Win.
Ihad been filled with hope as I walked next door, anticipating her appreciation for the flowers I had filled her apartment with. After I had smelled Luke on her at the hotel, all I could think of was erasing his stench. What better way to do so than with her roses?
She has always loved flowers, and I thought rather than a single bouquet, I would fill her apartment in an epic display. I imagined how much she would love them. How much this would prove to her I loved her.
Instead, Luke’s presence has ruined everything, as it was in the beginning, is now, and as it ever shall be. Destruction and ruin surround him like a miasma. The blast radius of his evil ripples through the very fabric of time and space.
He marked her door like he was pissing on his territory, as if it wasn’t bad enough that he had already left his evil, inky black stain on her back. Fucking fucker. I am not sure what his endgame is, or if I will be able to bargain with him as I had planned as a contingency.
I desperately want nothing to do with him. However, I will stop at nothing to save her, save us, in this lifetime. I will give everything for her, for us, even if that means a bargain with that demon.
But thinking of what he has already taken from us leaves me seething with hatred. There are no words to describe the rage that pushes out into every last corner of my being. Each beat of my dead heart resonates with a burning fury until relentless anger threatens to devour me.
I feel the air around me crackle, reflecting the depths of my malevolence. MyRozahas no idea. None! She is oxygen, and she is playing with fire. He will consume her where I would only complete her. Complete us.
I need to find the courage to tell her the truth and figure out a way to bring her back into my life. I thought by building her confidence in herself I could help her be stronger, more equipped to hear the hard truths I need to share with her.
But my work in showing her the beauty I have always seen in her is so close to being undermined byhim. I thought she would love the roses and, foolishly, thought perhaps she may even remember them.
I thought I could surround her with their beauty like she surrounds me with hers. There is just never an easy way, a bulletproof way to tell her. All this time, I’ve yet to find anything that consistently works to convince her of our story.
I don’t understand this world, this society. The rules keep changing, and I try to grow with it, try to update myself, but it feels impossible after so long. I have been so many people, lived so many lifetimes, I barely know who I am anymore.
All I know, from the foundation of my being, all that is left that I have unshakable faith in, is that she is mine. From me. For me. And I am hers. This I know as the most basic and unbreakable tenet of my soul.
Maybe I don’t completely understand her. Women are different today. She is different. She carries a deep beauty and strength despite her fragility. Yet even if I don’t understand her, Iknowher. I have always known her, seen her.
This lifetime is as different as she is. Or at least, that is what I tell myself. Because this timemustbe different. But everything is falling apart now.
I have failed her, failed us, time and time again. I cannot fail again. I cannot survive one more lifetime without her. My God has abandoned me. MyRozais abandoning me. I cannot let that asshole have her.
He will destroy her. Destroy us. Destroy any chance we have of happiness.
I storm down the alley, leaving my heart behind with them. There in the shadows, I fall against the wall, sliding down to sit dejectedly. Red pulses in my mind, floods my thoughts, until red is all I can think of.
Hearing her door open and close again has me racing around from the alley to my front door. I cannot see him, allow him to see me in this wrecked state.
Too late.
As I reach to open my door, I can sensehim. I leave the door closed and spin to face evil, leaning my shoulder against the door, striving to appear nonchalant as he makes his way toward me. Despite the rage coursing through my veins, urging me to swift and severe violence against my oldest enemy, I school my face to cool detachment.
We lock eyes and I clench my jaw, my only visible sign of anger, while his mouth tips up in a smug smirk. He stands at the corner and I’m thankful he doesn’t come any closer. I know I cannot defeat him, but I also don’t know if that knowledge alone is enough to stop me right now with the state I am in.
The sight of him evokes so many vicious memories. After all, he is the very reason for our predicament. His silver tongue ruins all that is good and precious. His lies are the destroyer of man.
He stands at the corner of the road and the alley, surveying me with his reptilian stare, then hisses at me like the snake he is and disappears with a wink. Those yellow-green eyes forever haunt my every waking moment.
Exhausted, I let myself into my newly renovated house and head toward the basement doors. I scan my finger on the discrete biometric lock and head down the stairs. Walking through the finished basement to the bookshelf, I pull a volume to activate the locking mechanism, stepping back to allow it to swing open.
At the hidden door, I scan my fingerprint again and enter a complex numerical code. The final security door swings noiselessly inward. The false wall of the finished basement hides my secret resting place. I close the door and hear the locks engage. Nothing can reach me now except memories.
Despite the modern security measures, this impenetrable room is sparse. Glass blocks filled with dirt dredged from the places of my past make up the floor. Every spot myRozahas fallen, from the first to the last, I have taken a handful. Most I leave at my one permanent residence; some I bring with me to new construction like this.
A minute amount, I add to the extensive scarification on my back. I have lost too much to the ravages of time. Marking memories into my body is the only way to truly ensure their survival.
My mind drifts back through the years of body modifications. Although immune to sickness and death, I am not immune to pain. I welcome the modern trappings of modification, so quick and easy now compared to some of my earlier work.
Faint memories of flickering firelight and intense pain deep in the heart of a forgotten jungle tickle the edges of my mind. I close my eyes and can almost hear the cacophony of night animals and insects behind the people chanting and feel the fire on my skin.
