My thoughts might one day destroy someone I loved. I had a predator in my own skull, clawing at me from the inside.
I hated everything.
I hated my mind.
I hated this illness.
I hated how violent it felt, how it made me feel dangerous, broken, unlovable.
I hatedme.Terrible, imperfect me.
I thought of Alek then, and it nearly crushed me. How could he not hate me, too? Loving me would be like tying something solid and asking him to stand in the ocean. It only ever ended in emptiness and pain, because one day, the tide would rise, and I would pull him under without meaning to.
Something heavy banged in the distance, but I barely heard it through my shallow breaths. It was a loud noise, furious and sudden. The sound of darkness and determination made real. But I knew it wasn’t real. Nothing ever was.
A few moments later, it came again.
Harder.
My body flinched before my thoughts caught up. My heart slammed painfully against my ribs, each beat loud and wrong. For one horrifying moment, I wondered if this was it. If I’d waited too long, and my indecision had finally turned fatal.
I heard the sound of wood hitting the floor. Was that my front door?
“Eva!” his voice cut through the fog, raw and unrestrained. That sound—my name, spoken like that—cracked something open inside me.
The sound of thudding footsteps vibrated the floor as he called out my name, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My limbs felt locked in place, heavy and unresponsive, like they belonged to a statue instead of a person.
“Eva,” he breathed, crossing the bathroom in seconds, dropping to his knees in front of me. “Fuck, Eva…”
All of a sudden, a pair of blue eyes so dark they looked almost black filled my vision. They reached me through the fog, low and real and unmistakable. He cut through the void like a hand reaching down into icy water and pulling me from the depths.
Alek’s expression was furious yet lined with terror. His eyes scanned my body while his hands hovered, unsure where to touch first. I longed to reach out and smooth the lines on his handsome yet twisted face.
“Are you hurt?” His voice was rough, edged with something close to panic. “Did someone come here? Did they touch you?”
I shook my head weakly, the motion barely perceptible.
“No,” I whispered, my voice thin and distant. “I just…”
He scanned the room again, jaw clenched, body coiled like a weapon, already planning retaliation against enemies that didn’t exist.
When he looked back at me, really looked, something shifted. The fight drained out of him all at once. He saw it then—not blood or bruises, not signs of a struggle, but the vacancy in my eyes, the way my body had folded inward, the tremor running through me like a fault line.
He exhaled, long and shaky, like he’d been holding his breath since the moment I stopped answering.
“Tell me something real,” I finally rasped. “Please… I need something not inside my head.”
Alek hesitated, chewing on his lip for a few moments before softly saying, “I was twelve when my sister died in my arms. Liza was eight. It was a car accident, but a purposeful one. I don’t think she was supposed to be the casualty. I think I was. My world has always been a dangerous one, but until then, I lived in ignorance. That day, I looked Death in the eyes and made a vow that I would become his master. And I have. I am the Reaper. It does not bring Liza back, but… it helps.”
I blinked a few times, his words pulling me from the fog a little. He wastwelve.He was just a child, yet he took on such a burden. I understood, then, why Alek could sometimes be so cold. Why he would do anything to make me his. Because in Alek’s mind, ownership meant control. It meant safety.
I looked up at him, at the thin line of his lips, the worry in his brow. “I was in a car accident once. I was only four, so I don’t remember it much, but I remember it being my fault. I distracted the driver, screaming when I saw an ice cream shop. It was stupid, but I suppose I paid for it. I was injured pretty badly.” I lifted some of my curtain bangs and showed him the long, thin white scar. “My life changed so much after that. My parents became distant, and my brother stopped being myfriend and turned into my protector. I started wearing things like bows and ribbons, so I had something other than the scar to look at when I stared into the mirror. And a voice appeared in my head. A mean voice. Acruelone that wouldn’t let me forget how much I ruined things for my family.”
A choked sob escaped me as I remembered that lonely little girl with only her thoughts for company. And those thoughts were not kind.
“I’m broken,” I whispered.
“You’re not broken, solnyshka. That little girl didnothingwrong. And her scar? It makes her so fucking beautiful.”
