Page 92 of The Games We Play

“Doc? Where is he? Who are you?” Puppet screams the questions. Her hand squeezes mine, and I’m thankful for it, even if I can’t tell her.

“I’m a friend.”

“X doesn’t have friends,” she hisses, and if I could smirk, I would because she’s right. I’ve made it a mission not to have friends.

The man laughs, and I want to roll my eyes as my life fades under his hands.

“Doc is his friend, and any friend of Doc’s is a friend of mine.”

I groan as pain comes to the forefront of my senses.

“You ready, Tess?” the man asks. “We’re going out through the kitchen. We have a car ready for us, and Doc isn’t far. We have to hurry, or Xane will die. Are you with me?”

I fade in and out as I’m lifted, floating through the air. I’m lost in the darkness, but this time, I’m okay because the woman I love is okay, and I told her how I felt.

I left the world a better place than I was born into, which has to count for something.

Forty-Seven - Tess

We are raised tobelieve that the monsters in our closets and under our beds are make-believe and part of our imagination. But what if they’re simply reflections of our innermost thoughts and tendencies? The good part of our heart wars with the darkest desires, our moral compass spinning wildly until we decide what kind of person we are going to be.

Some of us choose to embrace the monsters and let them guide us, while others prefer the light and fight the monsters with prayers and nightlights as we fall asleep. I think there is another type of person who acknowledges their existence but sits in the balance of the light and the dark—never succumbing to either side and using the one that benefits them most—choosing the side, they need at the moment to survive.

I was never scared of the monsters. They became my friends and my comfort. With them, I was never alone and always had someone to confide in when things got bad.

When I killed my mother, they helped me. They held me as the new feeling of the darkness leached from my heart and spread through my veins. As time passed, Dad medicated me, and I left my monsters locked away in the depths of my mind. I wasn’t light; I was simply nothing. Barely existing.

I always found comfort in the darkness, in the shadows of the night. They embraced me without judgment and kept me safe. They’re where I found X.

He came along and reminded me of the friends I’d left behind in life. He gave me passion, and we played games. My monsters came back, and we became something incredible. I no longer felt lost or alone.

They had come back, and I had X.

Our darkest parts yearned for each other and formed a bond not even death could break. It tried. Twice now, I’ve nearly lost him, but I’m convinced our connection, our inner beasts, kept him here with me.

But even as we are both filled with darkness, I see the light in his eyes when he smiles at me from across our yard. It’s in his laughter as I spread cookie batter across his cheek, and he nuzzles my neck and then licks the batter from my skin. The light is in his touch as his fingers caress my skin and are careful to tend to every part of me. It’s in how he is attentive to my every need and isn’t scared to stand up to me when I’m being ridiculous.

X is both light and dark. He found a way to survive in the balance, and he’s mine.

I watch his relaxed features as he sleeps, the sun peeking in through our window, casting slivers of sunlight across his thick lashes. His body bears the scars and reminders of our close calls. Because of them, we never take a moment for granted. We’re freelance killers, and with that comesdanger at every corner. We live for the thrill of finishing a life, stopping a timeline from existing so it can never intercept or end another one.

We live by our own rules and hunts, not taking orders from anyone, and we never will.

That way of life died with Darius and Nadia.

We’re free.

X’s eyes flutter, and he moans in his half-awake state. ThePon his chest rises as he inhales deeply before falling again. “You’re watching me sleep again,” he murmurs, his voice rough and gravely.

“So,” I say with a smile spreading across my face.

“What time is it?” he groans as he rolls over, gathering me in his arm and sliding me against his chest.

“A little after eight. Last night was exhausting, huh?” I trace the letter on his chest with my finger and press my lips to the jagged curve.

“As a wedding night should be.” X squeezes me tightly and kisses his lips to my forehead.

“And what about the morning after?” I bite my bottom lip to suppress the girl-like squeal that wants to bubble out of me.

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