Page 305 of Fatality

“...is for Kyle.”

Her chest tattoo is for Kyle?

I thought it was just aesthetic. It's right over one of the most important places on the body.

Her heart.

I don't know why but it makes something tighten painfully inside my chest.

She grew up with more money than I could've ever dreamed of and still spent her whole life feeling alone, loved only by her brother that died in her arms, saving her and her friends.

Meanwhile, I had an awful, blood-soaked childhood but I was loved by my parents, even as fucked up my father had to make sure I survive.

My throat works around the words. Talking costs me.

I fucking hate talking.

“When I was ten, I got caught stealing from some shitty store. Enforcers picked me up and locked me alone in confinement for hours. Complete silence, for a kid raised in the constant noise of the Lower Layers, it was terrifying. Ever since, silence has been unbearable. I fight it with movement, with sound, with chaos, with anything.”

I look at her.

My jaw is clenched so hard it aches, my eyes don't leave her face.

She slowly lowers her gaze to me, her eyes are softer than I've ever seen them.

“The silence.” I grit out. “When I beg you not to let me go back to it, it's because you chase it away.”

I sit up abruptly, vault over the back of the couch, yank open my fridge, and grab a Nitro can.

I rip the tab off and drain it in one long swallow.

“It's the only thing that terrifies me.” I wipe my chin with the back of my hand. “The silence.”

I let out a rough breath, my mods are flaring. I hate feeling exposed.

Weak means death.

That’s how I was raised and how I lived my whole life.

“I never will be a soft lover, I can’t even promise you one day I won’t try to rip your heart out just to make sure you will stay with me.”

I look dead in her eyes.

“So leave. Walk the fuck away while you still can. Because I'm a fucking monster who kills for fun. And lately, I've been killing for you.”

I pant, I feel like I'm dying.

I hope she doesn’t cross the threshold, if she does, my already fucked up sanity will be erased.

She stands up, then hurls a cushion straight at my face. I dodge it.

That is absolutely not what she should've done while I'm like this, it makes my anger flare up.

A roar tears out of my throat as I lunge at her, she meets me halfway, climbs onto the back of the couch and throws herself at me, wrapping her entire body around mine.

Her stomach presses against my face through the towel. The impact makes me stumble back two full steps.

She smells like my body wash mixed with her own scent.