Chapter 20

Ophelia

Iwas in a vortex of emotions, each feeling swirling and connecting with the next until I couldn't pull them apart. My ears continued ringing from the gunshot. Gunnir's rough grasp was imprinted on my flesh, as if he still had his hand on my inner thighs as he spread my legs. I was glad the devil was dead, but also terrified about how it would affect Alex. He took his brother's life for me, but I wasn't sure if he'd done it to save me or to keep me all to himself. That weird familial competitiveness seemed generations deep.

I pushed away from his chest and looked into his eyes. Would he keep his promise? Would he open the gates for me? I would have my answer soon enough.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said. He pulled away from me and turned to leave the room. A dark clump of blood matted his hair to the back of his head.

"Alex, you're bleeding," I said. "What did he do to you?"

He stopped in the doorway and gripped the frame with his hand. He didn't turn to face me as he spoke. "It doesn't matter now. Come on. I'll run you a bath."

My inner thighs quivered when I rose to my feet. I'd strained the muscles by fighting to bring my legs together as Gunnir fought to tear them apart. When he'd entered Alex's bedroom with that crazed look in his small eyes, I'd known what I was in for. He'd tried to drag me to his room by my chain, but I gripped the leg of the bed and refused to let go. Then he'd lifted me over his shoulder, carried me to his room, and—

And I couldn't think about the rest. He hadn't gotten to me, but it had been too close.

As I headed toward the hall, I stopped at the foot of the bed and allowed my eyes to land on Gunnir's legs. I didn't want to look, but I had to. I had to know he wouldn't hurt me—or anyone else—ever again. My gaze stopped on the back pocket of his overalls. Something light peeked from the lip. Something blonde.

I stepped over a line of blood that had followed the track in the hardwood floor, and I knelt beside his feet, my hand trembling as it neared the keepsake tucked inside his pocket. As I pulled it out and realized what it was, tears sprang to my eyes. It was hair, about three inches and roughly cut, bound in the center with a rubber band. Sam's hair. A trophy for her killer.

I clutched it to my chest and apologized to the girl we hadn't saved.

"You coming?" Alex called from the bathroom.

I stood, walked to the bathroom, and placed the hair in Alex's hand. "Can you bury this with Sam's body? I don't want it to stay with your brother. He doesn't deserve to take any more of her than he already has."

Alex shifted on his feet. "He...didn't bury her, O."

I nodded. Of course he didn't. A burial would have been too civilized for someone like him. "Can you bury that, then?"

He tucked it into his pocket and left the bathroom. For the first time since I arrived in hell, I was granted privacy. It was a promising start, but I refused to get my hopes up. I still had a chain around my neck, after all.

I dug through the cabinet to the left of the sink, found a rag, and used it to wipe the crimson splatter from my skin before I climbed into the tub. The lukewarm soak would be bad enough without Gunnir's blood dirtying things. I stepped over the edge of the tub and submerged myself, skimming my fingers over the water's surface. When I'd had enough of wiping the memories from my skin, I rested my head on my knees and thought about all the times I'd been in this bathroom after some horrific incident. In some of those nightmares, Alex had been a key player.

When had that changed?

More importantly, when had I changed?

The shift had been as gradual as the sun's trek across the sky—imperceptible in the moment but undeniable all the same. I'd gone from wanting to end his life to seeing no life that didn't have him in it.

Alex returned with a towel and a change of clothes. "Hey," he said as he sat on the toilet beside the tub. He reached out and stroked my back with a gentle touch that sent a shiver through my limbs. "I'm sorry." His hand went to the back of his head, and he winced.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Don't worry about me," he said, drawing his hand from his head and sitting taller. "I'd have taken more of a beating if I thought it could have saved you from him."

"Why'd you do it?" I asked, flashing my eyes up at him.

"What do you mean?"

I couldn't look at him while pressing him further, so I focused on the water instead. "Why'd you kill him?"

Alex scoffed. "Because he touched you. I needed to save you from him."

If that were true, if he really wanted to keep me safe, he could have let me go. Instead, he'd tried to save everyone. But when he was forced to make a choice, he'd chosen me.

Why?

I drew my knees closer to me. "What am I to you, Alex?"

He shook his head. "I have no idea."

"How do you not know?"

"I have no way to know. How can I say I want to be with you or I love you when I don't fucking know what that means? Love has always hurt here, and I don't want to love you if it means I'll hurt you more than I already have." He sat without speaking for a moment, then he pulled something from his pocket and leaned toward me. His hands went to the chain, and the tinny click of the opening lock sounded like a cannon blast to my ears. As he pulled away, the weight of more than the hefty chain left my body. My eyes rose to his, and he wiped a single tear that had slipped down his cheek. "You're free now, O. The front door is open, just like I promised." Before I could respond, he placed the fresh clothes on the toilet, left the bathroom, and closed the door behind him.

I cleaned up, got out of the tub, dried my hair with the towel, and wrapped it around my body. I carried the clothes under my arm. When I stepped into the hall, my eyes darted toward the living room. Escape waited for me on the other side of the front door, but what would I escape to? I could only return to the hell I'd known before the hell I'd been transplanted into. Staying with Alex didn't seem much more promising. If he couldn't love me, if he didn't already feel something for me, there was no point. He hadn't even tried to get inside me since Gunnir pushed his vile come between my legs. What if Sam had been right? What if I was only useful to Alex as long as I was shiny and new?

I was at a crossroads, and both paths looked bleak.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood...

My mind grasped at the long-forgotten Robert Frost poem I'd dissected for a project in high school. When faced with two paths, the man chose the road less traveled. He'd taken a chance and come out better because of it. Maybe the old poet was onto something.

Alex didn't know what love was, but I did. I could show him. He could come with me, and we could build a new life. Together. The money I'd stashed at my father's house wouldn't be enough to move to the city like I'd hoped, but it would be enough to survive for a month in the country while we figured out what to do next.

I walked across the hall and stepped into his room. He was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. A look of surprise flashed across his face when he saw me. "I guess you didn't hear me. The door is open," he said before turning away from me. "Go, Ophelia." When I didn't leave, he turned over and narrowed his eyes at me. "Goddamnit, Ophelia, what do I have to do to get you to leave? This isn't a place for you."

"It's not a place for you either," I said, refusing to back down.

His eyes darkened. "This is exactly the place for me." He jumped to his feet, gripped my shoulders, and threw me onto the bed. My towel fell away and revealed my naked body, but I didn't try to cover myself. He climbed over me and spread my legs with his knees, but I didn't try to fight him off. With outstretched arms, he planted his fists on either side of my head. "This is who I am. This is who I will always be. Weren't you listening when I told you what happened after I killed The Man? I kept doing this because I can't stop!"

"You're just trying to push me away," I said, raising my chin.

"Because you need to be pushed away. You need to be afraid of me."

I shook my head. "It's my choice now. Not yours, and not anyone else's. What you're doing won't push me away. You can't fool me, Alex." My lip quivered, my strength and courage draining from me with the confession rushing past my lips. "You won't force yourself on me because that's not what you want. Even if it is, you won't do it because you haven't wanted me since Gunnir ruined me."

Hurt registered on his face like a slap. "Is that what you think? You think I haven't wanted to push inside you because of what Gunnir did?" He lowered his hips, pressing his hard length against me. "I've never stopped desiring you. I've never stopped needing you." He shook his head, his eyes softening when they met mine again. "You aren't ruined in my eyes. You're beautiful and broken, but you have the strength to pull yourself together. But if I go with you, I'll only break you again."

I closed my eyes and allowed the tears to fall. His words revealed more than he realized. He'd said I wasn't ruined, and while that admission brought me so much joy, what he hadn't said gave me something I needed even more: hope.

If he didn't see me as ruined, there was only one reason he'd fought against his urge to devour me. Even though he couldn't admit it, the years of abuse hadn't left him damned beyond salvation. I saw him for who he was and who he could be. Now he just needed time to see it within himself.

"Come with me, Alex," I whispered. "Please."

He sighed and shook his head. "Where would we go?"

"Away. We can start over somewhere different. Somewhere that isn't here. I have a little money saved—"

He laughed and dropped his weight into me. "Do you really think I can just walk out of here and forget about the place that made me this monster that I hate?"

He was right. Walking away wasn't enough. "Then don't just leave it. Burn it down. Burn it all."

He swallowed hard.

"You are not this place, Alex. No one owns you anymore. Not The Man or your brother. No one."

* * *

Alexzander

Ophelia wasright on some things, but she was dead wrong on others. I belonged in that house. I deserved to be alone, with only my sins to keep me company. What other option did I have? Burn this place down and follow her to her father's house? This wasn't some fucked-up fairy tale where I would become a man instead of a monster once the spell was broken.

I had talked to her until I was hoarse, and she'd listened but hadn't heard me. She refused to save herself. If I wanted to keep her safe, I had to remove the threat. I had to do what I should have done all those years ago.

"Fine, get dressed," I said.

I climbed off her and stepped away from what I'd miss the most. Her mouth. Her kiss. The way she said my name. So much more. Everything. I left her in the bedroom so I could take care of business.

I dragged Gunnir from the house and dumped him into the bone pit. Only two canisters of gas remained in the barn because Gunnir had used one on Sam's remains. I needed one for him, which meant I'd only have one left for the house. It would have to be enough. I poured the gas into the pit and tossed down a match.

I emerged from the barn and saw Ophelia leaning against the truck, wearing a pair of my sweatpants and a sleeveless undershirt. It was weird to see her standing in a patch of sunshine. She looked so beautiful. And tired. And thin. I'd done that to her.

All the more reason for what I was about to do.

"Wait for me out here," I said. "I'll only be a minute."

It was selfish of me, but I leaned in and kissed her one more time. I didn't deserve to feel her soft lips or taste her again, but I'd never needed something so much in my life. As I pulled away, she looked up at me.

"Burn it down," she said.

I nodded. I would burn it down. I would destroy everything in that house that had hurt her.

I went back inside and splashed the noxious liquid throughout the house. I started in Gunnir's room, moved to my room, wound my way into the living room, and sat on the couch with an empty can. I had wanted to douse myself in gasoline, but I'd barely had enough to make it into the living room. This house had been the figurative hell for so many, and I was about to turn it into a literal inferno.

With a deep breath, I went to Gunnir's room and struck a match. It hit the bed with a rush of heat and flames that grew and consumed the mattress and dry wooden headboard. The dusty curtains behind the bed erupted in a flash of heat and light. I tossed the second match into my bedroom as I backed down the hall. A bright burst of fire reached into the hallway and settled into a warm glow. I continued my final tour, tossing matches into the kitchen before returning to the living room. I sat on the couch and threw more matches from my seat. I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket and lit one, letting it rest between my lips as the smoke mixed with the thick haze filling the house.

The overbearing heat pressed closer as I sat back and puffed on the cigarette. My eyes grew heavy, and I dropped my head back and felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time. It was finally over.

"Alexzander?" said a voice in front of me. My mother's voice. "Don't do this. You said you didn't know what love was, but you lied. The Man taught Gunnir hate, but I taught you love."

"Fuck off, mother. You don't know all the horrible things I've done," I hissed back.

"It doesn't define you. What defines you is what you do now. "

Heat seared my eyes, and I couldn't tell if it was from the flames or the tears threatening to fall. "What I'm doing now is taking myself out of the equation. I'll never hurt Ophelia again. I refuse to be like Gunnir and The Man for another day of my life."

"You aren't them. You have never been them, even when you've done things like them. They were without a conscience."

"I'm too damaged to be with her. I don't even know what drew me to her like this."

"She reminded you of me."

"That's not creepy or anything," I said through a cough. The cloud of smoke crawled along the ceiling, thickening with each passing second. I tried to sit up, but my head only lolled on a rubbery neck as sweat dripped into my eyes. I was too tired to wipe the sting away. "I'm trying to protect her."

"What about her father? Have you thought about how he'll continue to hurt her? You've cast that girl from the frying pan into the fire. Ophelia is good for you because she's shown you how different you truly are. She's brave, but she needs your strength like you need her softness."

I didn't speak. I couldn't. The fire had come close enough to heat my skin, and I was ready to receive my final punishment.

"Please, Alex. Don't go out like this. You deserve more than you think. She's lost like you. She needs you."

Hands gripped at me, and I tried to push them away with leaden arms.

"Alexzander!" The voice drifted from across a chasm, so far away. And it wasn't my mother's voice.

Ophelia.

Her hands tightened around my forearm as she tried to haul me off the couch, but I was an immovable weight. A hacking cough racked her chest. If I didn't do something, she'd succumb to the smoke while trying to save me. I lifted myself, forcing my legs to work beneath me because I couldn't allow her to die now after all she'd been through. I leaned my weight against her, supporting myself as much as I could, and we made our way to the door. The smoke thinned as we reached the threshold, and the air cleared the further we stepped away from the house.

She let me go and I collapsed onto the green grass, panting as I tried to inhale the fresh air. Ophelia looked like a fucking angel kneeling beside me, her hand rubbing against my sternum to encourage me to breathe.

"What the hell did you do?" she yelled.

"You wouldn't understand." The words rushed out in a wheeze. I turned onto my side and coughed until my chest threatened to split open. "You never should have gone in there after me. Do you know how stupid that was?"

"Says the man who decided to take a nap in a burning building." She sat back and coughed into the crook of her arm, then she dug into her pocket and placed the contents in front of me.

I looked at the items in disbelief. The picture of my mother. The drawing. The hair clip. I plucked them from the grass and clutched them against my chest.

"The game of checkers is already in the car. I grabbed this stuff while you were in the barn." She smiled at me. "You're welcome."

"Thank you," I said as I pulled her into me and kissed her. "For everything." Another bout of coughs rattled through my chest.

"You need to go to the hospital, Alex."

I shook my head. "I've been through much worse than this."

I had nearly died more times than I cared to admit. At that point, I was worried I was actually immortal. Incapable of death. Destined to live with pain and torment for all eternity. And I still hadn't been able to prove otherwise.

Because of Ophelia. Because she'd refused to let me give up on myself.

And maybe that was a good thing. My mother's voice had brought up something I hadn't considered. There was another monster besides me in Ophelia's life, and I needed to take care of that if I wanted to keep her safe.