Page 25 of Penance

“But I can see something’s wrong. You can talk to me, you know. I’m not the monster everyone thinks I am.”

Part of me wants to believe him, desperate to be heard. But another part, the part that still thinks clearly, knows better. I can’t trust him. I can’t trust anyone. Not with this.

“I… I can’t,” I stammer. “I just can’t, Draco. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, a casual lift of his broad shoulders, and takes a step back. The space he puts between us is a breath of fresh air, a moment of clarity, and I feel like something has been lifted off of me.

I can breathe again, even if it’s strained and tight.

“Fair enough,” he says, his tone light, almost flippant. “I tried. But remember, Mercy, I’m here if you need me. We all need someone to talk to sometimes. Someone who understands.”

I feel something swell in my chest, a mix of fear and something else—something dangerously close to hope.

No.

I couldn’t.

“And if anyone gets it, it’s me.”

That hurt.

I didn’t want to remember that.

“Thank you,” I whisper, as if anything louder might shatter the fragile illusion of his kindness. My hands clutch the door frame, knuckles white, as I struggle to reconcile the monster I know he is with the lifeline he’s thrown me.

He turns to leave, his shoulders rolling with a casual, nonchalant shrug. The pentagram tattoo on the back of his hand seems to wink at me, a mocking reminder of what he really is.

I can’t trust him.

The door clicks shut, the sound echoing through my apartment like a gunshot. I stand there, frozen, my heart pumping in my chest.

Why would he offer to help me?

The question nags at the back of my mind, a persistent itch I can’t scratch. Is this just one of his games? A trap?

But what if it’s not?

What if he really wants to save me?

I press my forehead against the cool wood of the door, my eyes fluttering closed. My mind races, a whirlwind of thoughts and fears that twist and turn. I want to believe him, to grab onto that lifeline with both hands and hold on tight. But I can’t silence the warning bells clanging in my head, the echoes of scripture that caution against the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

The serpent may offer knowledge, but at what cost? The fall of man was not just a tale from the pulpit, but a stark reminder of the consequences of trusting the wrong entity.

And Draco is as close to a serpent as I’ve ever seen.

Yet, here I am, considering his offer.

Because despite everything, despite the fear and the doubt and the warnings screeching in my head, there’s a part of me that wonders… what if?

Chapter 6

Draco

In the shadows beneath a sleeping oak tree, I’m watching.

She glides down the sidewalk like a ghost, a ghost of who she used to be. The sunlight catches the chestnut waves of her hair, tied in a modest braid, swaying with every step she takes.

I wanna put my fingers through that hair.

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