Page 45 of What Blooms in Barren Lands

“No, it’s not lucky. Because the worst thing I’ve ever done drunk—the worst thing I have ever done at all—that didn’t happen in a pub.” He took a shaky breath, and I grasped his hand in both mine, encouraging him to go on even though I myself was becoming scared to learn whatever it was he wanted to share with me.

“I had a girlfriend in my second year of uni. That was when I still lived in Iceland. She was a smaller woman, like you. And what’s worse, she was about the gentlest person I’ve ever met ...”

I sat up abruptly, cold dread spreading through my body. I had been prepared for an account of how he inadvertently injured another man in a fight. But I could already tell this was going to be a much darker tale, and all I wanted to do was cover my ears. Even as I realised how cowardly it was that I didn’t want to hear it.

It pained me to see that Einar had gone pale and that his voice trembled.

“We got drunk together one day, after our exams ... and we started sort of play-fighting. Which already sounds nefarious as hell because of the wordfighting, but I swear it wasn’t. She instigated that sort of thing more often than I did, and I wasalready well aware of my own strength and mindful of not hurting her. We were practically still teenagers and she gave me every indication of enjoying this ...”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his face. I reached for the blanket and covered myself with it. I had long forgotten about the cold, but suddenly I felt inappropriately exposed.

“I don’t know when exactly or even why, but it got rougher that night. And it became abundantly clear she was not into that sort of thing. Suddenly, she wasn’tplay-fighting me anymore, she was genuinely fighting. And I didn’t stop straight away. Because her rejection, her feeble fight, the absolute power I had over her ... fuck, itexcitedme.”

He raised his eyes to look directly into mine. I felt as if my blood turned cold, each heartbeat sending an icy burst throughout my chest.

“Did you rape her?” I whispered a question I was so terrified of asking that a bout of potent nausea crashed through me.

“No,” he replied immediately to my great relief and with earnestness that made me trust his answer. “No, I didn’t. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have donethat. But I only stopped when I got her undressed and pinned underneath me, completely defenceless. It was as if a switch had gone off in my mind. It was only then that she started crying ...”

His lips curled in self-loathing so intense that I was shocked by it even more than by his confession. I felt an unwelcome stab of pity for him. For the villain whose warm embrace I craved even as he spoke of his crimes.

“Understandably, she wouldn’t see me afterwards. I wrote to her the next day and assured her that if she were to press charges against me for the assault, then I would plead guilty and accept whatever consequences. I almosthopedshe would go through with it. But she didn’t.”

His tone and eyes left little doubt as to the sincerity of his guilt.

“I could not stay after. We were both students at Reykjavik University, and she would leave the room if I came in or cross a street not to share the pavement with me. She would flee at the sight of me. It was unbearable. And so, I transferred to Edinburgh University and left the country so that she wouldn’t have to keep running into me. I wonder if she ever knew that I was sorry. I wonder if it made any difference to her. Probably not.”

“It may have,” I told him softly, but I doubted my own words.

“I hadn’t gone back to Iceland ever since, no matter how much I wanted to. Not even for my dad’s funeral. I had convinced myself too thoroughly that I had no right for as long as she was there.”

I blinked and tears spilled from my eyes.

“Do you know what happened to her?” I asked him hesitantly. “Did she have an okay life?”

“Well, she graduated and became a therapist like she always wanted. And she got married to someone who I know was a much better man than I’ll ever be. Not a year later, she was pregnant.”

I smiled and, for the first time since I could remember, I felt neither jealousy nor resentment for this woman who had an easy path to parenthood.

“I hope she was happy. Shortly after the Outbreak, I got a message from my dad’s old neighbour, Gunnar, you remember I told you about him? He told me she had been killed. An infected tourist attacked her. She was in her third trimester.”

We were both silent for a few moments.

“That’s why, when I am alone with a woman, I never drink enough to feel intoxicated,” he said after a while. “I don’t want to do that to anyone again. But I cannot lie to you or myself. Thatdark part of me that did it then, that got off on doing it ... that’s still inside of me. It’ll always be there. I’m in control of it and not the other way around. But there will be times when I’ll want to act upon it.”

He bound me with his gaze, forcing his harsh words upon me without mercy.

“I’m telling you because, contrary to all my expectations, I think you’re falling for me. And you really shouldn’t. I’m not exactly a good man.”

“You never pretended to be.”

“Aye, and because of that, I never expected to see anything close to trust in your eyes when you look at me. Hatred? Yes, to start with. Fear? Definitely yes. Thrill? Hopefully. But never trust. And it’s mad what it does to me. Ren, I want to deserve it, that’s the reason I’m telling you all this. Because you think you don’t care who I am. But I know you will when I hurt you.”

I scoffed.

“I won’t care if you hurtme. It’s you hurting others where things get ... complicated.”

I took a deep breath, pulling the blanket even tighter around myself.