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It’s too late to save me. Too late to save Ero. Too late to heal my heart or my head.

19

ERO

“Five years.”

“The Diamantes…disappeared six or seven years ago…”

“Seven years… seven years…”

The stranger’s words echo through my skull, over and over.

She leaves Circe standing in the middle of the park, frozen in a stupor for several minutes. I don’t stick around to watch. I need distance. Space to think.

Stirring when she left, I followed shortly after. Trailed her to the park.

I knew she must have sensed me. But someone else was shadowing her too. A protective instinct demanded that I see it through.

After those revelations though…

The streets of Lisbon remain deathly silent in the early hours of morning. That silence huddles around me, embracing me against the turmoil of Circe’s admission of guilt.

Not that I can remember exactly what happened last night. Other than the life-altering sex.

Deep in my gut, however, I know she attacked my mind. She did betray me.

And that lack of trust drives me on through the night. Up the hill, into the highest building I can find. No one makes a sound as I find my way to the roof. There, staring off over the Tagus River and the Atlantic beyond, I let myself crumble.

My spirit cries out, begging me to scream, to release the agony inside. Instead, I hang my feet over the ledge, sitting for hours.

Ciro leaves me be. The ghosts of my past lay dormant.

Probably because of Circe.

Experience tells me I’m better than I was before at holding on. Practice has made my “resets” less comprehensive. Allowing me to hang on to more of myself.

But what drives the nail in the coffin is the simple fact that she did it. That she, knowing full well how it feels to be controlled, used that weapon against me. To shut me up.

And then stood there and held me while I fell apart. Comforted me.

A sliver of pink and blue tints the horizon, telling me how long I’ve spent here. I rise on stiff legs, my toes suspended over nothing.

Gazing out across a beautiful city, a beautiful world, I look for meaning. For any reason to exist. But this world has nothing to offer me. No answers. No hope.

Iama shell. A tool to be used. A sigh escapes my lips.

“This is it. This is all I’ll ever have and all I’ll ever be.” My gaze drops, my shoulders slumping. “Alone.”

“You’re not.” Circe’s voice stops me cold.

“You said it once, that we both are. Even together.”

“I was wrong. About so much.”

“Maybe the details. Not the big picture.” I glance back, offering her a sad shake of my head.

Circe’s huddled against the doorway to the stairs, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. It’s cold up here. Not that I noticed.