“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” I snarl. “You betrayed me. I don’t care what you planned to do. You shouldn’t have been doing it, to begin with. Now, shut your fucking mouth before I find a better job for it besides talking.”
Her eyes are filled with fear and disappointment. I’m just not sure if it’s herself or me she is disappointed in.
I release her hair, grab hold of her arm once more, and continue our walk down to the basement. The basement temperature is about ten degrees lower than upstairs and will make for a very uncomfortable situation.
She’ll remain alive, but she’ll be exhausted and cold by the time her punishment is done.
Opening the cell door, I shove her inside and release her arm. She stumbles backward on unsteady feet, catching herself before she can fall. I grit my teeth and clench my fist, digging my nails into my palm to stop myself from reaching out to steady her.
I shouldn’t want to help her.
Shouldn’t want to protect her. She broke my trust; she did this to herself, yet I still want to help her. No. I won’t be made a fool of.
“Welcome to your new home,” I sneer.
“Please, Markus.” She peers up at me, her eyelashes fan against her cheeks, and I can barely make out her features in the darkness.
However, what I can see makes me sick to my stomach. I swallow down the protectiveness that starts to build up at the fear and anxiety overtaking her features. I’m showing her exactly who I’ve been all along. The only difference is she’s seeing me for that person for the first time tonight.
No. No! She will not control the situation. She will pay for breaking my trust.
“Shut your mouth,” I roar.
She flinches as if my words have physically smacked her, and I need to get away. Leave this room before I do something I can’t take back, or worse, before I take her into my arms and run back up the stairs.
Turning on my heels, I walk toward the door. I’ve made it all of two feet before she starts to sob. The sound makes my ears ring. She’s openly crying, allowing me to see how weak she is. Does she not realize how stupid that is?
“Please, turn the light on!” She lets out a strangled sob.
The fear in her voice reaches out and grabs me by the balls. Fuck. I look at the light switch, stare at it, and then another sob fills the room.
“Please, Markus! Please, don’t leave me in the dark. I’ll do anything.” I hear tiny feet shuffling over the floor and twist around to see that she is now a few feet away.
She risks getting close to me when she knows how angry I am with her? Does she have a death wish? The way she is looking at me right now. It makes me want to reach out and take her into my arms. Don’t. She deserves this. I remind myself.
“Don’t do this to me, please. I can’t handle the dark.”
Her pleads hit me right in the chest, and I can’t ignore them. I flick the light switch on and walk out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me. I lock it and stomp up the steps angrily. Even though I can no longer hear her cries, I know she is crying. Her heart-shaped face stricken with fear and the tears in her eyes…
Stop! I force myself to stop thinking about her and walk to the alcohol cabinet in the living room. I don’t bother grabbing a glass and instead grab the bottle. It won’t be a glass night tonight. Twisting the cap off, I bring the bottle to my lips and take a long pull from it.
The whiskey burns all the way down my throat, leaving a path of fiery hell in its wake. I take the bottle and myself over to the couch and sag down on it. I take another drink, and another, wondering if I’ll have to drink this whole thing before I can stop thinking about her.
I don’t know why I’m so angry over her breaking my trust. I should’ve expected it, but I was stupid. I stupidly wanted her to stand by me, to be loyal because she wanted to be, that she maybe wanted whatever was taking place between us. I wanted her to want me. In the end, all it did was make me look like a fool. I won’t be as stupid next time. I won’t fall for her lies.
Shaking my head, I take another drink. My throat is numb, and my insides are warm now. The world around me is swimming, and I wonder how much time has passed. Then I hear it—the ringing of my cell phone from upstairs.
Like a newborn calf, I push off the couch on unsteady legs and nearly eat the floor a few times. I almost chuckle to myself as I walk upstairs with the bottle in my hand. By the time I reach my phone, it’s no longer ringing.