Page 66 of Phantasm

He drops his gaze to the gun in my hand, and I feel its weight. “You let go of the past.”

“I can’t. Not until I find out the truth about what happened to my mother that night. Every detail.”

“You’re killing yourself, Darian.”

“WHY WON’T YOU TELL ME THE TRUTH?” I roar, overcome with anger, desperation, and grief.

Ragged, heavy breaths tear at my chest like daggers while we stare at each other in the flickering torchlight. When he stays silent, I stand on shaky legs.

Unfortunately, I can’t make him talk no matter how hard I press, beg, or rage. The truth remains sealed behind his cracked lips, and one day soon, it’ll follow him into the grave.

Broken glass crunches underfoot as I walk back out with slumped shoulders.

His voice reaches my ears. “Do you think the truth will help you heal? That it will somehow patch you together and make you feel better?”

Stiffening, I pause in the doorway.

“Wake up, Darian. Wake the hell up!”

I reach into my pocket and slide out my mom’s heart pendant necklace, the tarnished silver adding to its aged beauty.

“I know you’re scared, but you have to be a big boy for me. Can you do that? You need to be brave, okay?”

“I know you want to hurt my daughter to get back at me. To take the most precious thing from me, like I took your family. But all you’re doing is hurting yourself.”

As I palm the heart pendant in my fist, the ache behind my ribs intensifies until I’m forced to inhale or drown in this sea of sorrow.

“End this, Darian. Before it’s too late.”

I swiftly exit the cellar, jaw clenched, taking the steps two at a time before entering the kitchen, evading his toxic-laced knives that threaten to cut me wide open.

My conflicted thoughts battle it out as I place the gun on the island and rest my hands against the edge.

What will it take to make the memories of that night cease?Every time I let Cecilia beneath my skin, she unwittingly chips away at my carefully erected walls.

As a result of her gentle touches and even sweeter addictive kisses, the nightmares find cracks to seep through. How can she peel away my layers with so little effort? And why am I powerless and unwilling to stop her? A part of me is curious about the ease at which she unravels me.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

It was supposed to be easy.

Find her. Trap her. Break her.

Make her bend to my will.

Dropping my chin to my chest, I whisper a shaky “fuck.”

“Hey…” A hand lands on my back, sliding up between my shoulder blades, and I stiffen as Cecilia’s concerned voice creates irreparable fissures in my heart. “Are you okay?”

The pressing urge to shrug her off shouts loudly, but not as loud as the need to feel more of her touch, which burns through my T-shirt.

As I glance at her over my shoulder, I hold my breath.

“You’ve been drinking again.”

I say nothing, watching her eyes, her lips. Everything about her.

With a soft expression, she takes hold of my arms and guides me around so the island is at my back. Her hands slide a slow path up my chest, starting at my abs, then higher across the planes of my pectorals and shoulders, and then back down my arms. She interlaces her fingers with mine and cranes her neck to look me in the eye. “Sleep with me, Darian.”