Page 24 of Say You'll Stay

The silence presses in, a physical weight mirroring the suffocating anguish in my chest. And yet, even in this hell, a single thought crystallizes with terrifying clarity: I will not lose Cara.

I will bind her to me, by any means necessary, until she understands that we are inevitable, that our souls are entwined beyond the petty constraints of morality or reason.

Days bleed into weeks as I dedicate myself to this twisted ritual, a slave to the compulsions that have consumed me. The hidden cameras in Cara’s apartment spring to life, a voyeuristic window into the life I’m determined to reclaim as my own; a paltry slave to the addiction I have to my Cara Mia.

She belongs with me, needs me, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.

As my father’s condition deteriorates, I find myself splitting my time between the cold, sterile halls of our family home and the equally cold glow of my computer screen. The once vibrant rooms now echo with the whispers of death, a makeshift hospice for my father’s final days.

I sit by his bedside, watching the rise and fall of his chest, each breath a Herculean effort. My mother and Judith flit in and out, their faces etched with sorrow and exhaustion.

But I remain, a silent sentinel, my hand clasped around my father’s, as if my touch alone could anchor him to this world. It’s during one of these vigils, as the shadows lengthen and the machines hum their morbid lullaby, that my father takes his last, shuddering breath.

The great Magnus Deveaux, a titan of industry and pillar of strength, slips away into the void; leaving us all in a sea of grief without a sail, or compass.

Tears burn hot trails down my cheeks, blurring the faces of my mother and sister into indistinct smears of sorrow.

I don’t know how long I sit there, cradling my father’s lifeless hand, before the world fades away, the edges of my vision darkening until there’s nothing but an all-consuming void.

When I come back to myself, I’m standing in Cara’s apartment. My heart pounds against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat that echoes in my ears, as the familiar scent of her envelops me - vanilla and cinnamon, with a hint of something uniquely Cara that I can never quite define.

I move through her space like a wraith, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. Every inch of this place is seared into my memory, a tapestry woven from stolen moments and secret longings. How many hours have I spent watching her through the unblinking eye of the camera, a silent sentinel in the shadows?

But tonight, watching is no longer enough. The ache in my chest, the yawning void left by my father’s passing, demands more. It demands her presence, her touch, her love - even if I have to steal it like a thief in the night.

I find her in the bedroom, a vision of beauty amidst the chaos that rages in my soul. For a moment, I simply stand there, drinking her in, my eyes devouring every curve and hollow of her petite frame.

At 5’0”, she’s always been the perfect size for me to sweep off her feet, to tuck under my chin and shield from the world. This delicate, ethereal creature whose mere existence has the power to both soothe and scorch my soul.

Cara, my muse, my everything - reduced to flesh and blood, a living embodiment of the dreams that have both sustained and tormented me.

I can practically taste the sweetness of her skin on my tongue, the velvet caress of her raven hair against my cheek. Mine, the word pulses through me like a primal drumbeat, a claim I will fight to the death to defend.

“I’m here. You hear me?” I breathe, my voice hardly more than a whisper. “I’ll always be here. You’re mine, do you understand? Mine.”

With trembling fingers, I reach out to trace the line of her cheek, marveling at the silky smoothness of her skin. She stirs slightly at my touch, a breathy sigh escaping her lips, and I freeze, my heart lodged in my throat.

But she doesn’t wake, lost in the depths of her dreams, and I release a shuddering breath.

Slowly, carefully, I ease myself onto the bed beside her, the mattress dipping under my weight. This close, the heat of her body is like a furnace, searing me to my very core. I can feel the whisper of her breath against my cheek, the steady rise and fall of her chest, and it’s almost more than I can bear.

“My Cara Mia,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with longing. “If you only knew how every beat of my heart is a cry for your touch, your love.”

The words pour out of me like a prayer, a confession of all the dark and desperate things I’ve kept locked inside for so long. In the shadows of this room, with only the moon as my witness, I lay myself bare, stripped of all pretense and guile.

“I’m lost without you,” I whisper, my lips a hairsbreadth from her ear. “You’re the only hope I have left., the only light I see. Please, Cara. Please come back to me.”

A single tear slips down my cheek, hot and scalding. It falls on her skin, a glistening trail of my sorrow, my desperation. I long to gather her in my arms, to crush her to my chest and never let go.

But even in the depths of my madness, I know that I cannot, will not cross that final, irreversible line.

Instead, I content myself with this stolen moment, this illicit communion. I memorize the curve of her cheek, the fan of her lashes, the delicate tracery of veins beneath her translucent skin. I breathe her in, letting her scent fill my lungs, my very soul.

Time loses all meaning as I lie there, drowning in her presence. The world outside this room, with all its pain and chaos, fades away until there is only her, only us, suspended in a cocoon of shadows and silence.

But even as I try to lose myself in the fantasy, reality intrudes, cold and unforgiving. Cara stirs, a soft moan escaping her lips, and panic seizes me in an icy grip.

I can’t let her find me here, can’t bear to see the shock and revulsion in her eyes when she realizes the depths to which I’ve sunk. With a silent curse, I force myself to pull away, to disentangle my body from the warmth of hers.