Page 57 of Eternal

Soren

“Soren,youneedtodo it,” My mom whispers into my ear, “She’s trying to destroy our family. She wants to replace me. You don’t want that to happen right?”

I stare down at the trembling woman gagged and bound to a chair. Mascara is smeared all over her face, but it’s hard to tell with the frantic shaking of her head.

“You can do it, Soren. You’re old enough now. Just take the tip of the blade, and slice her neck open,” My mom murmurs, urging me to do the dirty work for her. Her jealousy reigns through, and it’s her best quality. The only real emotion she has.

I clutch the blade’s handle harder as my mom’s hand covers mine.

“You’ll earn my love if you do this for me.”

My biggest weakness. I just wanted her love. Someone’s love.

“What did she do?” I ask.

“She was sleeping with your father. She’s nothing but dirt, Soren.”

I shake my head, trying to tame that monster. “I can’t do it. I can’t. It’s not her fault,” I cry.

My mother rushes towards me, gripping my hand holding the blade, urging me towards the woman. Her muffled screams drown out all other senses. I pinch my eyes closed as I feel the tearing of her skin under the knife’s edge, and the gurgling on her own blood. My mother releases me with huffs as I collapse to the ground watching this woman slowly die in front of me.

“You were always useless.”

I jolt awake, drenched in sweat. Freya stirs for a moment, and softly whimpers in her sleep. I heave in deep breaths.It was just a dream.Just like Freya, I’m plagued by my past. That woman was the first person I killed at the age of thirteen. Staring at Freya’s sleeping figure reminds me of my future. One where I don’t have to be the monster for her. Not like I had to for my mother. I had to kill all my father’s affairs for her. But I always hated killing women. Especially now having to relive them. They remind me too much of Freya. The goodness she brings out in me.

I scooch closer to Freya, seeking the comfort of someone else's body after a dream like that.

I don’t understand how she’s gone through what she’s been through, yet stays good. She draws me back to reality, bringing me to my knees. I love her for it. I mean it. I already love Freya. I know I do. She consumes my thoughts even when I am gone. It’s just too early to tell her. I don’t know how she’d take it. Besides, my love is twisted. It hurts like a rose with thorns. I think hers is similar though. Just further proof that she was made to be mine. I brush her hair back from her face as I look at her again.

I feel horrible. I shouldn’t have done that to her. I should’ve been more gentle with her, especially since I know what she’s been through. But when she asked about using chains and whips, the darker parts of BDSM, I refuse. I would never use those on her. I knew that the moment I met her. I wouldn’t want to dredge up those memories again, especially if I enter that headspace; I become cruel. Unable to differentiate between the woman before me or a man who just raped a child. I become cruel. Sadistic, finding pleasure in their cries and screams of pain.

Freya has shown me who she is on the inside. All her ugliest parts. I love her more than I did before. I said I wanted to know her. Now I truly do. I doubt she feels the same way. Leaving her alone for all that time did more damage to our relationship than good, and I vow to never do that to her again.

She stirs for a moment as if I’d woken her while running my fingers through her hair. There’s never been a woman in my life that’s put me in my place like that, successfully, anyway. My heart shattered seeing her crying afterward, ashamed of herself for fucking me again after I’ve been the distant one. She has no need to be ashamed, especially with me. Never again do I want to make her feel like that again. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves so much more. More than I can offer. I just hope the love I can give her is enough. I don’t know how I’d react if she rejected it, rejected me.

I hold her close to me, and rest my head on the same pillow she’s using. I can’t help but bury my face in her hair, wanting to be enveloped in her. Only her.

Chapter twenty-five

Freya

ThenextmorningIwoke up to Soren gone from my side. I make my way to the kitchen when I smell bacon and something… burning? Luci hasn’t ever burnt anything, as far as I’m aware. Plus, she doesn’t arrive until the afternoon. I pull the covers back and walk down the hallway toward the smell.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

I grin, realizing it’s Soren, not Luci. I turn the corner and find Soren glaring at the bacon that is burnt and the eggs that are pretty dark looking. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a loose band t-shirt. I realize it’s the same shirt he put on me after our first-time love–not lovemaking–fucking. We barely know each other, this can’t be love.

I lean against the doorframe of the kitchen, just watching him work. It’s clear he hasn’t cooked before. He glances at me with a scowl pressed onto his face.

“I burned breakfast,” Soren mutters, throwing the pan’s contents into the trash.

I giggle and move closer to him, starting to make breakfast with him. Though, it primarily consists of him standing back and watching me work. Finally, we have breakfast whipped up and enjoy it on the kitchen island.

“So I have to run an errand today, but I’d like for us to just spend the day together,” Soren speaks up while cleaning the dishes.

I pull a knee up to my chest, sipping on coffee as his words seep through me. He wants to spend the day with me after his errand. Perhaps he is taking into consideration what I said to him. Will he change and start to be more present in our relationship?

I nod and give him a small smile, trying not to let my excitement reflect too much. He finishes the dishes as I work on my second cup of coffee. After placing the last plate in the dishwasher, he grasps my face with both hands towering over me. My eyes meet his, and they are filled with adoration and contentment. Like there’s peace in his deeply scarred soul. Soren places a kiss on my lips, kissing me hard and passionately, pouring his emotions into it. He pulls back and rests his forehead on mine; I lean into his touch, eager for more than his gentle kisses. He kisses my forehead before returning to the bedroom and getting ready to leave for his errands.

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