Page 385 of Coal Hearts

I’d shredded all the despair between us.

I’d seen a fresh start.

Hope.

Whatever intelligence inside me that spoke words and walked on two feet died beneath the prehistoric awakening where only two emotions existed.

Love and longing.

I’d fallen into the pit of both.

I’d shattered my legs on impact; cracked open my soul upon descent.

I’d felt more from a single kiss than I had in my entire godforsaken life, and instead of feeling the same tidal wave of connection, Ily looked at me as if I’d destroyed her.

Not her choice.

I forced her.

“Are you so corrupted by this place to believe I sleep with you by choice?” Her cutting question in the shower slapped me around the head. “I’m not your wife, Henri. I will never be any more than what you turned me into.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“The moment I saw you in Paris, I felt something. But then you gave me to Victor, and all those maybes died.”

I crippled beneath loss.

And fear.

Such motherfucking fear.

I wanted to turn back the clock and never steal her.

I wanted to wind it back until I was never born.

“You were born alone. You will die alone. And while you keep me against my will, you will stay alone.”

Fuck.

I bordered hyperventilation.

The fear became too much.

The fear of losing her to another. Of losing her to Victor and death and this place.

But really...I couldn’t lose something I’d never had.

I couldn’t miss something she’d never given me.

Couldn’t hoard something I’d never earned.

Sucking on air, I did my best to claw my pieces back into place.

I needed that darkness. Craved to return to that black abyss.

I couldn’t cope like this.

Feeling like this.