Page 87 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
I know this. I know that it was my father who poisoned my mind, poisoned my soul, but I wish I had no memory of it. For just over twenty-four hours I’ve lived free. Unencumbered by anything except my love for Cassandra.
A gift I never knew I wanted.
A gift I need more than air, I realize now.
I cling to that as we walk into the office, and I go into the file room.
I’m looking for something. Something specific. I feel driven. My heart is pounding heavily. And then, I know exactly where I’m going. But it’s not to one of the files. I walk toward the back of the space and open up the cupboard. Inside is a large canvas. A new self-portrait, painted by Cassandra.
I know exactly what it is. And I have a memory of procuring it. It is sharp, and it is clear. It is also linked with that first time I ever saw her.
The memory returns to me in a rush, and I am more confident in the truth of this memory than I’ve ever been.
The deal I’ve just inked with a group of guerilla arms dealers is going to make me very rich. I don’t mind funding a revolution. The authoritarian government has it coming. I wouldn’t consider myself benevolent, not in any capacity, but I also like to believe I am somewhat principled in the lucrative world of crime. I would never traffic people, and when it comes to weapons…
There are plenty of men who have sealed their own fates with violent deeds.
If one will live by the sword, they will die by it.
My father exemplified that. I am, in many ways, certain I will too.
I feel no guilt.
I never have.
Not once in my entire life. Because my father told me that as long as I’m winning I can’t possibly be doing anything wrong.
At least, that’s the sort of thing he said when he was alive.
I pity for him that he could not win our game.
He was darkness. An all-encompassing cloud over everything he touched.
Now, I am that darkness.
My steps are decisive, and I head to my next destination. To the next deal. Whatever it might be, I don’t concern myself with it. It is nothing. Nothing makes me feel a thing. I am hollow.
I look over toward the fountain and suddenly everything stops. My footsteps, the world around me, my heart. Everything.
Then I stop. And so does the whole world.
It’s like the sun has come out from behind the clouds for the first time. I knew I was darkness before, and it never bothered me. But now it’s like the light burns, but losing it will destroy me.
I am overcome by the sudden realization that if I have to go back to the man I was a heartbeat earlier I may die.
Because of her.
There she is.
A goddess. A vision. The most glorious creature I have ever seen.
She’s smiling. Sitting on the edge of that fountain, her dress bright yellow, the sun a halo around her head. She’s laughing. The hem of her skirt rides up, and I see the glory of her thigh. But I’ve seen any number of female thighs, and more. This moment is not only about sex.
There’s something different. Something hungry. Something so intense I cannot move past it.
I don’t want to.
I didn’t know I was falling. I didn’t know I was drowning. And suddenly, there’s a lifeline. Right in front of me. Suddenly, there’s something for me to grab hold of.
