Page 79 of Morally Corrupt

"I told you. I'm not normal." She frowns.

"Those bugs were yours, weren't they? That's how you knew about Martinez in the first place. How long? How long have you been tracking me?"

"Since we got married. I had to keep you safe." Arguing further seems like a moot point when her reasoning seems to be mainly keeping me safe… by killing people. I push that thought away and bring up the other topic.

"What about drugs? I still can't believe I never once suspected you used…"

For the first time, she appears to be ashamed.

"That… I'm trying to quit."

"Fuck!" I say once more, pacing about the living room.

"Now that all is out in the open, we can improve our relationship. I can be Pink for you every time you want." She licks her lips suggestively, and I'm just… stunned.

"You really don't understand, do you?"

"What? You know the truth now. I don't have to hide anymore."

"You hurt me, Bianca. You lied and manipulated me into marrying you. You're a fucking killer, for God's sake. And you want us to just continue as if nothing happened? As if I'm not looking at a stranger right now?"

"Well… yes." She cocks her head to the side as if contemplating the idea.

"This isn't real…" I throw my hands in the air.

"There's no relationship anymore, Bianca. There never fucking was one, it seems," I tell her even though my own heart is breaking as I say this. "There's no us. I want you out. Out of the house, out of my life. I never want to see you again. It's over."

"But Theo…" she protests, but I've had enough. I don't recognize my own voice as I yell at her.

"Get the fuck out. Don't even think about coming near me again. You disgust me."

I turn my back and leave her, heading into one of the guest rooms for the night and locking the door. Isn't it funny that now I'm worried she might even kill me?

I laugh at my own stupidity and maybe at how this all fits. Perhaps it's fate, after all.

My own wife, a sociopath… a cold-blooded killer. A pretender.

Yeah, maybe it is karma.

Since I am the biggest pretender of them all.

29

BIANCA

I don't know how I left the apartment or where I am. I've never seen Theo so upset, so inconsolable. When he'd told me to get out and that I disgusted him, something broke inside me. My chest cavity feels constricted for some reason.

I stand for a minute and punch myself in my breast to alleviate some of the discomfort. Am I having a heart attack? There's something to be said about the state I'm in… I've never felt like this before. Can someone feel like dying when they're very much alive and physically uninjured?

I've had my fair share of wounds throughout the years, caused by different weapons and to varying degrees of concern. Not even the worst pain I'd withstood when Vlad and I had been stranded in New Mexico with no medical equipment but a bottle of whiskey and our knives.

He'd dug out a bullet from my thigh with his blade and poured alcohol on it, and I'd somehow refrained from crying out. Now?

I shake my head and stumble forward, gripping the wall of the building near me for support.

There's something wet on my face. I touch my hand to it and realize it's tears.

I'm… crying? I've never cried unless I was pretending.