Page 70 of Souls We Rip

His hand flew to my waist, holding me in place.

“Keep still. The pain is gone now,” he murmured in my ear, goosebumps spreading all over my sensitive spots.

His touch was a balm to my aching soul. The warmth from his hand spread through my ie, a sensation I began to like and, without shame, to accept.

The memory of the searing pain I felt outside the lair punched behind my eyes.

“What happened there?”

Everything was a blur. I could not recall the moment I hit the ground, nor when I was settled on my bed.

The Goat Man took his arm off me, then stepped away. He swallowed, a pang hitting my pulse. I felt his hesitation.

Without saying a word, I took my Mirror and watched his reflection. His lean muscles were clenched, his head shaking.

“Goat, what is it?” I asked, horrified.

At once, he turned, his eyes set on my feet. He took one deep breath and laid the truth before me.

“In the contract that I made you sign, I had written in small letters that you are not allowed to leave the perimeter of the lair…”

His words registered slowly.

“Look at me,” I growled, my own voice unknown to me.

Midnight lashes still covered his fair cheeks. Anger pushed through my body as shame crept over his skin.

“Look me in the eyes, Goat Man!” I demanded, my head held high. I imagined his neck constricting. And just like that, the Goat Man tried to breathe.

And he still didn’t face my wrath.

I felt in the air as his pulse tightened, a whimper breaking his lips. My mind released him from suffering. Realising what I had done, I took a step backwards.

This was not me.

“Please…” I begged, the state of him turning my fury into distress, the day I signed the contract, coming in waves to me.

So many things have happened since I put my name on that paper. It seemed like a lifetime.

“You made me sacrifice too much for your selfish reasons, Goat Man.” I ignored the hurt on his face, my eyes swelling from the tears I left unshed. “You hurt me more than my father did with his hands.”

The words I uttered pushed him back, his eyes hardening. His hands shook, his nostrils flaring.

“I am not like him,” he whispered, his words hitting the walls.

“You’re even worse.”

He took a step back, his shoulders sagging.

“At least he didn’t kill his own family.” I couldn’t stop myself from throwing those words. “You’ve stripped me of thought, of belief. Even of heart! And now I cannot see my family?”

My hands went slack. From the corner of my eye, I saw his head slumping, his chin touching his hemp shirt. He stood still, taking my attack.

The silence that followed my sullen words stretched to the point of hurting.

“Why, Goat Man? Why can I not see them?” My voice was just a whisper, touching his skin and making him shake.

He moved away from me, shifting the air and extinguishing the candles one by one, leaving us in complete darkness.