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“Probably wise not to talk about his dearest Chandelle.” Cold Stare laughed.
I waited for him to drop, for the look on Mercer’s face to do what it wanted and kill him. But it didn’t. Eventually, that cruel expression moved toward me.
And in that moment, I wanted his glare to kill me. I wanted it to happen quickly. I wanted out of this room, this world.
“What I told you about Chandelle and me was true. We were attacked on vacation. Then kidnapped and separated, and she was killed.”
“And you blame me?” He couldn’t possibly. “I didn’t kill her.”
“But she is dead because of you. Because Daddy wanted a new heart for his dying little princess.”
I was grateful right now that Mercer couldn’t talk. There was enough emotion in those words without a human voice. He hated me, I could feel it, and it hurt more than anything else he could ever do to me.
“No…”
“Yes. And it’s strained my fucking heart for the last year. Be grateful you’re still alive. I killed everyone else involved with her death…well, all but one. But you being here might have already done that. You told me yourself Daddy couldn’t face losing you. Maybe the cunt has drunk himself to death. If not, he’s next on my list.” He smiled cruelly.
I said nothing, letting him continue and letting anger flare in my nostrils.
“I brought you here, broke into your home in the middle of the night, and drugged you so I could put you in a situation to fall in love with me. I wasn’t sure you would. But you played my little game well. I couldn’t have wished for a better participant.”
Participant, that was all I was to him.
“I comforted you through the trauma. I made us both live so you’d clutch at the good in me. I made us both do unpleasant things. I had these guys rough me up a little. I even fucked you, all so you’d feel something for me. And then, when you finally felt like you had a reason to live...I’d take it all away. Break your heart so you’d know how it feels.”
“You were my first.” My anger was back.
“More fool you for waiting so long. You’ve had years to give it up.”
“I hope you feel guilty for disrespecting your girlfriend by fucking the reason she’s dead.”
My cold words stabbed into his heart. He swallowed hard, definitely affected by the truth in them. And that hurt me. Cold tears fell from my jaw to the pancake I had no intention of eating.
“Eat up. You have nothing else to do now that you’ll be down here alone.”
“I thought what we had was special. Was real.” I let my eyes meet his, our stares similar in color, yet so different as they locked on each other.
“What I had with Chandelle was real. Real struggles, real arguments and disagreements. That’s a real relationship, not what—”
I cut him off, not wanting to hear the next part. “Sounds like you were in the wrong relationship. You didn’t mention the good stuff that comes with being with someone. The gentle touches, the comfort they bring, the way they hold you through a nightmare.” All the things we had experienced together.
Mercer visibly swallowed again, well aware of what I was doing.
“You don’t deserve to know every detail of our life. She is dead because of you.”
The words silenced me.
Retreating footsteps caught my attention, big boots and then squeaky shoes, both annoying me. The men slinked out the door, leaving Mercer and me alone.
I could have begged to go home...but Mercer wouldn’t listen. The voice never did. And, in truth, I didn’t have a home. I had a shiny pink room that invited a monster in from down the hall to abuse me.
This cell was no fucking worse than that.
My only choice was to stay here and starve or eat...and starving meant this shit show life would be over quicker.
The only thing I had, Mercer had taken away.
Fuck him.
