Page 25 of Say You'll Stay

Every fiber of my being screams in protest as I slip from the bed, my skin aching from the loss of her touch. I stand over her, my chest heaving, drinking in one last, desperate glimpse of her sleeping form.

“I love you,” I breathe, the words a vow and a prayer. “I will always love you, no matter what. And I swear, on my father’s grave, that I will find a way to be the man you deserve. The man you once believed me to be.”

With those words, I force myself to turn away, to slip out of her room as silently as I came. The cool night air is a shock to my system as I step outside, a brutal reminder of the reality I’ve been trying so hard to escape.

I will have to claw my way out of the abyss of my own making. But for her, for the chance to hold her in my arms and know that I am worthy of her love, there is no price too high, no sacrifice too great.

Cara, my heart, my home - I’m coming back to you. Not as the broken, twisted wretch I am now, but as the man you once saw in me, the man I swear I will become once more.

For you, my love, I will move mountains. I will reshape the very fabric of my being, even in the depths of my own personal hell; because I know: This isn’t over, Cara. You belong with me. Soon, my love.

Soon, you will be mine again.

The days that follow my violation of Cara’s sanctuary pass in a haze of guilt, grief, and an all-consuming desperation that threatens to drown me. I find myself torn, caught in a maelstrom of conflicting impulses - the rational part of my mind screaming for me to seek help.

To make amends, while the twisted, grief-stricken edges of my psyche cling to the deluded fantasy that Cara is destined to be mine, no matter the cost.

I bury myself in work, burying the sickening reality of my actions beneath the towering stacks of paperwork and frenzied meetings that now consume my waking hours.

The opulent halls of the Deveaux empire, close in around me as I struggle to keep up the façade of calm competence. But the cracks in my composure are ever-widening, visible in the tremor of my hands, the haunted shadows that linger in my gaze.

Yet, I cannot - will not - risk exposing the depths of my depravity, the twisted, all-consuming fixation on Cara that has become the very beating of my corrupted heart.

The mere thought of their disappointment, their disgust , is enough to send me reeling, reinforcing the walls I’ve so meticulously constructed around the festering rot at my core.

And so, I press on, a specter in my own life, going through the motions of a man in control even as I feel the very ground crumbling beneath my feet. Amethyst attempts to breach the fortress of my isolation, her delicate touch and saccharine words a vain effort to draw me from the shadows I’ve chosen to inhabit.

But I recoil from her advances, from the tender concern in her eyes, for I know that I am not the polished, confident heir she thought she’d tamed.

No, I am a broken, twisted thing, a husk of my former self, and the mere thought of her gentle caress fills me with a revulsion so visceral, it leaves me reeling.

I need Cara , her wild beauty and uncompromising spirit - the very things that have always both terrified and enthralled me.

She is the light that has the power to cut through the all-encompassing darkness that now shrouds my every waking moment, a beacon of hope in the tempestuous sea of my own creation.

And so, I find myself gravitating towards her, like a moth irresistibly drawn to the flame, even as I know that my touch will only serve to immolate us both. I seek her out, my feet carrying me to the modest dwelling that has become her sanctuary, my heart pounding with a terrifying mix of nerves.

When she opens the door, her eyes widening with a host of unreadable emotions, I feel the last shreds of my composure crumbling. “Cara,” I breathe, the name a prayer and a plea on my lips. “I need you.”

But the words are hollow, devoid of the conviction and unwavering devotion that have always characterized my love for her.

For I know, deep in the marrow of my bones, that I am unworthy, a tainted, broken vessel that can offer her nothing but ruin and despair.

Cara’s brow furrows, her gaze searching mine with a concern that only serves to twist the knife in my gut.

“June, what’s wrong?” she asks, her voice soft and infuriatingly kind.

I want to crumble, to fall to my knees and beg for her forgiveness, to confess the depths of my transgressions and plead for the absolution that I know I can never truly earn.

But the words catch in my throat, strangled by the crushing weight of my shame.

Instead, I shake my head, drawing upon the last vestiges of my willpower to erect the facade of composure that has become my armor against the world.

“I’m fine,” I lie, the words tasting of ash on my tongue. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

I turn to leave, every step a Sisyphean struggle against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to sweep me away. But Cara’s hand on my arm, gentle yet unyielding, roots me to the spot.

“June, talk to me,” she implores, her eyes brimming with a concern that only serves to deepen the ache in my heart. “Please, let me help you.”