Fable of Happiness (Fable 1)

Don’t push me, girl.

You won’t like what’ll happen if you do.

Locking down the blackness threatening to burst through my heart, I stayed immobile and unmoved. I didn’t flinch when she struck. I didn’t retaliate when she hurt.

I let her use up valuable energy. To drain her so there was nothing left but obedience.

Only once her fury switched to raging tears and her hits lost their ferocity did I let go of my tightly reined self-control.

If I killed her, I would do it on my terms. Not because she’d driven me to it.

“Are you done?” I grabbed her by the throat and marched her into the wall. “My turn.”

Her spine hit with a thud. Her skull followed with a clunk. Her hands wrapped around my wrist while her face shone with despair. She acknowledged I was stronger, bigger, badder. Whatever violence she’d thrown my way, I could return tenfold. Whatever curses or threats she thought she could deliver, I would grant far worse consequences.

She didn’t speak as I held her captive.

Her pulse hammered against my fingers, out of control with grief and loathing.

Silence once again throbbed between us as I shoved her harder against the wall. With our eyes locked and that unbearable tension coiling from my chest to hers, I raised my fist and threw the device she’d fought so hard to protect on the floor.

It didn’t shatter like the last one.

The glass smashed and it went scattering into a puddle, but it might still be useable. Might still have some way of summoning people to find her. Those people would take away what was mine. They’d come for her and for me.

That can never happen.

My fingers twitched around her neck, squeezing the very same column of muscle that I’d bruised when we first met.

She winced. Endless hatred flashed in her stare. Her lips parted for breath, but she didn’t beg or plead. She just dug her nails into my forearm and waited. Waited for me to kill her. To command her. To prove that I was as dead inside as I appeared.

Or waited to prove that I wouldn’t do it.

That my threat over her life wasn’t worth fearing.

I’ll show you fear, girl.

“If no one has come for you by now, then no one will. This valley has been kept secret for generations.” Running my nose along her tear-wet cheekbone, I murmured, “Know what I think? I think you’re alone and always were. I think you were stupid enough to venture into my territory without telling anyone. I think you’re dead to everyone but me.”

“No, I—” She struggled all while I squeezed a little harder. Her stubborn strength flickered. “Wait, stop.”

She blinked; her eyes went fuzzy. Her nails dug deeper into my arms as instinct made her fight. She thrashed as my hand tightened. And tightened.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

I shook as her pulse turned into erratic spurts beneath my thumb.

Her mouth opened, gasping, her hands struggling to stay on my arm as her oxygen levels depleted.

Finish it.

The repetitive urge to end this nightmare raced down my fingers.

I didn’t want to have to deal with this shit. Sex wasn’t worth it. I wasn’t strong enough to keep my past buried and believe I could fuck a girl who had no choice but to spread her legs for me.

Do it.

I squeezed.

She fought harder, kicking, gasping.

I squeezed.

Her eyes bugged with horror then reluctantly fluttered shut.

Her knees gave out.

She slithered down the wall as I let her go.

All that fight. All that passion.

Gone.

Fuck.

The pressure in my cock transferred to my heart. It smothered my insides. It cracked my ribs. It physically fucking hurt to see her crumple on the floor unconscious.

I backed up.

What the hell did I do?

She deserved it.

She can’t be here.

You can’t be around her.

I dug ten fingers into my hair, clutching at my skull where such misery lived.

In the short time she’d been here, her spirit had tainted this place. Fables wasn’t empty before. Now it was. It grew colder the longer she lay unmoving at my feet.

My stomach clenched.

I felt sick.

Come on, breathe.

Dropping my hands, I nudged her with my bare foot. I wasn’t ready to stop playing this game. I wasn’t ready to admit that whatever she’d done to me hadn’t ended when her heart did.

Come on...

Breathe!

For a few endless moments, she remained dead. Her soul teased with the idea of leaping free and escaping me. But as I turned to grab a cup of water from the tap, to splash her with ice, her mouth wrenched wide, and she gulped air.

She coughed.

Over and over, she gasped and choked.

Rolling onto her hands and knees, she retched. Her back arched with frantic breaths, and her hair cascaded around her, leaving her looking as wild as I felt.

Relief washed through me.

What the hell was that?

Why do I care if she lives or dies?