Page 107 of The Wicked
He drew back from me, still in my face, as he opened his eyes. “If you don’t want to know, firsthand, what I’m truly capable of, how I could ruin you and serve you your worst fears on a silver platter, you’ll walk back to that car and drive away from me.”
I swallowed, grinding my teeth together as I said, “No.”
His jaw locked. “Don’t make me kill you, Zahra.”
“You’ve tried several times before; it didn’t work.”
“Go.”
“I’m not leaving here without you,” I told him. “Everything you just said might be true, but I’ve seen you hold off from shooting and killing people just because you didn’t want to hurt the ones related to them. Maybe you’re not so far gone.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Nobody ever understands—that explosion, the chaos we caused, the people who might have died. It drove me to the edge; I was gripping that gun so tight because of how much I loved it and wanted to make sure no one survived it. Make sure I finish the job. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to like it, I don’t want to do it, because when I do, it’s thebestfeeling in this world… That’s how sick I am, Zahra. And that’s why you’re right. This world would be a much better place without me in it.”
“All right, but give me the gun.”
“If I don’t go in there and kill my father, everything you told me in that restaurant will mean nothing to me. If I leave here, go back to the compound, alive, I will be worse than I am now. Is that what you want?”
I paused, watching him with confusion. “Your… father?”
“Yes, my father.”
I blinked at him. There was no sign of a joke in his eyes. He was completely serious right now. “Your father’s dead, Elio.”
He remained quiet.
I bit the inside of my cheek, changing my approach and asking him directly without making assumptions from what I’d heard. “Is your father dead?”
“No.”
I took in a shaky breath, taking a step back. “What do you—”
“He’s alive. In this building.”
“All this time?”
“Yes.”
I watched him for a long time, my eyes flickering between his as I said quietly, “I think you need help, Elio.”
“I’m well aware.”
Something cold ran down my spine as I turned to look at the motel and then back to him. “Jesus Christ… you need serious help, Elio. Why won’t you get help?”
“Because I’m…” He trailed off, seeming confused. “… Undeserving of it…”
I swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay, w-well, nothing you say will make me leave here without you. I don’t care if you’re a sick psychopath who doesn’t wanna get help; I am not leaving unless you get in the car with me.”
Staring at me for a moment too long, he sighed, dropping his head like he was running thoughts through his mind, and then he looked back at me and outstretched the gun towards me.
I didn’t let my shock last, grabbing the weapon and letting out a breath of relief. “I know my words might mean nothing right now, but I really didn’t mean what I said, and I’m sorry. I really am.”
Without another word, he walked past me towards the direction of the car.
I sighed, watching his retreating form.
In about half an hour, we reached the compound, and Elio pulled over right in front of the quarters where I stayed with Street.
Still uneasy, I bid him good night and got out of the car; his gun was still with me, and I knew it was useless because I was pretty sure he had more guns in his possession.
