Page 33 of Uncrowned

I licked my lips, trying to decipher the conflicting emotions of what was right and what was wrong. This man killed my parents. He killed John. Killing was bad. But he’d done it. Because of me. For… me. And the touching. The cryptic claiming. This couldn’t be real. It didn’t seem real. There’d only been one person⁠—

I stiffened, feeling my chest rise and fall faster. It couldn’t be. Could it?

“I think I might be getting hungry after all.”

The man stopped from snuggling against my hand, and I could feel him lift.

“Is the pain coming back?”

That voice. That smooth, deep tone was so familiar. The slight accent mixing with his British one. A small cry left me.

More tears. More wetness. I wasn’t sure what to think. Blame was drowning me, and yet, something else was trying to push to the front. Some sick adoration that I couldn’t understand. Was I so messed up? So desperate and broken that I’d feel attraction or even admiration for what this murderer had done?

“No. I mean, a little. I’ll be fine.”

A sob. I couldn’t keep it in. There was something truly wrong with me.

…I like you… Maybe… we can meet?

Had I said that? Asked it? Had I truly exposed how much I loved talking to him? Even oddly fantasized about him? I waited on his calls. Depended on them. He was a stranger. Yes, we’d talked off and on for weeks, but I still didn’t know this man.

Fabric rustled and footsteps got further away.

What was I going to do? I clearly had to escape but how? Where would I go? Surely, the police had already discovered my parents. Rose would have found them. And me… gone. Would they think I killed them? My father abused me. Everyone knew it. Maybe they thought I snapped.

Another sob came, even if I tried to stay as quiet as I could.

They’d suspect me. I would if the circumstances were different. But… him. Could it really be who I thought it was? Or did I secretly wish it was so I could find some sort of comfort within this nightmare? How sick was that?

“They deserved it.”

The voice was further away, but still in the room.

“You don’t see it now, Penelope, but this isn’t your fault. Do you remember me talking about the design?”

“Yes.”

“This is part of it. At some point, life would have brought us all together. Everyone I’ve killed would have died eventually. It was in the core of who they were.”

“…I don’t understand.”

“I know. Someday you will.”

Clinking sounded. After a few moments, the footsteps came closer.

I kept my head down, listening, tracking his movements with my senses.

“I’m going to adjust these cuffs so that I can prop you up. If you fight⁠—”

“I won’t. I promise.”

There was a hesitation as a small bang sounded. Clothes and steps were registering next to me, and I kept still as the mattress shifted from him leaning against it. Tugs left my arms loosening, but an exotic spicy scent had me moving in closer. It was mouthwatering. Alluring, almost hypnotic. It was like cologne or some sort of manly body wash, and I wanted to take it deeper into my lungs. What felt like sandpaper ground into my cheek. I froze, jumping at the hand that wrapped around the back of my head. It held me in place, and I quickly realized he and I were cheek to cheek. He turned in, breathing deeply as his lips parted and he breathed out, sending warm breath against my ear.

“That should do.”

He kept me close as he slid his other arm behind my lower back, lifting the top half of my body. A mound of pillows was placed behind me, and only then did he let go and ease back.

Words. Rationality. Sense. They all left me as I stared into the darkness of my mind. I could feel myself falling. Falling down some dark abyss full of these affections.