Page 402 of Eternal
DAMIR
“Sail To The Moon” by Radiohead
Present
“You haven’t said a word since we got home.”
Her hands swirl slowly through the bubbles, eyes lost somewhere in the steam rising around us. She’s quiet, too quiet. I know it’s not like that inside her. I hate seeing her like this.
Sometimes I swear I can feel my heart ripping apart trying to match hers.
“I killed so many people,” she finally says. Her voice is calm. Hollow. She’s lying between my arms, head on my chest, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve hurt and killed more than I can count.”
I wrap my arms around her tighter, instinctively.
My hand finds hers beneath the water, and I hold on.
“When I was a kid,” she continues, “I thought I’d be a rockstar. I used to dream about it. My mom loved music.She introduced me to the Sex Pistols, Nirvana, Oasis and Radiohead.”
A smile pulls at my lips. “You do have a beautiful voice. I could’ve seen that happening.”
She chuckles, soft, but empty. “I’d make up songs on the spot, random words and stupid melodies. And she’d sing her favorite poems. Before things got... complicated.” She pauses. “I loved music. Even when I wasn’t allowed to love anything.”
Her fingers move over mine now, absentminded, gentle, tangling and untangling.
“Sometimes I wonder why I kept doing this. Why didn't I run away and ask Vik to hide me here forever. Find a job. Try to be...normal. Maybe even be happy with someone. Someone who doesn’t have nightmares carved into their skin.”
“You wouldn’t have met me,” I say.
Her fingers stop moving, like she’s just now considering it. That version of her life. One where I didn’t exist. “Maybe we would’ve,” she says softly. “In some other life. We could’ve gone on real dates. You’d flirt badly, I’d pretend to hate it. We’d go to concerts. Be stupid together.”
I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.
“I like this version of you just fine. And we do go on dates, regular ones. We eat at the same damn place four times a week. We take baths every night. We talk, we laugh. I braid your hair after.”
She smiles. “That’s true. I like our dates. They’re...safe.”
She shifts, turning to lay on top of me, her chest pressed against mine. Water laps over the edge of the tub, but I don’t care. Her eyes find mine, steady now.
“They lied about the journal, Damir,” she says. “They trafficked it. They only gave me the names they wanted dead. Maybe that’s why the pastor wasn’t on the list.”
My brows pull together. My stomach tightens.
“It makes sense. Maybe that’s why they sent me to stop you, or at least pretend to. They needed you to kill the right people... and keep the trafficking hidden. It would’ve destroyed them if it got out.” Her head drops onto my chest again. She lets out a shaky breath. “I thought if I killed enough of them, I’d finally feel free. Free from everything. But I’ve never been free, have I?”
I sit up and pull her into a full embrace, arms wrapped around her tightly. Water spills out onto the floor. Doesn’t matter.
“Don’t say that,” I whisper into her ear. “You killed bad people. You saved lives, baby. So many. Don’t you see that?”
She doesn’t answer, but I feel her body sink deeper into mine. A long exhale. Maybe she does see it. Or maybe she’s simply trying.
She stays quiet, her body heavy against mine like she’s finally run out of strength. I don’t rush her. She’s always been the one who keeps it all together, even when it’s tearing her apart.
I watch her fingers float through the water again, tracing invisible shapes. She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel it, that ache behind her silence.
No one sees the girl who never learned how to ask for help, I think. They only see the one who always replies when they do.
And that’s the version the world keeps calling on.
