Page 12 of My Deepest Desire

The flashing blue-and-red lights cast eerie shadows on the surrounding houses as we watch as Chris struggles against the handcuffs that bind him, mumbling nonsense at the cops holding him down. The motherfucker deserves every bit of pain he gets, and more.

“Looks like you did our job for us,” Officer Lawrence says, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Can you tell me one more time what happened tonight?”

“Look, Officer, I’ve already told you everything. Chris came after Maggie. I stepped in and kicked his ass. End of story.” I want to get this shit over with so I can focus on my girl and not the idiot who should be leaving here in a body bag.

I grit my teeth, struggling to keep my composure as I glance back at the sorry excuse for a man in the back of the police cruiser. My knuckles ache from the pounding I gave him, but it was worth the bruises and split skin.

My mind races with thoughts of vengeance, the rage inside me barely contained. I know I should let the justice system do its thing, but the thought of leaving Chris alive—even behind bars—has my blood boiling. I could finish the job, make him disappearfor good. But would that be too much? Would that scare Maggie away?

“You two okay?” Officer Lawrence says, looking at us expectantly.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” I reply.

“Alright then.” He scribbles a few more details in his notepad. “We’ll be in touch with you both in the next few days.”

“Thank you, Officer,” Maggie says, her voice small but steady, still shaken by the night’s events.

I clench my fists at my sides, simmering anger coursing through me. If the cops had taken care of things, none of this would’ve happened. Then again, if they had, Maggie wouldn’t have needed me like she did tonight. And maybe that’s whatIneeded too—to be reminded of what matters most, something to light a fire inside me to tell her who I really am.

As we walk away from the scene, the silence between us feels heavy. Suffocating. I wonder what she’s thinking, if she realizes how much this night has changed everything between us. It’s time to come clean but I don’t know how she’ll react.

Will she still want anything to do with me once she knows the truth? Will she be angry? Disgusted? Terrified?

When we reach her doorstep, I’m praying that whatever happens next she’ll understand why I had to keep this secret for so long.

The moment we step inside Maggie’s house, she disappears into the bathroom to grab a first aid kit. I glance down at my bloodied-and-busted knuckles, feeling a mix of satisfaction and concern. There’s no other evidence of the one-sided beating I delivered tonight—Chris’s smaller, weaker stature was no match for my size and extensive training.

Maggie returns to the living room and tugs me over to the couch, where we sit down and she tends to my wounds. We’re both silent as she carefully cleans and bandages my hands. Untilfinally, she speaks. “What was that back there? You became someone I didn’t recognize. Someone I didn’t know.”

“I know,” I admit, my chest tightening with hesitation. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

This woman deserves the truth, as terrifying as it is to share it with her.

“Explain,” she demands. Firm but gentle.

Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself for the confession. This is it—no more secrets, no more lies. “Growing up, I always knew I was different,” I begin, my voice low and raw. “I used to listen to you and the other kids talk and laugh, and I realized I didn’t think like you guys did. As I got older, my thoughts got darker, more violent, and it scared me because I knew it wasn’t normal.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Maggie asks, pain flashing in her eyes.

“Because I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what to say.” I look away, unable to meet her gaze as I continue. “Things got worse after I moved away. I felt this constant anger inside me that I couldn’t explain or understand. I told my parents about it, but they just brushed it off as teenage hormones. I knew it was more than that, though.”

Maggie watches me intently, her gaze never leaving mine as she urges me to keep going. “So what did you do?”

“I tried to control it, to channel it into something productive,” I explain. “But it never went away. It was always there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for a chance to break free.”

Maggie’s eyes are filled with a mixture of fear, sadness, and understanding as she processes my words. She’s always been able to see through my bullshit.

“Turns out, a family friend recognized what was going on with me,” I continue, swallowing hard as I recall the memories.“He could see that I lacked empathy and remorse. That I could disassociate and compartmentalize easily.”

She lets out a nervous laugh and shakes her head. “You make it sound like you’re a serial killer or something.” Her laughter dies when she sees my stoic expression.

“I am.”

That simple confession makes the color drain from her pretty face. She backs herself into the corner of the couch. The sight of her fear cuts deep, but she needs to understand.

“I don’t kill random people, Mouse. And never women or children, no matter what they’ve done. I work by contract only. So when my parents told you I was an independent contractor, that was true, in a way.”

“Your parents... Do they know?”

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