Torture to Her Soul
Page 112

How unfair life is.
All of us have a hand in it.
We do what we have to do, take what we have to take, and sometimes we hurt people we swear we won't hurt, but we do, because life makes us.
It's a dog eat dog world.
We're all monsters, when it comes down to it.
Her eyes meet mine.
She mouths the words 'thank you'.
I do nothing but nod.
I don't deserve her gratitude.
But she's the kind of woman who is grateful, anyway.
I'm going to tell you something that a wise man once told me: it's not the darkness that's terrifying, it's what you might find in it.
I was always afraid of the dark as a child, afraid monsters would sneak into my room at night, but now I know there's nothing to fear. Not because monsters don't exist. They do. I've seen them. I've encountered them. One attacked me as I slept.
I even became one myself afterward.
No, the reason there's nothing to fear in the dark is because real monsters lurk in the light, too. They hide in plain sight. The trick is to find them before they can get you.
I'm not a good man.
I'm not.
I know.
But Karissa tells me maybe I'm not a bad man, either. I'm the kind of man who easily slips between the dark and the light, the kind of monster who walks along the shadows.
Through the darkness, I stare at where Karissa lays beside me in the bed. She regards me warily, eyes guarded and nervous as she waits for a reaction. I'm panting, trying to catch my breath, trying to calm down and purge the memories from my head.
I hate these fucking nightmares.
Seconds pass as she waits me out before there's a noise out in the hallway, something scratching against the bedroom door.
Panicking, I don't even think about it as I protectively grab ahold of Karissa, forcing her behind me. My heart stalls as I stare at the door, feeling her hands on me.
"Relax," she whispers, grabbing my arm. "It's just Killer."
Killer.
It takes a moment for that to sink in, but I don't relax, my muscles taut and shoulders tense. I offer Karissa a small smile as she leans over, lightly kissing my lips.
I kiss her back as she runs her hands along my face, wiping the sweat from my brow. She questions nothing. She asks nothing of me. I give her the world and for that, she offers trust. We both know I don't deserve it.
I never will.
But I'm grateful, and I show her.
I climb on top of her, kissing her deeper, more frenzied. It's instinctive, as she opens herself up, spreading her legs to accommodate me. I'm inside of her right away. With her, there's never any hesitation.
I've learned my lesson.
I find peace in the darkness sometimes now. I find peace with her. I'll never forget, but she makes me feel like it's okay to remember. It's okay to remember the pain and fear. It's okay to admit the darkness terrified me.
Because I found some light in it.
I found her.
The scratching at the door continues, followed by growling when Karissa starts to make noise. She might trust me, but Killer certainly doesn't. He takes her moans of pleasure as signs of distress and tries to break the door down to get at me.
Since you're so good at keeping secrets, I'm going to tell you another:
I had another fear as a child.
Just one other.
Goddamn dogs.
Karissa
The sports bar is utter chaos.
Every booth is packed, asses planted in all of the stools, as servers run back and forth and bartenders dish out beer after beer. Naz is still sipping on the same one he ordered over thirty minutes ago. I imagine it has to be piss-warm by now, but it doesn't seem to bother him.
He doesn't seem to notice, for that matter.
He sits across from me in the small wooden booth, posture relaxed but expression faded. The man's here physically, but his mind is somewhere far, far away. Where? I don't know. I'd ask, but he probably wouldn't answer.
He'd just tell me not to worry about it.
That's what he always says these days when I ask things, when he can tell I'm starting to overthink everything again. Don't worry about it. I try not to, but it's hard, given what we've been through, given who he is.
Or who he used to be…
"You're out?"
"About as out as a man like me can possibly be."
"What does that even mean?"
"Don't worry about it. Just know I'm done with all of that."
Out.
Done with all of that.
Hardly.
Over the past year, there have been incidents. Quiet phone conversations and middle-of-the-night disappearances, none of which he ever offers explanations for, leading to days of obsessively cleaning his finally-fixed car or being more paranoid than usual. The cops have come around more times than I care to count, asking about situations and people Naz always feigns ignorance about.
Out, for Naz, certainly hasn't been cold turkey.
Clearing my throat, I pick up the bacon cheeseburger the waitress shoved in front of me a moment ago when she ran past. I take a bite, dramatically rolling my eyes back in my head. Jesus Christ, it's Heaven on a bun. I'm surprised I don't hear trumpets playing in the distance as I chew, wiping the grease from my face when it runs down my chin.
Best burger ever.
"I swear, I could eat these every day," I say. "Breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
Naz's eyes drift my way at the sound of my voice. He's not eating. He says he's not hungry. "I'm not sure that would be good for your health."