I understood that pain, waking up without the person you wanted to wake up to, and she was right, it was very fucking painful.
“Why cancer?” I quizzed, feeling like she’d heard one of the almost silent conversations I probably shouldn’t have had on the phone while here in this room, even if it was long after she’d fallen asleep. Maybe her subconscious had done that, taking in details without her even knowing about it.
As I said, I was no psychologist.
“It gives me time to prepare. To grieve in advance. I never got that.”
“Do you think that’s easier?”
“No. It’s just as hard. But I’m trapped in this cycle now, and that’s okay, because for a little while, when the daydreams start over, I get to keep him. To fall in love with him all over again.”
“That’s terribly depressing, Jolie.” And it was terribly unnerving how accurate I’d heard her daydreams to be. It was like she knew the Woodrow I did—the man, not the boy.
Maybe she knew him well enough to predict how he’d turn out, or maybe her subconscious really was stealing details as I spoke and she slept.
“Have you given more thought to what I asked you yesterday?”
I sat in silence, thinking over her question from yesterday—when I spent half of the day here, having no one to answer to. My boss—Badeaux—had been killed in Paris, murdered by someone who wanted revenge. Big boss was hiding somewhere in France, knowing he’d be next.
I was low-key irked that I didn’t have their dirty blood on my hands, because no one wanted the scum that was these people, ridded from the earth more than me. I saw too much. I knew too much.
But I could be grateful to the stranger causing issues in Paris for giving me the full run of this place.
“Will you end it for me?” her question replayed in my ears, her sweet voice still innocent.
I pondered over how she’d survived here, by daydreaming the same thing over and over again. Of a savior coming in to rescue her, bringing his good and bad side along for the ride.
The bad side often came out when shady bastards came to try out the goods—girls like her, who couldn’t be sold. I guess it was easier for her to think of Hell violating her than her having to live in reality, where strangers were using and abusing her body.
“I can’t live another day without him. I can’t wake up again without him here to really save me.”
“Sometimes, you have to be your own hero.”
“I’m not a hero, and I’m done being a victim. I want to be with him. Please.” She stared at me through the single hole in the sack, cut out directly in line with her right eye. “Please,” her whisper crept through the material.
I glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room; the red light indicated that nothing was being recorded. I pulled a needle from my pocket, and in her view, I tapped on the clear barrel, filled with something I’d gotten illegally that would have her vision turning black.
Her shoulders raised and fell, her body grateful I’d decided to give her what it needed—peace.
I pushed up onto my feet and took my first step in her direction. “I’m sorry, Jolie, for letting it go on this long.
Chapter 34
Jolie—present day
Inodded. A tranquil feeling spread over my body, overpowering the goosebumps that constantly resided on my skin. I watched Olivier’s black shiny shoes bend at the toes as they brought him closer.
He lowered to his haunches and gently lifted the sack from my face, placing it at my side, where the scratchy material tickled my fingertips. I tried to scratch them on the concrete, making them bleed within a second.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his tone gentle as he pulled me near.
I nodded again, titling my head, ready for the sharp prick to pierce my neck.
“You know what you’re doing?” I asked, pulling my hair to one side, with no fear of how I looked with it off my face. Ollie was never one of the guy’s who’d dish out hateful sneers.
“I do,” he replied, sounding confident.
And I trusted him; he’d been a friend to me when I needed one most. He disciplined those that hurt me, and sat with me, keeping me company and talking while my imaginary friends slept.
