Page 145 of Eternal

DAMIR

“Sail To The Moon” by Radiohead

Present

“ Y ou haven’t said a word since we got home.”

Her hands swirl slowly through the bubbles, eyes lost somewhere in the steam rising around us. She’s quiet, too quiet. I know it’s not like that inside her. I hate seeing her like this.

Sometimes I swear I can feel my heart ripping apart trying to match hers.

“I killed so many people,” she finally says. Her voice is calm. Hollow. She’s lying between my arms, head on my chest, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve hurt and killed more than I can count.”

I wrap my arms around her tighter, instinctively.

My hand finds hers beneath the water, and I hold on.

“When I was a kid,” she continues, “I thought I’d be a rockstar. I used to dream about it. My mom loved music. She introduced me to the Sex Pistols, Nirvana, Oasis and Radiohead.”

A smile pulls at my lips. “You do have a beautiful voice. I could’ve seen that happening.”

She chuckles, soft, but empty. “I’d make up songs on the spot, random words and stupid melodies. And she’d sing her favorite poems. Before things got... complicated.” She pauses. “I loved music. Even when I wasn’t allowed to love anything.”

Her fingers move over mine now, absentminded, gentle, tangling and untangling.

“Sometimes I wonder why I kept doing this. Why didn't I run away and ask Vik to hide me here forever. Find a job. Try to be... normal . Maybe even be happy with someone. Someone who doesn’t have nightmares carved into their skin.”

“You wouldn’t have met me,” I say.

Her fingers stop moving, like she’s just now considering it. That version of her life. One where I didn’t exist. “Maybe we would’ve,” she says softly. “In some other life. We could’ve gone on real dates. You’d flirt badly, I’d pretend to hate it. We’d go to concerts. Be stupid together.”

I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.

“I like this version of you just fine. And we do go on dates, regular ones. We eat at the same damn place four times a week. We take baths every night. We talk, we laugh. I braid your hair after.”

She smiles. “That’s true. I like our dates. They’re... safe .”

She shifts, turning to lay on top of me, her chest pressed against mine. Water laps over the edge of the tub, but I don’t care. Her eyes find mine, steady now.

“They lied about the journal, Damir,” she says. “They trafficked it. They only gave me the names they wanted dead. Maybe that’s why the pastor wasn’t on the list.”

My brows pull together. My stomach tightens.

“It makes sense. Maybe that’s why they sent me to stop you, or at least pretend to.

They needed you to kill the right people.

.. and keep the trafficking hidden. It would’ve destroyed them if it got out.

” Her head drops onto my chest again. She lets out a shaky breath.

“I thought if I killed enough of them, I’d finally feel free.

Free from everything. But I’ve never been free, have I? ”

I sit up and pull her into a full embrace, arms wrapped around her tightly. Water spills out onto the floor. Doesn’t matter.

“Don’t say that,” I whisper into her ear. “You killed bad people. You saved lives, baby. So many. Don’t you see that?”

She doesn’t answer, but I feel her body sink deeper into mine. A long exhale. Maybe she does see it. Or maybe she’s simply trying.

She stays quiet, her body heavy against mine like she’s finally run out of strength. I don’t rush her. She’s always been the one who keeps it all together, even when it’s tearing her apart.

I watch her fingers float through the water again, tracing invisible shapes. She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel it, that ache behind her silence.

No one sees the girl who never learned how to ask for help, I think. They only see the one who always replies when they do.

And that’s the version the world keeps calling on.

Over and over. But I see her. The quiet parts, the cracked parts.

“I hate it,” she adds. “That feeling. That emptiness. Like you’re never enough, never worth it, never cared enough about. When all you do is care. It makes the suffering feel... pointless. Like it doesn’t even earn its weight.”

My fingers slide through her damp hair, pulling it gently back from her face. I don’t rush to answer. Some truths deserve quiet before a reply.

“You’re not invisible to me,” I say eventually. “Not the version that replies, not the one who can’t ask. I see both.”

Her eyes close like she’s trying not to cry, or maybe like she needs to believe it for one more second.

The water ripples softly around us as my hands move carefully over her back and arms, tracing away any traces of blood left from tonight. I’m not thinking, only letting my fingers do what they need to, washing away the night, and the feelings too.

She sighs quietly, resting her head on my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, baby?” I ask, my voice low.

She shifts barely, all I required to see the faintest edge of vulnerability. “You clean blood off me so often... I don’t want you to have to.”

I smile against her skin, brushing a stray strand of damp hair from her neck. “I don’t mind. I’d do it forever if I had to. You’re worth every bit.”

The music from the living room hums faintly through the walls, distant but loud enough to follow us during our bath. She closes her eyes and lets herself lean into me, the tension in her muscles slowly melting away under my touch.

We finally slip out of the water. I grab a towel and wrap it around her, careful not to rush. She leans into the warmth, still shivering a little.

She’s already under the covers, bare skin warm against the cool sheets. I lie down beside her, pulling her close.

Her damp hair falls loose, and I reach out, fingers threading through the strands as I begin to braid it gently.

“Tomorrow,” she says softly, voice low and steady, “I’m going to my old house.”

I tuck a loose strand behind her ear, “Are you sure?”

Her eyes meet mine, scared but certain. “Yeah. I think there’s something there I missed... something I need to find.”

I swallow down the knot of worry inside me. “Do you want me to come with you?”

She shakes her head, lips brushing my collarbone in a quick, gentle kiss. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”

That means I’ll have time to check out the house I bought, finally get inside and see what it’s like. I left that bag of vinyls there, and a few things to make it prettier.

I smile, braiding slower now. “Alright. But if anything happens, you call me. No hesitation.”

“I will.”

I pull the sheets up around us, hand resting on her shoulder, fingers still woven through her hair. “Let me make you feel good tonight.”

Her grin lights up the dark room, and the last thing I feel before sleep pulls me in.

I don’t remember when I drifted off to sleep, but sometime in the dead of night, I woke up.

The room is silent except for the faint scratch of pen on paper.

I sit up, eyes adjusting to the shape of the stars I drew on the ceiling, little constellations I made for her. And there she is.

Sitting on the floor, legs crossed, the journal open in her lap, writing like she’s trying to catch every thought before it slips away.

Loose curls fall in soft waves around her face, and she doesn’t notice me watching.

I want to say something, to ask what she’s found or what she’s looking for. But I don’t.

Instead, I lie back down quietly, letting the stars above us keep watch, and let her fight her battles however she needs to.