“Even if we weren’t, I’m sure one of us would find a reason to change that within an hour.”
She’s quiet as she finally allows her stare to slice me open, carefully peel back my skin, then peer beneath the surface, searching for answers to questions she won’t ask aloud. If she needs to claw me open to see the truth, I’m happy to sharpen her nails.
“The black box,” she begins, eyeing me warily. “How do I trust it wasn’t you? How do I trust you at all? You’ve done everything in your power to ensure I know how much you hate me and want me to suffer. Suddenly being nice to me, slowly gaining my trust so I let my guard down, only to humiliate me all over again—it would hurt me more than anything you’ve done so far, and I think you know that. Betrayal cuts deep, and you can’t betray me unless I trust you.” She points to the bleeding heart plant, and it’s just so fucking ironic that its namesake encompasses exactly how I feel right now. “For all I know, that could just be another normal plant. None of this could be real.”
I refocus on the dried flowers spread across the soil, searching for the right words. Except the more I try, the more insufficient they feel.
I replay everything I’ve put her through—every cruel insult and merciless vow—and reach only one conclusion.
I wanted to be her demise, but instead, I’ve become my own.
Because now, I’m in love with her, and there isn’t a goddamn thingI’ve done to earn hers in return.
“What if I’m not?” I ask finally. “What if I’m telling you the truth about the box, and this is real? What if bringing you here and showing you how to destroy me is the only way I know to give you your power back?” I look at her, ensuring she can see the gravity in my stare. “Do you want to rip those flowers out of the ground to test it? Do you want to see me break first? Because if that’s what you need, then you better fucking put me back together again when you’re done, darling, because only you know the layout of my soul.”
Lips parting, she studies every inch of my face. After a moment, her scrunches her brow. I’m not sure what she found, but it doesn’t seem to be what she expected.
She turns her focus to the bleeding heart plant, her eyes tracing over the wilted petals before traveling up to the picture of my mom’s smiling face.
My heart pounds, and my muscles stiffen with tension, expecting her to bend down and start ripping the plant from the earth at any moment, clawing out the stems until the roots snap free and it’s as lifeless as the woman inside it.
But silence ticks by, and then she quietly says, “I don’t need to test you, Dread. I just need to wait. But that doesn’t mean I have to let you in while I do.”
I tighten my lips into a firm line. I’m not surprised she spared me. Even when I’ve given her every reason to be, she’s never been needlessly cruel.
“If you prove me right, not only will I uphold my promise, but I will completely disappear from your life, and you will never see me again.” She tips her head to the side. “Maybe you’d want that, but it’s the one thing I’d be happy to give you.”
I bite the inside of my cheek before I can allow a smile to form. I have zero intention of giving her a reason to leave me, but it’s cute she thinks she’d even make it a fucking foot.
If she runs, it’s only because she wants me to catch her.
“Fair enough,” I respond casually, electing to keep my mouth shut for now, lest it start another fight and I’m forced to chase her down.
“And what about everything I told you?” she asks, her tone more hesitant. “With Georgia.”
I blow out a breath, searching for the words to explain how I feel. Yetanother thing I never imagined myself doing.
“Some moments, I’m enraged, but not because you stayed silent. It’s because he made you,” I answer quietly. “Then, I’m enraged because, regardless of your silence, what Lionel put you through is…” I struggle to find the words to convey how fucking murderous it makes me feel. Just imagining a six-year-old Reverie scared out of her mind as she stares at one of the most horrific sightsanyhuman being could see, let alone a goddamn child…
“Fuck, Reverie, you have no idea how badly I want to fucking kill him for doing that to you.”
Red washes over my vision, and my fingers instinctively tighten around hers, her delicate bones caught in the crossfire of my wrath. When she gasps from pain, I quickly drop her hand and put a few feet of distance between us.
Teeth clenched, my fists flex with the need to wrap my hands around Lionel’s throat and squeeze with all my strength. I hunger to see his panicked eyes bulge from his head. I thirst to see the life fade from them.
Even then, it’s not enough to satiate my bloodlust. I want him to fucking suffer, too. The agony I could inflict on him is boundless—the possibilities endless. I’ve imagined hundreds of different scenarios of all the ways I could make the fucker scream.
“It’s okay,” she placates, which only brightens the red in my vision.
“It’s not okay,” I bark, spinning toward her.
My feet charge up to her before I can stop myself. I envelop her sweet face in my palms, forcing her to look up at me. I’m too lost in my rage to notice how tormented she appears, but I can feel it. I can feel her pain as strongly as I can feel my own.
“Nothing about what he put you through—whateitherof your parents put you through—is fucking okay, Reverie, and that’s why I’m finding it impossible to hate you. Because even though it kills me inside knowing things could’ve been different, your silence saved your mother’s life. My silence killed mine.”
She shakes her head, vehemently arguing, “You were a kid, Dread. You couldn’t have known it’d be the last time you saw her.”
“And you were a kid, too, Rev,” I retort.
