Page 65 of Dark Therapy
Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but no words came. Just silence, thick and suffocating. I tilted my head, studying her, letting my gaze crawl over every inch of her face. Theshame, thefear, the flickering ember ofrecognition—I saw it all.
“You’ve been running, Millie. Running from me. Fromus. From the things you can’t bring yourself to admit,” I whispered, my voice dripping with mockery and venom. “But running’s over now.”
I stepped back just enough to let my eyes devour her trembling frame. A smile twisted across my lips—sharp, predatory, full of the promises she didn’t want to hear. “You’ll make up for it. Every. Last. Fucking. Thing.”
Her chest rose and fell with every breath, each one more frantic than the last. She was trapped in her own guilt, her own fear. I was just the reminder—the hand that would pull her back to the only truth she couldneverescape.
Her sin was my gift.
Her words hit me like a blade, but not the kind that cuts—it was dull, blunt, a taunt meant tobruise. “You killed an innocent man, Damien,” she whispered, her voice trembling, eyes full of fear she was trying so fucking hard to hide. “You don’t belong in a mental facility. You belong inprison.”
Prison?Prison. The word twisted in my gut, hot and raw, scraping against every nerve. I laughed—sharp, wild, unhinged—because what else could I do? She thought she understood. Thought she was the moral compass in a world that’s just rot and chaos.Innocentman. She was so naïve it almost made mesick.
I tilted my head, studying her, the way her chest heaved with every shaky breath. There was something delicious about that flicker of hope in her eyes, sofragileit could shatter with a whisper. “You don’t get it, do you?” I said, my voice low, crawling with something darker. I stepped closer, invading her space, watching her shrink back like a cornered animal.
“Shush, Millie,” I whispered, pressing a finger to her trembling lips. “Shush.” My voice dipped, sweet and venomous, like poison wrapped in silk. “That man wasn’t innocent. He tried to take what was mine.Mine, Millie. And when someone does that, they don’t get to walk away.” My grin stretched wider, teeth bared like a predator ready to pounce. “They pay. Witheverything.”
Her breath hitched, and I could feel the fear radiating off her, crackling in the air like static. It fed somethingprimalin me.My blood pounded in my ears, hot and fast, and I leaned closer, my words laced with manic fervor. “Do you know what it’s like to have someone try to rip away what’s yours? To feel their hands on something they’ve got no fucking right to touch? Do you, Millie?”
I didn’t wait for her answer. There was no point. She didn’t know. Shecouldn’t. “That innocent man you’re crying over? He wasn’t some victim. He was a thief. A goddamnparasite. And parasites deserve to becrushed.”
I straightened, taking a step back, my hands trembling, the rage inside me boiling just beneath the surface. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms, a tether barely holding me together. “Do you understand now? Do you see it?” My voice dropped, low and guttural, like the growl of a beast ready to devour. “Hehadto die, Millie. It wasn’t a choice—it was inevitable. He tried to take what didn’t belong to him. And in my world, there’s only one punishment for that.”
I fixed her with a stare, dark and unrelenting, my voice a razor’s edge. “You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies.Ido. And you better fucking remember that.”
Her panic was a fucking symphony. Every ragged gasp, every desperate thrash, sang to the chaos roaring in my head. She thought she could escape me—thought she could fight.Adorable.
“Look at me!” I snarled, my voice shredding the silence as my hand slammed the wall beside her head. She froze, her wide eyes locked onto mine, trembling, goddamnperfect.
“You’re trying to make sense of this, aren’t you? Trying to rationalize it. But here’s the kicker, doctor—there is no sense to this. It’s justme, and it’syou, and it’s this fucked-up story that was always going to end here.” I leaned closer, my breath hot and sharp against her ear. “You don’t run from fate, Millie. You fuckingkneelfor it.”
My fingers brushed her cheek, almost tender, if not for the tremor of violence behind the touch. Her skin was cold, but I could feel the heat of her pulse beneath it, frantic andalive—alive becauseIlet her be.
“You feel that? That little drumbeat inside you?” I hissed, dragging my hand down her throat, just enough pressure toremind her whoownedit. “It’s mine. Every breath, every fucking heartbeat—it’s all mine.”
Her lips parted, but no sound came. Not a scream, not a plea—just the helpless quiver of a trapped animal. God I could almosttasteher fear, metallic and electric, fueling the storm inside me.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled the bottle free, its dark glass gleaming like a secret under the dim light. Her eyes darted to it, her body flinching before she even knew what it meant. Recognition flared, though—oh, she knew. She fuckingknew.
“Remember this?” I purred, holding it between us, the weight of it like a loaded gun. “Yeah, you do. You thought you could leave it all behind, leave me behind. But you don’t walk away from this, Millie. You don’t walk away fromme.”
She thrashed then, wild and furious, her body twisting against mine as if she thought she could break free. I let her struggle, let her fight until her strength ebbed into trembling desperation. It made pinning her back against the wall that muchsweeter.
I slammed her into it hard enough to rattle her bones, my hands digging into her waist, holding her there like she was some fragile, breakable thing I could shatter on a whim. Her breath hitched, her chest heaving, and I pressed closer, drowning in the chaos of her fear and fury.
She looked up at me, eyes wide, wild with terror. She was scared. So scared. And itthrilledme. Her desperation was beautiful, almostpoetic.
I let my lips curl into a smile, one that was far too dark, far too knowing. “It’s not playtime yet, Millie,” I whispered, my voice low and filled with something almost sweet in its darkness.
Her eyes darted to the side, as if searching for a way out, some escape she could take, but there was no way out.Notanymore. I could see the realization hitting her slowly, like a tightening noose around her neck.
“I’ve given you plenty of time to play your little games,” I continued, my voice dark, slow, dripping with malice. “But you don’t get to run away from me. Not now. Not ever.”
Her breath hitched. Her pulse raced. Good. I liked seeing her like this—so close, yet so far from escaping. The air between us thickened, saturated with tension, fear, and something far moreintimate. Her eyes locked onto the bottle, her pupils dilating as she understood the weight of what was coming.
I twisted the cap off slowly, savoring the moment. I could see her trying to gather her strength, trying to resist. It was adorable, really—her attempt to hold on to something,anything. But this was always inevitable. The moment would come, as it always did, and she would slip away into the dark dreamscape I’d made for her. The place where onlyIexisted.
I brought the bottle closer, the rubber mask attached to it hovering just above her trembling lips. “You should’ve known, Amelia,” I whispered, my voice low and thick with excitement. “You should’ve known I would come for you. That I’d find a way back.”