Page 32 of Shadows of the Past
I’m screaming so hard my throat feels scorched, but it’s the only power I have left. His hands dig into my flesh, his breath hot against my ear, and every brutal thrust feels like he’s stealing a piece of my soul. I pray my mind will eventually block out everything that happened with Martin that night, but moments like this remind me that part of me is still trapped there, reliving every agonizing second.
Then I feel a touch. It’s gentle, foreign compared to the aggression earlier. And in that moment, a whisper slips into my subconscious.
“Julia, I’m here.”
That voice, that voice that seems to tame my demons with its quiet authority, makes me open my eyes, and I collide with the color I seem to love most these days.
“Breathe. You’re safe.”
It’s barely a whisper, and then I notice our fingers intertwined.
I don’t ask why he felt the need to do this, this gesture that’s far too intimate for someone who told me earlier that it’s not my business knowing where he was.
When I look at his face, I notice fresh scratches and I feel like I might die of shame because it’s obvious I caused them.
“I’m so sorry, I had a nightmare. I’ll sleep on the floor tonight,” I manage to murmur, embarrassed.
The weight of his stare draws my gaze to his, and I swear there's fury in his eyes.
Great. You’ve successfully pissed off the only person keeping you alive in this place, Julia.
"You’re sleeping right here, next to me."
"You’re bleeding because of what I did to you."
For a moment, I think he might relent, let me sleep on the floor so I can be sure I won’t hurt him again tonight.
"Do you honestly believe a few scratches will keep me away from you when I see you screaming and fighting your own nightmares?"
Please, stop saying things like that.
"Julia."
My name on his lips is barely a whisper, and I don’t want to hear it, not now, not when my heart is racing far too fast for someone who doesn’t seem capable of feeling the same.
It’s the trauma, Julia. It’s just the trauma.
"Tell me a secret," I say, my voice calm as I lean my head back against the pillow.
Our hands are still intertwined, and while I wish I had the strength to pull mine away, I can’t. I don’t want to.
Several moments pass, long enough for me to think he hasn’t heard me, but then his voice breaks the silence.
"I have a twin brother."
Shock must be written all over my face.A twin brother? How? Where?
"When I was born, I had a heart defect. My parents didn’t want a weakness like that in the family, so they gave me up for adoption. On one of my missions in the States, I saw a photo in the newspaper. Imagine my shock seeing a version of myself in a suit, looking like he was about to pass the bar exam, while I stood there in ripped jeans and boots."
His tone is light, almost detached, but I can hear something else beneath it…pain, curiosity, maybe even a hint of longing.
"Did you ever contact him?"
He shakes his head, and the way his body stiffens tells me to drop it.
I squeeze his hand gently, not wanting him to stop. In these rare moments, the cold mask slips away and I catch a glimpse of who Maksim truly is, revealed in that fleeting light in his eyes.
"Tell me another secret," I whisper, knowing I’m asking too much from someone who can’t decide whether to push me away or pull me closer.
