This is so much worse for me than the first time I took her. This is horrible. This isn’t fun at all.
What if I took it too far?
No, I didn’t take it too far. I took it exactly as far as I had to take it. I needed her to hate me. I needed it fresh. Given a week, I can turn it back around, I know I can. I just have to make this feeling last until Monday. If she feels like this when my guys talk to her… well, that’s not a fun thought, but it is what needs to happen. I need her to feel exactly like this. I need her to tell me I’m going to burn in Hell, that I’m a bastard, that she hates me. She literally wanted my blood; she scratched the fuck out of my neck.
Monday she will press her soft lips against those scratches she made and apologize. Once she knows I didn’t do the one thing that apparently will make her hate me.
It doesn’t make it any easier right now though. She wears herself out sobbing and cursing at me. I don’t make her kiss me this time. I’d like this to be a clear-cut as possible. I’d like this to be the memory she thinks of on Monday when they ask her if she knows anything that could lead to the arrest of Mateo Morelli.
She’s worn out by the time I finish. The anger and pain she needed to vent seem to have run their course, but now she just looks… heartbroken.
I need to step outside for a breather, but I don’t deserve one, so I don’t.
I pull out of her body and roll over to my side of the body. I try hard not to take to heart all the “I hate yous” she lobbed my way.
She’s silent now, but as soon as I move off of her, she rolls away from me and curls up in a ball. She yanks the blankets up around her like they can protect her from me.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this low. Has there ever been a time? I can’t think of one. Maybe when I killed Beth. When I cradled her limp body in my arms and looked down at the destruction I had wrought.
This wasn’t worth it. I shouldn’t have done this. I should’ve found another way. I shouldn’t have listened to Dante. He was right, but I shouldn’t have listened anyway.
This life is fucking expensive.
Look what it costs to maintain.
Everything. It costs everything.
Ironically, I feel like I need Mia right now, and I can’t have her. She’s right here in this room with me, and the loneliness is coming back, but she’s not going to chase it away.
One more day.
We only have to get through one more day. I’ll give her anything she wants, I’ll do anything to make it all up to her. I just have to know I can trust her first. Even when I’ve hurt her, I need to know she’ll remain loyal. I’m sure I’ll hurt her again in time. Not like this—this is terrible, I never want to experience this again—but in some way.
All I’ve done weighs me down as I strip off my clothes. Mia still hasn’t moved. I want to shower the stench of this evening off me, but I’m a little afraid to leave her in here alone. I don’t feel great about it, but I text Adrian and tell him I need him to come keep an eye on her. It’s bad enough I fucked her smelling of some nameless sex worker, but I’m not going to curl up and go to sleep with the scent still on me.
He comes inside the bedroom, per my directions. Mia glares at me wordlessly, like I’m doing this purely to humiliate her. She pulls the blanket more snugly around her neck and closes her eyes, like that can block us out.
Adrian wants to kill me. His fists clench at his sides as I explain that I just need him to watch her while I shower. He doesn’t speak, just nods curtly and stands by the door.
What an awful fucking night.
I know I made it awful, but still.
It gets a little worse, just a little worse, because Mia, my pure as the driven snow Mia, unburdened by vengeance, asks Adrian loudly enough for me to hear, “How is Vince doing?”
My spine stiffens. My own hands clench with rage. I look back at her over my shoulder, but she’s looking at Adrian, not me.
Rage moves through me and I slam the bathroom door shut. I shouldn’t do that. That’s why she did it. She can’t revenge fuck someone else, but she can ask Adrian about Vince so I have to hear it.