Her name makes me shudder now. I always knew something was off, yet somehow, I never allowed myself to think about it for too long. I’d always been invisible. I should have known better than to discard another invisible woman. If anything, I should have taken a special interest in this girl who in so many ways mirrored me. Instead, I allowed her to exist only in some deep recess of my mind.
Even after she brought me the dessert that held the key to a much-desired but illusory freedom, I didn’t dwell on her.
Not even when I used that key and found myself in the clutches of Angel.
And when I realized she was the one who had yelled ‘Stop’—meaning she’d been there when I’d stolen the perfume—I merely… well, forgot about it.
All of it points to one thing. She’s involved with Angel. She saw me steal the perfume, though the nanochip was no longer inside it, if it ever was. I suddenly realize it probably wasn’t. That nanochip had never left Angel’s hands. They never intended to hand it over to anyone.
But it was a lot easier to blame some apparently weak, helpless girl, than to out themselves to Devil.
So the disappearance of the nanochip was pinned on me. Did Lucy orchestrate it? Or only fail to stop it? Either way, she’s guilty.
And then, she gave me the key. Not to save me. To kill me.
She deserves to die. And yet, I can’t seem to speak her name to Damien. The thought that she should die over me makes no sense.
If he was the one in danger, it would be a different story. But aslong as it’s only me… I’m not about to start ratting her out, even if sheisthe rat.
I’ve been lost in my thoughts for some time when I notice with a jolt that the sun has dipped below the horizon, and darkness enshrouds me. I must have been locked outside for quite some time now.
I can barely see my fingers. Fuck. I can’t see them at all. My heart starts beating erratically. I hate the dark. I fucking hate the dark. And I’m stuck outside, trapped in it.
I train my eyes to the bedroom, wondering why its light no longer reaches me.
Panic suddenly chokes my chest when I realize it’s just as dark as out here. The light is turned off, and in the darkness, I can’t make out his shape. He’s no longer in the bedroom.
It must be nighttime by now. I’ve been here for hours. And now, he’s left me alone.
Sweat beads on my temples. I don’t know if I’m more terrified of the darkness or of his absence. I wonder where he could possibly be. I’ve begun to have such faith in him that the thought he could even leave my side—if only to go to some other part of the house—feels strange. But as that thought sinks in, another, far more unbearable one, follows it quickly.Has he abandoned me?
Did he bring me up to this place just to lock me out on a balcony and desert me?
The idea should make me laugh. I know, objectively, it’s absurd. Still, with Damien, you never know. No matter how much trust I have in him, some part of me still doubts. I thought I’d vanquished my fears once and for all after the wedding. But no. Some part of me will always doubt.
If he’s really deserted me, then I’m trapped in the middle of nowhere, and no one knows where I am.
Unless Lucy does.
At the thought of her name, my heart practically gives out.She knows. Fuck. She knows.
All thoughts of my own predicament melt as a new fear wraps its clammy hands around my heart.Did something happen to Damien? Did Lucy tell Angel where to find us?
A searing pain crashes through my temples, and I actually groan out loud. My mind is spiraling into absolutely unbearable thoughts.
Did Angel follow us out here? Have they killed Damien? Are they coming to kill me?
That last thought doesn’t frighten me half as much as the idea that they might have killed Damien. Suddenly I realize that by withholding my suspicions, I’ve endangered him just as much as myself. I hate myself. Goddamnit, I hate myself.If only I’d told him…
I lean hard against the glass, willing the coldness to cut through the fog that’s begun to swirl around me. But it’s useless. My entire body dissolves into shudders, and as panic soars through me, I find myself unable to breathe. I try to suck in breaths, but they’re shallow, and the more I try, the more lightheaded I feel. Soon my vision grows dark and I feel myself going limp.
As the fog nearly strangles me, I feel a deep, soothing warmth against me. I’m cradled in the arms of the person whose scent I would recognize anywhere.
His touch is enough to help me emerge from the depths my mind has sent me to. I cling to him, inhaling him, my hands clutching the sleeve of his shirt, unable to let go.
“It’s alright, darling,” breathes a voice. “Everything’s okay.”
I’m vaguely aware that he’s brought me to the bathroom. I hear the sound of running water before I’m lifted into warm, sudsy water, still enveloped in his arms.
