He moaned, grip tightening on my ass. He pounded harder, each thrust deeper than the last, until I felt him swell, then the heat of him spilling inside me. He leaned into me, breath harsh, head resting on my shoulder, then sank his teeth into my skin as he pulled out.
He stepped back, leaving me hanging there.
He moved around to face me, pulling his pants up.
“I can’t do this,” he said, barely above a whisper. He came closer, forehead resting on mine. “If I stay, I might do something I’ll regret.”
I wanted to say“stay,”but my lips wouldn’t move. I couldn’t reach for him. I just rattled the chains, trying to stop him as he turned toward the exit.
But he left me.
My face dropped, and I sobbed without a sound. I felt used, empty, and heartbroken. I hated this version of myself, the one who always chose the wrong people, the one who gaveeverything and received nothing back. The one who believed promises that never came true. The one who cared for people who could not care in return.
Tears slid down my face, each one pulling me apart a little more. And maybe this time, if I survive the liar the same way I survived the clown, I can choose something different. I can choose myself. I owe that much to me, to the little girl who dreamed of happy ever afters. Maybe in this place of never after, that is my real ending. A promise I needed to keep for her.
I promised to love myself first, for once, before loving anyone else.
I must have fallen asleep from exhaustion because a heavy thud woke me up. When my eyes opened, I saw Oscar lying on the floor in front of me, completely passed out. Before I could process it, someone spun me around. The light flickered brighter, and when I blinked, Enzo was standing right in front of me.
“Christ, Chiara,” he whispered as he reached up and unhooked the chains above me. “What did he do to you?” His palm cupped my cheek, and the gentle touch made a tear roll down on its own down my cheek.
He lowered me carefully to the ground. Then he crossed to the shelves, grabbed a blanket, and came back to wrap it around me, tucking it in as if he could warm everything that had frozen inside me.
He took a small knife from his pocket and lifted my chin. Then, slowly, he sliced through the threads stitching my lipsshut, pulling each piece out until my mouth was free again.
My hand touched my lips, trembling as I tried to hold myself together, swallowing the urge to break down.
“What happened to him?” I whispered, my voice raw.
Enzo rolled his eyes. “He was being an asshole, so I took him out.” He exhaled sharply. “He is bad, Chiara. I walked in on him pacing around the room and talking to someone.” He paused, rubbing his forehead. “No one was there. You have to help him.”
“How?” I breathed. “He is crazy.”
“Dream. Put him in the Asylum. Make him better.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle filled with a pale liquid. “Oleander tea,” he said. “It will make you both dream.”
“What if I don’t come back?” I asked, staring at him. “What if we both don’t make it out?”
“In some weird way, he kind of loves you,” Enzo said, his brows pulling together as if he doubted his own words. “He will not allow you to be trapped there.”
“Okay,” I whispered. I took the bottle from his hand and drank two sips. It was enough to drag me into a heavy sleep.
I crawled toward Oscar and turned him onto his back. I lay my head on his chest, a tear slipping down as I whispered, “I will never fix you. And now that I know I can’t heal you, at least I can try to save you. Maybe one day you will find whatever it is you are looking for.”
Then I closed my eyes.
It felt like I was falling into a long, endless tunnel. My nightdress was white, fluttering around me, and objects floated beside me as if they had been pulled from memories I forgot I had.
A clock ticked in the air and showed 3:18 a.m. A heart-shaped necklace spun beside me. Branches of oleander flowers twisted in slow circles. Polaroid pictures floated past, showing strangersholding hands, their arms stretching as if they were forbidden to touch.
And then the fall ended, and I hit the bottom.
It was soft beneath me, almost like landing on a bed. I stood up slowly and saw a small door in front of me, only high enough to reach my hips. I pushed it open and stepped through.
On the other side, I was standing before the asylum.
Santa Maria Asylum.
I opened the gate. People in straitjackets moved around me, jerking their heads, screaming without words, trapped in their own minds. The air was freezing, cold enough that I could see my breath slipping out of me like smoke.
