Page 61 of Power & Punishment

I grab her waist and pull her in close, loving the sound of her breath hitching.

“Everything about you is my business whether you like it or not.”

I brace for impact when she doesn’t react. I expect her to knee me in the groin as hard as she can. It’s the smart thing to do.

Instead, she studies my face like I’m the mystery that needs to be solved between the two of us. And maybe I am, but she’s not dumb enough to go down that rabbit hole.

“This arrangement between us is temporary,” she says quietly. “You can’t expect me to open up after your bullshit ruse of wanting to protect me. I know once I no longer have any use to you, you’ll leave me alone, and that’s what I want. Don’t mistake my actions for compliance. I’m just trying to make the best out of a fucked-up situation.”

“Just show me, Emilia,” I say, trying to make my voice soft.

I don’t let her see how each verbal jab makes my chest feel like it’s ready to burst open. I’ve never wanted to change someone’s mind so badly. I’ve always understood that people don’t change and I was fine with that.

Until her.

Relief pools in the shallow end of her eyes as she slowly steps out of my hold and walks over to the desolate mattress.

“Whatever,” she sighs, flipping the metal latches open, “but you’re going to be underwhelmed.”

I doubt that.

The hinges squeak softly as she lifts the lid. I step closer to get a better look.

I’m expecting cash, a burner phone, or maybe even a hidden weapon. But there’s none of that.

It’s exactly what she said it was. Pieces of her life she stowed away and never meant to share with someone like me.

A cruel and bitter taste fills my mouth looking at the stack of photographs, an old, tarnished silver watch, and a vintage lighter that looks like it’s older than both of our ages combined.

She carefully picks up the first photo, her fingers clinging to the thin paper like it might disintegrate. My eyes snag on a middle-aged couple sitting on a couch surrounded by two very somber-looking children and one little girl who is the only one in the photo smiling even though she’s missing a front tooth.

I lean closer despite myself, gently nudging her shoulder.

“See,” she says with a small tremble in her voice. “I told you it’s nothing special. Just some family photos and a few items my mom and dad left me.”

“Is that your mother?” I ask.

“Yes,” Mia says, licking her bottom lip. “This was taken a few months before she got sick. I was still young, so I don’t remember her. Sometimes it makes me sad, and then other times I think it was a blessing. I remember everything about my dad, and I still have these moments when the grief consumes me.”

“I was only ten when my parents died,” I say, not thinking. “I lost the only family I had at a very young age, and for a long time I thought it defined me. But you can’t control how grief will make you feel. Only what you do with it.”

She looks up from the photo and locks eyes with me. She doesn’t blink or shy away. Instead, she holds my gaze with that familiar look that says she’s dying to know more. It’s the same look she gets every time she talks about Vince’s murder.

And then Mia pushes a breath out of her lungs, letting go of whatever she was holding in. “I really wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“Why?” I ask, tilting my head thoughtfully.

She blinks slowly, the edge inside her dulling. “Because it’s very inconvenient for the whole ‘I hate you’ thing I have going.”

I huff out a quiet laugh. “You’ll survive. I promise,” I suggest, sliding my hands into my pockets to keep from touching her again. “Regardless, you’ll find a new excuse to hate me.”

It’s the truth, even though I don’t want it to be.

But in the end, hate is an easier emotion to understand. Hate motivates me more than love ever has.

“Right,” she says, offering a smile before turning back to her box of trinkets and snapping it shut.

Dissatisfaction echoes inside me. I wanted her to pull out more pictures and show me the life that forced her into hiding.