the sharp crack of the gunshot reverberating around us as the victim howled in agony.

The smell of blood and gunpowder filled the air, but I paid it no mind.

Instead, I wiped the sweat off my brow and closed in on the pitiful liar, shoving the barrel of the gun into his mouth. The tears and sweat streaming down his face only stoked my fury.

‘But let’s not dwell on that,’ I said airily as if I hadn’t just caused a man unspeakable pain. ‘I’m a kind soul, after all. A chance for redemption is always on the table.’ As I straightened up, a ghostly grin played across my face, sending shivers down the spines of those present.

Prince and Abel watched from a safe distance, knowing better than to cross me in this state. They could smell the metallic tang in the air, the hint of danger that I exuded so effortlessly. It was clear – when it came to liars, I was not one to trifle with.

‘Ask Neal for the chainsaw,’ I commanded to whoever was within earshot.

Abel turned to Prince and received a nod of confirmation before striding confidently towards the door. Once there, he announced himself and awaited Neal’s arrival. Moments later, the metal door creaked open to reveal Neal’s familiar face. After a quick exchange with Prince, Neal handed over the coveted chainsaw before quietly retreating behind the door.

‘Bring him to his feet,’ I declared, urging Prince and Abel to assist Angelo up. Without hesitation, they linked arms with the moaning figure and hoisted him to his feet. Despite his pain, he kept his head lowered, avoiding eye contact.

As I secured the chainsaw, I took a moment to survey the scene. My eyes met Angelo’s, his expression weary and forlorn. After priming the engine and locking the chain brake, I nestled the chainsaw snugly into the ground, using my foot as a brace. As I leaned my full weight onto the machine, I yanked on the starter rope, feeling the satisfying buzz of the engine roaring to life. With the razor-sharp blade whirring ominously in the background, the only sound capable of drowning out the moans coming from Angelo, I prepared to cut through anything that stood in my way.

My twisted sense of humour takes hold as I toy with Angelo’s fear. ‘Shall I relieve you of your extremities? Perhaps your hands? Legs? Neck?’ I offer, savouring his trembling response. My eyes appraise his helpless body, weighing the options for the most satisfying amputation.

Arms it is.

Finally, I settled in his arms. ‘Extend them,’ I commanded coolly. My henchmen, Prince and Abel, obey without question, their grip firm as they wrench Angelo’s arms taut.

As I approached Angelo, his face contorted with terror. His chest heaved with rapid breaths while he struggled to fend off Abel and Prince. With a swift and decisive move, I thrust my whirring, razor-sharp blade into his arm. His scream of pain was music to my ears as his flesh tore open, leaving a bright red spray coating my face and clothes. The blade savagely tore into flesh, carving deep wounds that ooze blood.

The sickening sound of flesh ripping apart blended with Angelo’s screams in a cacophonous display of fear and pain. I revelled in the sensation of pushing the heavy blade deeper into his flesh, feeling his bones shatter in a sickening crunch. And then, with a final, satisfying tug, Angelo’s arm separated from his body, falling to the ground with a visceral thud. I couldn’t help but quiver with pleasure as I watched him writhe in agony.

“Bloody hell.” Prince mumbles gawking at the penetrated arm. A thin layer of sweat beaded my forehead, caressing my tongue against my upper lip as I cocked my head to the side. “That’s fucking

disgusting,” I snarled. Abel’s forehead creased. “Yeah, no shit.” Despite his cries of agony, I refused to acknowledge his presence. My mind was fixated on the tantalizing prospect of causing him unbearable suffering.

As Angelo lay there, on the brink of death, I revelled in the power I held over his fate. But death was not welcome in this room – not yet.

I had promised him unbearable agony, and I am a man of my word.

“Angelo was not working alone,” Abel announces, nonchalantly slipping his fingers into his pockets. From the shadows emerges Prince, exiting the warehouse with a flickering flame at his fingertips. The scent of tobacco lingers as he inhales deeply, the cherry of his cigarette glowing like a beacon of danger. With a smooth exhale, Prince positions himself as a formidable force at Abel’s side.

As he halted in front of us, his searing gaze carefully scanning my frame, I felt my hackles rise. ‘What?’ I practically snapped, irritated by his presence.

‘That blood has spoiled your suit. Instead of trying to wash it out, you might as well chuck it in the trash.’ With a nonchalant shrug and a wave towards my stained attire, he suggested a drastic course of action. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but peer down at my own saturated clothes, feeling a twinge of disappointment at the sorry state of my outfit.

However, my attention quickly shifted from my ruined wardrobe to my brother as he revealed troubling news. ‘Why do you say that?’ I prompted, my piercing eyes narrowing with suspicion. ‘We’ve heard whispers that Angelo wasn’t the only one they tried to turn on you,’ he elucidated gravely.

‘Nico, Chris, Marcello, Zo, and Tobi all supposedly got approached as well.

Not by the DGSE or any federal agents, but by someone far more dangerous-someone who knows their way around the underworld’s dark corners.’ His ominous words hung in the air, casting a shadow of doubt over our supposed allies.

My shoulders tense.

The bridge of power lies within our grasp, but it seems that one of our own inner circle crime families has been using it against us. They slyly approach my loyal men, whispering lies into their ears until they turn against me. And when these manipulative snakes are denied, they slither away to replace the next weakling to ensnare. Eventually, they replace their mark – a foolish pawn who takes the bait and leads the feds right to our doorstep, bringing chaos and destruction in their wake.

I can’t believe I missed this treachery unfolding right under my nose. I let out a frustrated groan and rub my temples, trying to think of a way to catch the culprit. ‘Do we have any idea who’s behind this?’ I asked Abel, hoping for a breakthrough. He shakes his head, and I feel my anger rising like a flame. ‘What about any leads?’ Prince chimes in, blowing a ring of smoke.

Abel nods slowly, ‘We’re working on it.’

But we all know that time is running out and the stakes have never been higher.

Abel is the sharp, cunning mind at my side, expertly formulating strategies and gathering intel. As my trusted underboss, he pours every last drop of blood, sweat, and tears into his role.

A sleek SUV glides to a stop before us, and Prince deftly extinguishes his cigarette with a flick of his foot.

“Catch me up with you and replace any leads.” he declares as he climbs into the car, leaving Abel and me standing outside the looming warehouse.

‘There’s more,’ he blurts out suddenly. My brow furrows, curiosity piqued.

‘Remember when you asked me to do a background check on Irena? Well, I dug into her past and came across some rather unsavory details about her marriage – it’s a real fucked up story.’ I raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue.

“During my conversation with the Nowak brothers, there wasn’t anything suspicious that caught my attention. They disclosed that although Irena’s marriage to Viktor had its challenges, it was generally acceptable. However, as they only provided limited information, I decided to investigate further by contacting the individuals who previously worked as cleaners and guards for the couple’s former residence. From my interactions with them, it was evident that Viktor, an elderly man, took undue advantage of young Irena.

The workers would arrive at work sporadically and hardly ever saw Irena; when they did, she kept

herself covered, was silent, and maintained a distance from them, as if she were a ghost. Although the maids were concerned, they knew it was none of their business. However, I became intrigued by the situation and decided to investigate further. It turned out that things were so severe that Viktor ended up firing most of the staff who had worked in the house, leaving only one maid. Although she worked there for two years, she lost her job when she found Irena trying to commit suicide. Fortunately, the maid managed to stop her and contacted Viktor. However, when he returned home, he verbally attacked the maid and fired her abruptly, without explanation.” he explains.

Shaking his head as he sighs.

“This shit gets worse,” he mumbles to himself. “What else did you replace out?” I question, eager to know what dark secrets Irena has locked away.

“The individual who discovered Irena was a domestic worker named Jennet. She originated from Vilankulo, a rural town in Mozambique, and relocated to Poland when she was 19 to financially support her family.

Unexpectedly, Irena showed up at her doorstep one year later looking dishevelled with torn clothing and a bruised face. Jennet was taken aback but provided aid to Irena. During their conversation, Irena revealed everything about Viktor and how she was unable to escape the marriage. Ultimately, the only solution was to end his life, and Jennet assisted her by providing the safest and most straightforward means to do so.”

“As in, kill him off?” I inquired, Abel nodded. “Yes, with poison but not just any poison she used apples.” he conceited. “Apples?” I blink back in disbelief.

What is this? Snowhite and the old witch with the poisonous apple, whatever the fuck kids watch these days.

“So you’re telling me. Irena killed Viktor by using poisonous apples?” I snarled, “I got the same reaction but it’s what is in the apples.”

The seeds.

“The seeds. They contain cyanide and somehow transformed those seeds into cyanide salt. Which results in seizures, slow heart rate, shortness of breath, and finally death. So it will play out as a casual heart attack.” he blurts out, folding his arms.

“Irena killed her husband,” I state the obvious aloud. “Yeah, and she did a fucking good job acting out her innocent as if she was not behind it. I mean using apple seeds, turning them into salt, sprinkling it on his food and the result leads to a heart attack…Fucking genius.” he boasted. I run my fingers through my hair as I process the information.

My doe is not so innocent after all.

“You better be alert because your wife might kill you and you certainly will not be expecting it.”

My brother might be an ass but he’s on to something. If Irena killed Viktor with no one suspecting her, what’s going to stop her from killing me so that she can finally get her wish and escape?

IRENA

As I slowly emerge from my slumber, I am greeted by a delicate tune that resonates in the air. My senses are alert, and I listen closely, wondering where this symphony is coming from. My ears soon recognize the sweet sound of a piano, but my mind is puzzled. When did we acquire such a beautiful instrument?

I rise from my bed, hesitantly taking small steps towards the source of the enigmatic music. The hardwood floor sends shivers up my spine, but the melody continues to beckon me closer. Every step feels like a lifetime, my heart racing with anticipation.

The tune grows louder and more captivating. It’s got me in its grasp, and I’m powerless to resist. My spirit is consumed by the enchanting melody that takes me to a place where I’ve never been before.

A sudden jolt runs through my body as I reach the wooden door that’s been guarding my curiosity for far too long. My heart thumps wildly against my chest in anticipation of the unknown. I take a deep breath and push the door open, only to be met by a haunting sight that freezes me in place.

My eyes are drawn to Saint, seated at the pristine white piano, his figure drenched in the deepest crimson. Blood. It’s everywhere. Yet, there’s something intoxicatingly beautiful about the way the moon’s soft light caresses his reddened skin, transforming the gruesome scene into a captivating work of art. Saint is lost in his music, his fingers dancing along the keys as the familiar melody fills the room.

From my vantage point, I can’t help but marvel at the sheer elegance of it all, the way every note seems to paint the air with a hauntingly sweet symphony. It’s as if the world around me has faded into the background to make way for the stark beauty that unfolds before me.

The piano’s somber melody echoes through the room, a haunting lament of agony and despair. His fingers dance across the keys with a palpable sorrow that defies explanation. I watch him, enraptured by the vulnerable moment he shares with me without him acknowledging me. The mood is poignant, a hushed tranquility that somehow heightens the sorrow as it creeps forward, swallowing the light inch by inch.

Suddenly the notes stop, and the sudden quiet is deafening. It’s as though all Hell has broken loose, but not a sound is heard, only the silent tension that crackles in the air.

‘Saint?’ I whisper, afraid to break the spell of this sorrowful moment. He turns to me, and his fierce gaze pierces me to the core, a reminder of the pain he carries within.

‘Why did you kill your husband?’

My chest constricts as he advances towards me, his presence alone creating an electricity so tense it feels like a storm brewing inside me. Breaths coming in shallow gasps, I wonder – how much does he know? Does he know everything? Panic grips me tightly as I bristle with trepidation. The voice in my head screams out that I’m as good as dead.

“Answer the questions, Irena.” He growls, demanding an answer, and with each passing step, my very essence feels like it’s being stripped away. Words fail me as I stand there, a statue of terror, unable to move or speak.

The man standing before me was the epitome of madness, unravelling my deepest secrets with an eerie ease. I couldn’t escape his reach, his towering figure looming over me like an omen. The stench of death and decay emanated from him like a twisted badge of honour.

As I met his gaze, my heart exploded in my chest. His eyes, a hypnotic swirl of gold and emerald, were bewitchingly beautiful and terrifying all at once. It was as if I was ensnared by a demon’s soul, with nowhere to run and no one to save me.

‘I didn’t do it,’ I lied, hoping to dodge his wrath. But his eyes bore deeper into mine, darkening with fury and suspicion. ‘You’re not just a killer, but a liar too,’ he growled, advancing towards me until I was pressed against the wall. I couldn’t breathe. ‘Tell me the truth,’ he demanded, his voice thick as honey and deadly as a blade.

‘Why. Did. You. Kill. Viktor?’ His inquiry pierces the air, slicing through the silence. My throat sears with a burning sensation as my eyes meet Saint’s piercing stare. My anxious tongue darts out, grazing my lips. ‘He…hurt me,’

I whisper weakly. Suddenly, Saint’s crimson-stained palms cup my cheek, and a shiver runs through me. Tears threaten to spill, and a thin sheen of sweat beads on my forehead. My breath catches in my throat as he leans in close, his lips almost grazing my ear. ‘How badly?’ he murmurs, his breath mingling with mine, igniting a scorching flame deep within me.

My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach at the sound of his words.

‘Very badly,’ I reply, biting my lip to stop the trembling. ‘So you killed him?’

Saint questions with a raised eyebrow. I nod, closing my eyes to the memory.

‘Talk to me, Doe,’ he demands sternly, his voice ringing out like a bell. ‘Yes,’

I whisper, feeling his breath still tickling my skin.

Like a bolt of lightning, fear shoots through my body as I sense something cold and hard pressing against my temple. The sound of the safety being undone reverberates through my ears like a chilling alarm bell, pounding against my eardrums like a relentless drumbeat that I cannot ignore.

‘Open your eyes, Irena.’ His voice is low, rumbling like thunder in the silence of the room. Slowly, I obey, my heart hammering out a frantic beat like a caged bird, wild and desperate to escape.

I meet his gaze, the cold metal of the gun still pressed to my temple, a dangerous and unwavering threat that hangs like a sword of Damocles over my head.

‘You’re going to answer my questions, and you’re going to do it honestly,’

he demands, his voice like steel. My mind races, desperately seeking a way out of this terrifying situation.

But then he leans in close, his breath a warm whisper against my ear that sends shivers down my spine. ‘Or I’m going to pull the trigger,’ he adds softly, his words carrying a lethal finality like a death knell.

I whimper softly, my body shaking with fear as tears escape my eyes.

Without fighting, I know that I have to tell the truth. One wrong word, one single misstep, could mean the difference between life and death.

The words slice through me, penetrating the deepest crevices of my being.

Each one crudely etched and clawed at my very soul, like fiery nails scraping against my spine.

My heart pounds a frenzied rhythm as his menacing tone reverberates through the air, a storm brewing on the horizon, threatening to unleash its fury upon me.

I try in vain to swallow the rising lump in my throat, but it feels like a boulder lodged in my windpipe. The fine hairs on my neck stand on end like soldiers at attention, as a numbing chill races down my spine like a menacing phantom.

‘Tell me, Doe,’ he prodded, his piercing gaze slicing through me like a cold blade. My breath caught in my chest as I met Saint’s once-mischievous eyes, now darkened with a hint of cruelty. Every inch of me was consumed by an icy chill, my nerves frayed to the point of breaking.

‘When did Viktor first lay a hand on you?’ My heart raced, and beads of sweat formed on my brow and upper lip. As Saint’s unwavering gaze bore into me, I struggled to replace the right words.

‘One year into our marriage,’ I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. Saint’s predatory gaze roamed over my frame, no longer with the seductive allure that had once drawn me to him, but with a savage hunger.

Nervously, I licked my lips, trying to steady my nerves.

But a small voice within me reminded me to stay calm, to choose my words with care. After all, Saint was not a lie detector – or was he?

“You were what? Seventeen?”

I nod.

His chest emits a menacing growl as he scrutinizes me with intensity, causing me to freeze in terror. The sensation of the gun tracing the contours of my jawline nearly brings me to the brink of losing bladder control.

“You’re trembling.”

“You’re pointing a gun at me.”

“Did he assault you?” As I met his intense stare, I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. His dark eyebrows knitted together like storm clouds, and he ran his tongue over his teeth as if trying to discern whether to unleash his fury or offer comfort. My heart drummed frantically in my chest as I fought to maintain my composure, pushing back the haunting memories of Viktor’s brutal touch. I could still feel his rough hands on my skin, his hot breath on my neck as he whispered sickening words to me. Taking a deep breath, I summoned the courage to answer his question with a steely determination.

‘Yes,’ I said, my voice unwavering. ‘Did he rape you?’

“Yes.”

“Did you tell anyone?” He inquires, his piercing golden-green eyes ablaze with fury. I quiver, reluctant to mention my unsupportive uncles, knowing that Saint’s confrontational nature may not end well for them. However, beneath his simmering anger, I sense a genuine concern and compassion. It’s as if he too has experienced this crushing rejection before. I can see past the rage to the hurt and pain that he bears. At this moment, his reaction tells me that he’ll stop at nothing to protect me.

Perhaps it’s only my mind conjuring these delusions, playing tricks on me in my vulnerable state.

With barely a breath to spare, I confess to Saint, ‘I confided in my uncles, but they favoured Viktor’s word over mine.’ The intensity of his gaze threatens to rob me of breath altogether, as though there’s something truly captivating in the depths of my eyes.

‘Tell me, how did you manage to endure?’ His voice is a hushed plea, searching for answers within me. At that moment, I struggled to swallow the lump lodged in my throat. Saint’s inquiries delve so deeply, normally I’d never divulge such intimate details. But in this strange, twisted way, it feels liberating to purge my traumatic experiences. For the first time in years, someone is eager to hear me out, to listen to my story. And that someone is none other than Saint.

As the cold steel barrel of the gun pressed against my temple, I knew there was no avoiding confronting the demons of my past. For too long, I had pushed them deep down, hoping they would stay buried forever. But now, standing before me was the only way to unburden my tortured soul.

As beads of sweat ran down my forehead, I hesitantly spoke out, my voice trembling with fear. ‘Alcohol,’ I said, only revealing a sliver of the truth.

I only confided in one person about my self-inflicted injuries – an ex-colleague named Jennet. I would often harm myself and although I didn’t understand my reasons for doing so, it seemed to be a reflection of my feelings of unworthiness due to Viktor’s abuse. After Viktor had used physical violence against me for the third time, I found myself hurting myself for the first time. The experience was surreal – I felt both everything and nothing. I vividly remember the day when I frantically searched through the bathroom cabinets until I found a needle. Despite my confusion and pain, I convinced myself that I deserved to feel pain and so I pricked my finger with the needle. Although it was only a minor wound, it had a significant impact on me.

Another event resulted in me scalding myself with boiling water, causing my self-inflicted wounds to bleed. I felt hopeless and ready to surrender to life’s challenges.

As I forcefully stood there, I was a girl struggling to deal with an unbearable situation that no one should ever experience.

With trembling courage, I confided my deepest secrets to Saint. It was then that I realized the truth: I used to burn myself. As I choked back tears, desperately fighting for words, I felt as though my voice was being stifled by an invisible force. But what shook me to my core was the realization that the label ‘self-harm’ had never really impacted me. In my mind, it had always been nothing more than ‘punishing myself.’ The atmosphere crackled with raw intensity as emotions surged within me, whipping up an unstoppable cyclone of chaos.

As Saint’s eyes trace the contours of my exposed breast, a shiver runs down my spine and my heart thunders like an approaching storm. Beads of sweat form on my brow, as I try to maintain my composure. ‘Doe, you and I share a bond that surpasses the physical,’ he says with a dark chuckle. ‘The wounds of our past have scarred us both, and in that, we can bond over our traumas.’

‘I would rather dance with fire than bond with you,’ I hissed through gritted teeth, my bitterness palpable. ‘You wouldn’t want that.’ His voice is a low thrum that echoes in my chest, leaving a faint mark.

“How would you know?” I question.

As he leans closer, his minty breath tickles my skin, and his lips trail across my earlobe. I shudder at his proximity and steel myself against the sway of his charm.

‘We share more similarities than you can possibly imagine,’ he asserted. “I doubt it.”

‘You’re a mysterious enigma, guarding your heart like a fortress. You shun physical contact and are wary of most people who come your way. Your hair is as dark and brooding as your own soul. Yet, you deem yourself a monster, unaware that a monster can take on many forms. Sometimes, they are fragile fairies who fear the warmth of love, having never experienced it before. They believe they are undeserving, but little do they know that they are the ones who yearn for it the most,’ he pauses, peering down at me. “No one knew the battle you fought inside, every day and when you finally got the courage to seek out for help they silenced you. All the anger and betrayal slowly growing inside of you–consuming. Eating you up until you are left with nothing but darkness. Pain. Anger. Betrayal. You’ve bled in silence for so long that it became your favourite way of speaking.’ His unwavering gaze meets mine, and I am left contemplating his words.

The cold metal of the gun grazes my cheek as I instinctively turn away from Saint’s fiery gaze. His words are like daggers, slicing through my soul.

He speaks of the battle I fought within, obscured from the world’s view.

When I finally mustered up the courage to cry out for help, they silenced me. Emotions like anger and betrayal took root and left me consumed by an endless darkness.

As I take a deep inhale, my breath falters, and my muscles tense up like coiled springs. My heart beats a wild rhythm as if trying to escape my chest.

Despite my resistance, I must admit that Saint’s words ring true. With a single glance, he saw through my external facade and understood the inner turmoil that’s been consuming me for years. I replace it hard to accept that Saint and I share more similarities than I had imagined.

My mind struggles to push away the unsettling notion that he perceives the shadowed side of my being, concealed under layers of restrain and guarded emotions.

A solitary teardrop cascades down my cheek, and my heart tightens. ‘Why the silence, Doe? Lost of words?’ His words trail off, and he places a gentle hand on my cheek. With the tip of his gun, he delicately pushes a stubborn strand of hair behind my ear. ‘We may have different faces, but we dance with the same demons. The only divergence between us is that you refuse to embrace them. You persistently

fight them each day, and I wonder if it’s because you fear losing your grip.’

He pauses briefly, “All you have to do is-” My body jolts when he pulls the trigger. “Let go,” however, I quickly realized there were no bullets, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

‘You will never be the same if you do.’ He whispers.

I recoil from him with a vigorous shake of my head, gasping for air as a suffocating feeling grips me. With a heavy heart, I flee the room and rush towards the safety of my haven upstairs. Alone and free from his grip, I surrender to the agony and release the dam of unshed tears, cascading down my cheeks like a gentle stream. My mind swirls with vivid images of Viktor, a wave of shock and trauma assaulting me with overwhelming intensity. I lean against the cool hal way walls and succumb to the weight of despair, my entire being wracked with heartache and pain.

I’m scared.

Trembling with fear, I cower at the thought of Saint peeking into the depths of my soul. The very essence of me that I’ve kept locked away for ages, is now at risk of being exposed. What if he becomes privy to the eerie emotions that gnaw away at my insides? What if we’re bound by the same fears, demons lurking in the shadows?

Although a strange sense of solace creeps in at the mere thought of it.

I stand here, vulnerable and quivering, I realize that I may end up betraying myself by letting him in.