Page 101 of Deviant

My eyes bore into her flesh, my nails dig into my palms and I stare like a madman, willing her to come back, willing her to listen, to obey, to prove this one final time that I can command her to do anything, that even the very doors of death do not have the same hold over her soul as I do.

My legs feel like they give out, I sink to my knees, staring on, and, just as that machine starts beeping in an entirely different manner, my brother puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I told you,” he says in that taunting, smug tone. “I fucking knew it. You love her, don’t you? You love that whore.”

I can’t utter a word. I can’t even deny it. Every word he’s said is true.

And it’s obvious what I have to do now. What my path forward is. I’d be a fool to do otherwise.

She wakes slowly. Her eyes flutter open.

I let her get her bearings, giving her a little space even though I’m desperate to just reach over and touch her and prove that she’s actually alive. As our eyes connect, I expect to see that old fear there, that old Liliana, but there’s nothing there but those soft, trusting eyes looking back at me.

I get up, leaving the cramped chair I’ve occupied for far too long and as I sit on the bed, she shifts just enough to allow me more space.

Her hair is starting to get long enough that she can almost style it. The red glow of it makes her look almost angelic in the eveninglight.

For a moment, we just stare at one another, with so many unspoken words, so much pain, and hate too, that’s twisted into something undefinable. Something inconceivable.

I love her.

Part of me wants to confess it, to tell her the truth, but would she see me the same if she knew? Or would she reject me just like my wife did? Would she turn her face up in horror at the very notion of me actually having feelings?

I’ve never been a man who cares about taking risks, who plays it safe. I’ll happily kick the damned hornet’s nest for a bit of fun, but right now I feel like I’m the one on trial. That my very future is on the line.

But Liliana and I have never truly conversed, never needed to. The few words we’ve exchanged were always in anger, in the midst of a battle. And in truth, always with me being the one in the position of strength.

It’s unnerving to realise that right now, it’s not me but her who’s suddenly in control. Who holds all the power.

I take her hand, placing the small pistol into it.

She frowns, looking from the weapon, to my face, and then back again.

“What…?”

“You have a choice, Liliana.” I state cutting across her words. “It’s the only mercy I can give you. I’ll grant you a quick death, a painless one. Here and now. Or, you can choose me, you can choose to continue what we have. To become my wife and live on.”

She blinks as her entire body trembles. “Your, your wife?” she whispers.

“It’s the only way.” I state. “You either die now or marry me.”

I don’t add what I want. I don’t state that I want her to live, to choose me, to be by my side. I want her to make that decision by herself. I want her to choose me on her own accord this one final time.

But what are the chances? What is the likelihood? What kind of person would choose to marry their kidnapper and rapist?

The air seems to tense. Milliseconds feel like a damned eternity.

In silence, she slides the gun from her palm onto the duvet like she’s repulsed by it, then fixes her gaze back on me.

“I know what happened to your last wife,” she says quietly. “You murdered her, on your wedding night.”

“I promise you now that you will not meet the same fate.”

“No?” she whispers. “But what if I disobey you? What if I did something you didn’t like? Would you beat me? Hurt me? Rape me again?”

I grit my teeth, clench my jaw, trying my best not to lash out the way I would normally do. For the first time in my life, I want something, not through force, or intimidation, or fear. Besides, is this not exactly the reasons why I want her, because she won’t back down, because she won’t just give in and do whatever I want with no thoughts in her own head?

“I won’t pretend I will change.” I state. “I am not a good man, I have never wanted to be. But I will not hurt you any more than I have.”

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