Page 66 of Destined for the Devil
"They were...they were strangled, but they died a quick death, Isla. They didn't suffer, I swear.” The words rushed out of me, her eyes widening at what she’d heard. “The goal was just to eliminate them, not torture them." I heard myself and hated it. I sounded like I was explaining a business transaction to a child.
At that, she let out a sound I’d never forget—a loud, aching wail, filled to the brim with pain and grief. She collapsed on her knees and began sobbing in earnest now, pulling at her hair, her world tumbling into chaos.
“No, no, no, no,” she chanted without pause, her cries echoing in the room. She was falling apart in front of me, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find a solution.
There was none.
This was me five years ago when I found out about the death of my sister. In one second, it all shattered, and I never fully recovered.
I moved closer, getting on my knees beside her, careful to maintain distance so she wouldn't feel threatened and back away. I couldn’t just leave her there abandoned.
Isla slumped down on the floor and curled onto her side, her little white dress riding up high enough to expose the scars on her thighs. She sobbed, her face flushed and streaked with tears. Tears that I had caused. How many tears had she shed because of me?
I cried too. I sat beside her, wiping my tears, fully understanding thatthis…this was irreparable. In a minute, inoneminute, everything between us changed. Forever.
"You...killed...my parents,” she whispered slowly, like she needed time to understand the words. She lay on the floor and tried to catch her breath, staring right past me.
"Isla..." I began, not sure what to say. That I was sorry? That word didn't even begin to express my remorse. "I–I don't know what to say. This isn’t even a nightmare situation. I wish—”
"Let's go." Her voice cut through my words like a whip, and she suddenly sat up. "Let's go. I'll grab my keys and some of my things, and then take me home. Tomyhome."
No. No way was I letting her go.
"No," I said firmly. "No, Isla, you’re not going anywhere. You can’t live on your own; it’s too dangerous.” But in response, she threw her head back, breaking out in bitter laughter.
"Gofuckyourself!” she shouted, a new wave of tears overpowering her. “You don’t get to tell me anything anymore!”
Jesus Christ. I would have gladly been cut to pieces instead of enduring her hate. “I never want to see you or anything here again. I'm going to leave! Tomorrow. I'm going back to New York. Fuck absolutely everything!” She jumped to her feet and headed for the door. "Let's go!" Violently, she swung the office door open and stormed out, leaving hersorrow and anger behind.
My soul threatening to burst out of me, I climbed to my feet and followed her, joining her at the elevator which she couldn't take without my key. She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, the devastation of our news settling between us like a curse.
In silence, we made it back home, and without throwing me a glance, she opened the door to her side of the closet and looked over her things. She tugged a few pieces off their hangers and shoved them into her travel bag, purposely leaving everything I’d bought her.
I leaned against the doorway, waiting for her to calm down.
I wouldn’t let her leave. I would fight her, I would tie her up, but I wouldn't let her leave.
"Isla, stop packing.” I spoke loudly, making sure she heard me, but she acted as if I wasn’t there. "Don't ignore me. I'm serious. I'm not letting you go anywhere."
"Shut the fuck up, Roman. Who the fuck are you to tell me anything? You're a fuckingmurderer!" She spun to face me, tears bursting out of her eyes once more. She yanked open a drawer and pulled out a few bras and other lingerie, stuffing them into her bag.
"Isla, please. I had no idea that was your dad." I also had no idea how to uphold this nightmare of a conversation.
"Oh, I'm sure you fucking didn't! But that doesn't even matter!” She zipped up the bag and threw it on our bed. “It doesn't matter whose parents they were! Us getting together was just a fucking freak accident, a very strange and weird coincidence! The fact is you killed two innocent people! You took their lives! And you ruined mine!"
She was shaking, unable to catch her breath. I could barely recognize her. All her pain and sorrow reflected in her eyes, and her angelic face contorted with such devastation. "Who are you, the fucking devil?! Who does that?! Who just fucking kills people like that?! Why aren't you inprison?!”
"Stop!" I shouted back, but that brought on more of her tears. "Isla, stop." I calmed myself down and took urgent strides toward her. Shuddering with grief, she tried to pull back when I took her hands into mine. "Isla. I'm sorry. I'm so, so,so sorrythat your parents' death was my cause.” I stepped closer, pulling her in. “But the love we have...can't be broken by anything, Isla. You can't leave, and I won'tlet you leave,"I implored her, but she couldn’t look at me.
"H-had,” she choked out, unable to rip her hands out of my grasp. "We no longer have anything. Whether you let me or don't let me...I'm leaving.” She finally gave up, like she lost all her strength. “I’m leaving you. LA. Everything."
No.No.
I pulled her in, wrapping my arms around her perfect body, holding her as she descended into more tears, her sobs muffled against my chest. She stayed there, not reciprocating the hug, but unable to hold herself up. My heart hammered inside me as I waited for her breathing to even out and my mind to calm down.
We just had to talk about it.
"Angel…” I prayed, holding her tight, afraid she would slip away. “I'm not letting you go. I've done awful and bad things in my life. I can’t deny it. I’m so sorry I inflicted pain on your family, but it's not because I'm a serial killer and get pleasure from it."
