Page 78 of His Captive

“Why are you doing this?” She looks back at the checks on my desk.

“Sometimes a good man gets driven to do bad things, and sometimes a bad man can be inspired to do good. I’ll leave it to you to figure out which one of those men I am, Lysetta.”

I stand up and pull on my suit jacket, unable to look at her a moment longer. I’m on the verge of changing my mind and taking the choice away from her.

“Ethan, where are you going?” She looks scared, like she might even cry, but her tears aren’t what I want anymore. It’s her heart I desire. And, if I’m being honest with myself, after all that’s happened between us I don’t deserve for her to give it to me.

“I can't be here when you decide to leave because I’ll try and stop you,” I tell her honestly.

“Please don’t go, Ethan.” She grabs at my wrist with both her hands “Stay, please.”

Her grip remains still when I lift both my arms and took her face in my hands, her lips tremble. Mine sting to reach forward and touch them. But then, I’d belong to her and as long as I was living she’d never be free of me. She deserves more than that. More than a monster.

“You’ll be able to think better without me here. I won’t be back until later. The front door has always been unlocked, you’re free. Buddy will take you wherever you want to go.”

I bring two of my fingers to my lips, kiss them and then touched them softly to hers.

“Goodbye, Lysetta,” I tell her, finally letting her go before I walk out of my office. I ignore the sound of my name echoing around the hall as she calls me back. Leaving through the front door to get inside my car, I speed away before I turn around, go back inside and make sure she stays forever.

I drive miles out of town, on roads where I have no idea end up. Then, when I see the space around me is clear for miles, I pull over.

No houses

No people.

Just fields.

I get out of the car, slam the door, and kick the shit out of my front tire in frustration. Then I tip back my head and let out a roar that comes straight from my guts and rips my throat raw on the way through.

I hope that wherever Millie-fucking-Montgomery is she can hear me, that she’s proud of what she’s made me become.

Maybe it’s enough for her now, to see that even in fucking death she still tortures me. I don’t care about ruining my suit as I sit on the verge at the side of the road and watch the sun disappear, wondering how far away Lysetta has gotten from me.

Hopefully, far enough that I can get on with living my purposeless life.

Then it strikes me, even out here in the open air, that claustrophobic feeling that even revenge can’t replace this time.

My war with Sorrento is officially over. He’s won. And I am ruined…

I pick myself up when lights from a truck light up the space around me. A woman stops to ask if she can help me. Apparently, I’m on a private road.

I feed her some bullshit about being lost, ignoring the way she eyes me suspiciously as I get back in my car then drive home. The journey seems so much shorter on the way back. Probably because I’m dreading getting home.

When I open the front door, I dare to hope that she might still be here, even when I’m greeted with silence.

I run up the stairs to her bedroom, it’s empty. Desperation builds inside me as I call out her name. I check my room, then the bathroom. Glance inside my office, the kitchen. The conservatory.

Nothing.

She’s gone. Deep down I knew she would leave once given the choice, but it doesn’t stop the dull blow of agony from punching me in the stomach.

There’s no sign of Buddy either. He’s obviously taken her somewhere, and will no doubt be dealing with his own sadness when he gets back. I know how much he’d taken to her.

I head back to my office, fumbling around in the dark until I find a bottle of something to wipe her out my head and send me to sleep. The bottle is full and I drink straight from it as I make my way through the hall. Pulling down all the fancy shit decorating the walls as I pass. Expensive art, a fucking tapestry. Why the fuck had I brought this shit. I trash the library, pulling books off the shelves and tipping over furniture in my rage.

I drink until the bottle in my hand is empty and then toss that at the wall too. The door frame smashes against my shoulders as I stagger back through to the hall and into the kitchen. Pulling another bottle out from the cupboard and taking it with me as I stumble up the stairs. I find myself in her room, landing in a heap on to her bed, clutching her sheets in my hands, gripping hold of them tight like I should have her. Surely doing the right thing wasn’t supposed to feel so painful. My whole body aches, heavy with emptiness, and every one of my bones feel fractured.

Last night when I’d fallen asleep holding her in my arms it had been so different, I hadn’t dreamt of my past. I’d hoped for a future.

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