Page 26 of When Night Falls
"I know nothing makes sense to you right now, but I promise you'll understand everything soon." I grab Lucynda by the arm and drag her gently toward the front door with me, opting to walk her to the compound if only to reveal another secret to her, hoping it will help the process along.
"Where are you taking me?" She tries to yank herself free, and again, my anger gets the best of me, a fine perk of the curse. Though I am naturally a demanding and intimidating man, the curse brings it out tenfold, and this time it's accompanied by hunger and it's not the good kind.
"Lucynda, don't make me do this the easyway," I warn her, pushing her so that her back is flush with the door.
"You forcing me into doing whatever the hell your sick mind has planned for me is theeasyway? I don't want to go anywhere with you!" She fights for her freedom with me against the front door, shoving her way past me and into the kitchen. I'm not sure where she intends to go, anywhere she thinks she can hide, I will find her.
She rushes over to a kitchen drawer and before I know it, my eyes are staring at the large silver blade of a butcher knife. It looks old and very harsh. My eyes dance between the glint of silver and the gray glass of her eyes.
That's when I realize what she's doing.
"Lucynda…" I warn, holding my hands up in the air.
"I'll fucking do it. I'll stab myself. Or maybe I'll stab you. Either this is a dream and I'll wake up from it or we're both fucking crazy and-" She waves the knife in the air before turning the blade toward her, both hands on the wooded handle, and positions the point of the weapon toward her stomach. "Get out of my head!" she screams.
How did I miss it? The signs that her intrusive thoughts were this bad. I know she's been through a lot for someone so young, I know she has demons but who doesn’t? That's why I think we were matched. And even though her actions right now are a little chaotic and concerning, I still don't sense true, guttural fear from her. I sense desperation. Darkness. Betrayal.
She isn't afraid of me or of what she might do. Fear is masked in her hatred for the outside world. For all who have made her feel so fucking small. For me, and what I have caused her to believe. But I know I can feel the desire deeply embedded in her, she just doesn’t want to believe that it’s obtainable.
Feeling my eyes burn and my heart race—or rather ache at the thought that she'd even consider stabbing herself for the sake of ridding the pain, or maybe she’s trying to best me—I decide to do this the way I said I was going to avoid. She doesn't have a choice right now; I can't risk her doing something stupid.
"Put the knife down, Lucynda," I prep her with my voice as I attempt to move closer without tipping her off. But I know more than anyone that any movement she makes, I can make mine faster.
Her hands shake with the blade, a tear escapes her eye, but she doesn't move.
"Lucynda." My voice is a threat in her wake, I can tell she's trying to fight my words.
"Stay back," she warns, pushing the knife an inch further into her own territory.
At this point, my bloodlust is starting to grow restless. Mix that with the outrage I feel toward her for putting herself in this situation, my blood is on a roaring boil. Or rather, I feel an intense anger at myself for a feeling that overpowers all else; the need to protect her from herself.
"Stop!" she yells as I step closer toward her, and I can feel the heat of fury rising so quickly to my neck that I snap without a moment's notice.
"Dammit, Lucynda. Put the fucking knife down!" My demand comes out harsh and thunderous as I pound my fist down onto the countertop beside her, watching the knife fall to the ground as the blade rings an echoed sound.
She shakes from the vibrations of my voice, and I know that now I have to do what I've held off on doing for so long.
I have to compel her.
But before I grab her by the shoulders to feed my words ofencouragementto her, Lucynda looks down at where my fist hammered hell and her lip quivers.
"N-no," she stammers, another tear escaping her eye.
"What?" I question, not understanding where the sudden heart break is coming from.
"St-Stella." Her tone wobbles with sadness.
I look down to see that under my fist are the guts of the black widow. Black body matter is pressed into the countertop, the tiny red hourglass symbol deconstructed with the pressure of the hit I'd made, and a little pool of blood surrounds the lifeless body.
I can feel her body deflate. That's when I recognize that her need to havesomeoneis stronger than her will to live at this point, and it just proves that this arrangement will be in her best interest becauseI amsomeone and I can mend her soul with the desires she craves. If only it means I have to break her in the end.
Do I feel bad for accidentally smashing her spider friend? Not when I have a darker soul to save and the craving of my own that I can't seem to shake.
She's pained by the death of an insect, yet her life seems insignificant enough to her that she'd hold a knife to her core. She's more broken than I thought.
She is devastatingly beautiful.
I wipe the spider guts from my hand off on the edge of the counter and decide to move forward with my plans to compel her. I place one of my hands on her shoulder and use the other to lift her chin to meet my eyes.