He lowers his eyes. “I swear I did.”
I don’t want to ask how he knew it was me. I don’t want to stand here and listen to him lie again and again, messing with my head and manipulating me. I’m fucking tired of people toying with my heart.
And yet a tiny voice in the back of mind forces me to ask anyway. “How did you know it was me just bylookingat me? Why didn’t you tell me the truth that day?”
He leans his forehead on my shoulder, and his electrifying scent makes me shudder. “Your entire existence is engraved in my soul, every detail of your face and body, your laugh and smile. I couldn’t forget you even if I tried.”
I breathe in and out, hoping to regain some self-assurance. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not the man you knew and clearly you aren’t the kid I knew.”
Disgust and confusion swarm my thoughts. Did I groom him? How did he turn out like this? What have I done to him? I’m horrible.I’mdisgusting.
My heart hammers in my chest as my breathing gets caught in my throat.
I can’t breathe. The walls are closing in on themselves, and I’m trapped between them, stuck in a puddle of crimson blood. My blood. The one I spilled because of my fucked-up heart and my rotting brain.
“Please, stop. Let go of me, Visha,” I cry, shaking as my veins pulse with the need to purge. “Please.”
He takes a step back, blinking away unshed tears and cups my cheeks. Worry contorts his features as his eyes dart from my wobbly lips and the nails digging in my scar. “Aoi, what’s wrong? Does it hurt? Breathe slowly.”
I glare at him, inhaling chopped breaths as my lungs fill with sizzling red ink, choking me. “S-stop.” My knees give out but Visha catches me and picks me up.
My fingers clutch his shirt, holding on to this man I want to punch and scream at, but I can’t even bring myself to look at him. He settles me down on the couch and kneels between my legs, causing another memory to pop up in my head.
Visha brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “Look at me. Breathe in and out slowly.” He grabs my hand and lays it flat on his chest, his heart beating furiously. “Focus on the beats.”
He caresses my cheek with the other hand, watching me attentively and too tenderly. It makes me sick to the point I want to rip out my skin and snap my bones to feel something else.
It’s all because of him.
If he hadn’t lied to me–no, if he hadn’t been Visha, this wouldn’t have happened. Things would be different. I wouldn’t be in such pain, reminiscing about a time when I loved him like family, because he would’ve been someone else. We could have met as strangers and I wouldn’t feel guilty for loving him, for wanting him.
This istwisted. Andrew is Visha. The man I love is the child I took in a decade ago.
Panick explodes in my chest, and I yank my hand away from his, standing up and staggering away from him. He reaches for me, but I hold out my arm in front of me, stopping him from taking another step. “Don’t touch me. Stay there.”
I don’t recognize my voice. It’s a foreign sound, fragmented and devoid of joy.
If I hadn’t met him-
You’d be dead,the voice in the back of my head echoes.If you hadn’t met him on that snowy night, you’d be dead by your own hands.
That’s true. It’s because I found that adorable child on the sidewalk that I ended up postponing my suicide, until I completely ditched the idea for his sake–because he gave me love and a purpose.
But it’s different now. It’s all wrong and fucked up. I can’t love him. Not when he used to be that kid.
“This is wrong. Everything iswrong.”
Why did I have to find out? Why did I have to remember?
They should have remained deeply forgotten in the pits of my mind. That way I could have continued to love him, letting this feeling bloom in my chest without shame and guilt.
He gave me hope. I almost believed this could work, that maybe I wasn’t doomed to misery. I thought this was it, he wasthe one.
“It’s over.”
Visha’s lips part but I don’t give him a chance to speak before I run out of the penthouse, my lungs burning.
It was too goodto be true.
