Page 54 of Redeem

And I couldn’t love him. Couldn’t no matter how much my heart said I did.

“I let his death go unanswered. A final betrayal,” he said.

I jumped at his words, realized that we had both been quiet, lost in our own thoughts, for how long I didn’t know. But his voice shattered the silence, gave me a reminder that I was here with him.

It also made my heart twist. There was distance in it, calm, but there was also certainty. I again felt that moment of connection, knew what it was like to carry the burden of failing someone, to know that you could never make amends for what you had done.

What you hadn’t been able to do.

And I was again reminded of the tie that pushed us together, hated myself for it, just as I could hear Ciprian’s hate for not avenging his father.

“What were you supposed to do?” I asked.

The question was directed at him, but it was equally relevant to myself. What was he supposed to do? What was I supposed to do?

I didn’t have an answer.

“I was supposed to do what I had done so many times before, what I did so many times after,” he said.

I didn’t want to ask, didn’t want him to answer, but the words came out of their own volition. “You were supposed to kill someone?”

He nodded.

“If someone had killed me, my father never would have let it stand. I should have done the same for him. He deserved at least that much, more,” he said.

“Do you know how fucked up that is?” My voice wobbled, cracked, the depth of my anger making it impossible for me to keep it steady.

Ciprian looked at me, somewhat surprised. “How fucked up what is?”

“You’re angry at yourself for not killing someone. That’s insane,” I said.

“I lived in an insane world. One that only got worse after I failed to do what I should have,” he said.

“How?” I asked, again finding myself drawn in despite knowing I should be anything but.

“I knew who killed him, and though I knew why, I still let it pass. I didn’t stand up for my name. After that, all was lost,” he said.

He looked down again, as did I, trying to process his words. It was insane, it was insane as fuck, actually, but I thought I understood. “You didn’t do what you thought you should have, and after that you stopped caring,” I said.

He nodded. “I did before, but after my mother and my sisters, then him, I…”

He trailed off, looked away, and I saw a flash of something like guilt in his expression.

He looked at me again. “I stopped caring. Before, I had a code. Rules, but after…”

My stomach sank as I realized where this was going, what he was saying.

“My husband…”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t have…”

I looked at him and he must have seen the skepticism in my expression.

“I would have hurt him. Badly,” he said. “But I wouldn’t have killed him. But after… I didn’t give a thought about anyone, or anything. Including myself.”

I heard his words but focused on his tone, the coolness with which he said them. Instinctively I knew that the distance and reserve he was showing now hadn’t been present then. Tried to picture him wild, unencumbered, angry with himself for what he perceived as a failure, not caring about anything else.

It was hard to reconcile that image with the man I knew now, but I had to. I’d carried the reality of who he had been, still carried it to this day. Reluctantly, I let my mind go back to the place I always fought so hard to avoid.