Page 203 of Buried in Blood
I made a list the day after Harmony was released from the hospital.
Every name. Every contact. Every building. Every account.
I knew them all. Damien made sure of it. He trusted me—because he thought I was him.
He was wrong.
I never wanted power. I never wanted blood.
I just wanted purpose.
He gave me that at first. In pieces. In lies.
Now I’ve taken it back.
The rec room was next.
The stage. The lights. The collars still hanging on the wall like ornaments.
I took it all apart.
Brick by fucking brick.
I hired a crew under a fake name. Told them it was an old theater. Told them I wanted it gone.
No salvage. No resale.
Just dust.
They asked questions. I gave them answers that sounded normal.
Sometimes, I can still fake it.
But inside?
It was like ripping out bones one by one.
I left the last wall standing for a moment longer than I should have.
There were names scratched into the brick. Initials. Tally marks. A countdown I never noticed before.
I ran my fingers over the last line. It read: “He won’t break me.”
That wall took longer to fall than all the rest.
Harmony didn’t ask what I’ve been doing.
But she knows.
And she lets me come home covered in ash and silence, waiting until I’m ready to speak.
Some nights I don’t.
Others, I do.
She just listens. She holds my hand. She kisses the bruises Damien left behind.
She makes it bearable.
