23. Gage

23

Istalk through the haunted house, my movements mechanical and lacking their usual predatory grace. The screams and shrieks of terror that once fueled me now fall flat, echoing hollowly in my ears. I go through the motions, jumping out at unsuspecting victims, but my heart isn't in it.

This time of year usually ignites a dark fire within me, a hunger that only the fear and suffering of others could satisfy. But now, after what I almost did to Aurora, something foreign and unsettling has taken root. Remorse, a feeling I never thought I'd experience, gnaws at my insides like a festering wound.

Images of Aurora's limp body haunt me. The memory of her pulse fluttering weakly beneath my fingertips seared into my mind. The realization of how close I came to snuffing out her light, to losing her forever, weighs heavily on my conscience.

I move through the dimly lit corridors, my steps heavy and burdened. The mask that once empowered me now feels suffocating, a reminder of the monster I've become. I glimpse my reflection in a mirror, the grotesque visage staring back at me, and I barely recognize myself. Granted, I'm wearing a mask, but I always wear it. This is me.

As I jump out at another group of unsuspecting visitors, their screams ringing in my ears, I can't help but wonder if this is what my life has been reduced to—a hollow existence devoid of any true purpose or meaning. The rush of power seems meaningless in the face of what I've lost. Aurora didn't reply to my last text. She's clearly accepted the truth. I'm not safe to be around.

I retreat to the shadows, my chest tight with an unfamiliar ache. The weight of my actions, the gravity of my choices, press down on me like a physical force. I've always embraced the darkness and reveled in the fear and suffering of others. Now, faced with the possibility of losing the only person I've cared about in my fucked up life, I'm forced to confront the true cost of my depravity.

The haunted house is nearly empty, with the last few stragglers going through the twisting corridors. I'm going through the motions, my mind still reeling from the previous night's events. Guilt and shame weigh heavily on me, a constant reminder of the monster I truly am.

I freeze as I turn a corner, ready to scare the night's last group. There, standing before me, is Aurora. Her eyes are vibrant, shining with a light that seems to pierce through the darkness surrounding me. She's wearing a stunning dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, and my heart skips a beat.

She takes a step toward me, her gaze never wavering. "I'm not staying away," she says, her voice soft but determined. "I can't stay away from you."

I'm overwhelmed by her words, by the intensity of her presence. A strange feeling stirs within me, one that I can't quite place. It's not the usual hunger or bloodlust I'm accustomed to, but something else entirely. Is this what emotion feels like?

Before I can process my thoughts, Aurora closes the distance between us. She lifts my mask to reveal my lips and presses hers against mine. I'm lost in the sensation of her kiss. It's passionate and hungry, a fire threatening to consume us both. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close, desperate to feel her warmth against my skin.

For a moment, the world falls away. The haunted house, the mechanical frights, the darkness that has defined my existence—all of it fades into the background. There is only Aurora, her body pressed against mine, her lips moving with mine.

But even as I lose myself in her, the nagging feeling persists. The guilt, the shame, the knowledge that I am not worthy of her affection. I am a monster of the night that feeds on fear and suffering. How can I ever be deserving of her?

As we break apart, breathless and panting, I search her eyes for answers. She looks at me with such tenderness and understanding that it almost breaks me. She knows the darkness that lurks within me, the horrors that I've committed, and yet she's still here, still willing to fight for me.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispers, her fingers tracing the edge of my mask. "I see you, Gage. All of you. And I'm not afraid."

I slam Aurora against the haunted house wall, my lips crashing against hers in a violent, desperate kiss. I pour all of my hunger, all of my need, into the brutal embrace, my teeth grazing her soft flesh. She meets my intensity with her own fervor, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

But then she breaks the kiss, her eyes locking with mine. "Let me see you," she whispers. "Without the mask."

I freeze, my body tensing at her request. The mask is my shield, my armor against the world. It's a part of me, a symbol of the darkness that consumes me. To remove it, to expose my face to Aurora, feels like a vulnerability I'm not ready for.

But as I gaze into her eyes, I see something I've never seen before. Understanding, acceptance, a willingness to embrace all of me, even the parts I despise. And despite the psychotic rage that still courses through my veins, despite the voice in my head that screams at me to remain anonymous, I nod.

With shaking hands, I reach up and slowly remove the mask. The cool air hits my face, and I feel exposed, raw. I brace myself for Aurora's reaction, the revulsion or fear I'm sure will follow.

But Aurora reaches out and gently cups my cheek, her touch feather-light against my skin. Her gaze holds so much affection that it steals my breath.

"Beautiful," she murmurs.

I stare at Aurora, my heart pounding as she gazes at my unmasked face. The word catches me off guard, and I shake my head, unable to believe what she's saying. How can she find beauty in a monster like me?

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she whispers, her fingers tracing the contours of my face.

I flinch at her touch, still unaccustomed to such gentleness. "I'm not beautiful," I growl, my voice rough with emotion. "I'm a fucking monster."

But she doesn't back down. Instead, she presses closer to me. "I didn't care what you looked like under the mask," she says, her eyes locked on mine. "But I never could have believed how devastating your looks are."

I'm stunned by her words, by the sincerity in her voice. No one has ever looked at me with such raw admiration and desire as she does. It's terrifying, and I find myself at a loss for words.

Aurora's hands slide down my chest. "I want you, Gage," she breathes, her lips hovering just inches from mine.

I can't resist her any longer. I crush my lips against hers, my hands gripping her waist as I pull her flush against me. The kiss is desperate and hungry, a clash of teeth and tongues as we both pour our emotions into the embrace.

When we finally break apart, both of us panting heavily, I press my forehead against hers. "You're playing with fire, little one," I warn. "I'm not sure I can control myself around you."

I stare into Aurora's eyes, the guilt still eating away. I almost killed her last night and lost control in the heat of the moment. The memory of her limp body, her pulse weak beneath my fingers, haunts me. I don't know if I can forgive myself for that.

"Gage," she whispers, her hand reaching up to caress my cheek. "We'll take it slow, okay? Both of us need to learn our limits."

I nod, leaning into her touch despite the voice in my head screaming that I don't deserve her comfort. "I'm so sorry, Aurora. I never meant to hurt you like that."

She shakes her head, a faint smile forming. "I know. And if I had known the warning signs, I could have said the safe word. But this is all new to me, too."

Closing my eyes, I try to push down the self-loathing that threatens to consume me. "I don't know if I can trust myself around you. What if I lose control again?"

Aurora takes my face, forcing me to look at her. "It won't happen again. We'll be more careful, more communicative."

I want to believe her, to have faith in our connection. But the darkness inside me is strong, and I fear it will always be a part of me.

"I don't want to lose you," I whisper, my voice breaking. "You're the only good thing in my life. The only light in the darkness."

She leans in, pressing her forehead against mine. "You won't lose me. I'm not going anywhere."

I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as if she might disappear. The guilt still lingers, but her presence soothes the ache in my chest. I feel a glimmer of hope, a chance at something more than the blood and violence that have defined me for so long.

"We'll figure this out together," Aurora murmurs, her breath warm against my skin. "One step at a time."

I nod, clinging to her words like a lifeline. I know the road ahead won't be easy, but I'm willing to try with Aurora by my side. To be better, to be the man she deserves. Even if it means confronting the demons that have tormented me for such a long time.