I stare at him, breathing hard.It would hurt less if he reached through my ribs and squeezed my heart.
“But I finally found you,” he says, “and I’m not giving you up.You might be willing to throw your life away, but I can’t allow it.You might be fine with sacrificing yourself for justice, but I’m not.”
My lower lip trembles.“Rex,” I whisper.I cup his cheek, and he leans into my hand, his eyes closed.I don’t see Rex Roy, billionaire.I see a little boy standing at his parents’ graves with a devastated look on his face.He’s lost so much.
I want to hold him and comfort him like he’s comforted me.
But I don’t dare get closer to him.It’s too dangerous to let him in.
“This is all I have,” I whisper.“My mission, my fight for justice.It’s all I have.”
He presses his forehead against mine.“And you’re all I have.”The air gusts out of him like he’s been punched.I feel his pain reverberating through my own body.
He turns his head so his lips brush my face.“I guess...I had hoped you’d say the same about me.”
I turn from Rex, unwilling to face him any longer.
His arms tighten around my torso as if he won’t allow me to retreat even a millimeter.He’s already trapped my body, but he wants more.
He wants everything.
And even though we’re fighting, I relax, soaking in his warmth.
“If you ever felt anything for me, if any of it was real, you would set me free,” I tell him sadly.
My body doesn’t know he’s my enemy, and I’m too overwrought to keep up my walls.It’s a relief to relax.My subconscious doesn’t see Rex as a threat.Quite the opposite.It’s only in Rex’s arms that I feel safe.
I don’t know what to do with that, so I let it go and let my mind drift.
In a drowsy half-sleep, I fall into a scene from the past.It’s not a dream, not a vision, but a memory.
I’m gripping twin ropes, staring up at the canopy of leaves.The sunlight streams between the green.
There’s a golden quality to the air.I don’t know if it’s real or a halcyon haze coating my memory.
My father is behind me.He calls my name, and birds explode from the trees above my head, flying away in a dark group that blots out the sun.
This was my childhood.A simple time filled with wholesome moments.I’m sure it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but I only remember the good.My memory is like a faded photograph, showing only the happy smiles and none of the dark corners of the day.
My brothers and I went to school and then to the park, where Dad made us do our homework on a picnic table.When we were finished, he allowed us to play before going back to the house, where Mom would have her account books spread over the dining room table and something bubbling in the slow cooker.
I was happy then,and like anyone truly happy, I was completely unaware of it.
You think it’ll be easier if you just don’t allow yourself to have things,Rex said.And he’s right.I have nothing of my old life—just empty cupboards and solitary meals, a life revolving around my work.A life my younger self wouldn’t understand.A life that isn’t a life at all.
That girl is gone.She became you.
I died in my bedroom that night.But the Bondage Killer didn’t snuff out my life.I did.
More memories rise to the surface.Christmas, making tamales while my mom, aunt, and grandmother weave a constant conversation over my head.My father’s gloved hand squeezing mine, ready to lift me up if I slip on the icy path.My brothers and I lying on the floor surrounded by our toy cars and plastic dinosaurs, a tiny city of our own making.
I haven’t allowed myself to think of these happy times.The walls I erected kept everything out.The good, the bad, the pain.
But remembering the good is worth the pain.And Rex gives me a safe place to feel it.
You’re afraid if you love someone, you’ll lose them like you did your family.
He doesn’t know how close to the truth he is.Everyone I’ve gotten close to has died.I have no choice but to push them away.
