Page 281 of The Wishing Game

"This is..." I can barely form the words. My feelings are too wild. Too out of control. Too...ineffable. "This is the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me."

His lashes flutter, a satisfied smile slowly spreading across his face.

"I will be with you at every step. Remember. He cannot hurt you. ButIcan hurt him."

I slowly nod.

"Can I hurt him, too?"

"Do you want to?" He tilts his head to the side, an odd look descending on his face.

I lick my lips as I deliberate. My gaze flies to the wall. There's some movement and I hear the loud rattle of chains. I cannot see him, but I can feel his presence. And that is enough to make the decision for me.

How many times have I wished for a chance like this? For an opportunity to take back control?

I may have escaped the hacienda, but I've never been truly free, have I? His ghost has been hanging over my shoulders this entire time, poisoning my mind and polluting every moment of happiness. I may have survived those horrors, I may have moved on, but deep down in my subconscious, I know I remained the same scared little girl, abandoned by the only family she'd ever known and given to a sadistic monster to torture. Even while I enjoyed freedoms like never before, my mind was still trapped in that small, dark tunnel, with my fingers bleeding to the bone as I toiled as no child should toil.

In the end, no matter how much I'd like to pretend, I neverreallymoved on. And it was all because in that last hour, this monster dared to die before I could look him in the face one last time and tell him that he doesn't own me—that he never did. He may have broken my body, but he never broke my spirit.

"Yes. I do," I eventually say.

Ze's lips pull up in a lopsided smile. He grabs my hand, turns it palm up, and deposits an object in it. The cold of a metal against my skin hints at his gift. My eyes move lower, perusing the small dagger. An intricate purple handle accompanied by an equally purple blade. His energy is all over it, in every atom and every pore. It curls around my hand in a tight embrace, giving me strength where before I had none.

"You made this, didn't you?" I inquire even while knowing the truth.

He nods.

My lips tremble as I dare meet his gaze.

Ze. Socially inept, endearingly arrogant Ze. And yet, with all his shortcomings, with all his inexperience with emotions and social cues, he managed to give me the most wonderful gift I have ever received.

Myself.

He gave me back myself and the opportunity to claim my past.

"Thank you," I murmur, vowing to find a way to return the favor at a later time. Regardless of the fact that he is a god—a very rich god—who cannot possibly want for anything, I will repay him.

Ze watches me for a few more moments to ensure I'm all right before he moves to the side, allowing me a full view of Sergio.

He's dressed in dirty rags that cling to his skin, stained by blood and other bodily fluids. The Jì didn't just restore his past appearance, but it also converted all the spiritual suffering into bodily suffering. His hair is the same gray-white shade I last saw it, his face wrinkled and showing the signs of his age.

Even in his sixties, he'd still gotten off on tormenting people. But there's no age cutoff for evil, is there? The desire to harm and cause pain is a ubiquitous one that withstands the test of time even when the means by which one is able to inflict it are not.

He looks pitiful. Yet I've suffered too much at his hands to have even one ounce of pity for him. All I feel is revulsion. A hate so deep, it's seeped into my bones, never letting me truly be.

But no more.

This is the last time I'll allow him to influence me, just as this is the last time I'll allow myself to think of him. It's a promise I make to myself. I've been a prisoner to this grudge for far too long.

For this moment, I'll let go. But after I'm out of here, I'll never once think of him again.

Sergio blinks as he accommodates to the light, but it's not a few seconds later that his eyes widen in realization. He recognizes me.

"Tu..." he grits out. "Maldita perra," he spits at me, his words slurred.

"Ya no me puedes lastimar,Señor."

He scrunches his nose.

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