Page 134 of A Dark Fall
“What else? There’s more, I assume? With people like you, there’s never just one thing, is there? Keep going. The safe stuff, of course—the stuff it’s not dangerous for me to know about. Human trafficking, perhaps?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Oh, so that’s a ridiculous income stream, is it? Sorry—my mistake. But drugs are fine? Selling people poison is fine?”
“You dish poison out too, baby. Only difference is yours comes on a piece of paper with your signature at the bottom.” He flares.
Before another thought enters my head, I bring my hand up and slap him hard across the face. He barely flinches, but my hand stings, and so I know I’ve hit him hard.
Immediately, his eyes soften, remorse seeping into them, but I turn away from him. I can’t look at that. I feel bone-tired, bodily exhausted, a deep, aching tiredness that makes my head feel too heavy for my neck. I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t think I can stomach it.
In the garden, a sparrow sits on the bird feeder and stares back at me with what looks like pity. It looks stronger than I feel. Even its tiny little legs, which normally appear so fragile, look strong compared to how mine feel right now.
“Say something, Alex,” he says.
I sigh and close my eyes. “What’s left to say? I told you to tell me the rest.”
“I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I never wanted to hurt you.”
As I press my eyes shut tighter, I feel the tears squeeze out and down my face.
“Then you should go. Your being here hurts me,” I tell him in a dead voice. When he doesn’t move, I turn to face him, watching as his face twists at the sight of me and my pathetic tears. I use the back of my hand to wipe them away. “I want you to leave now.”
He shakes his head. “Please don’t do this to us again, Alex.”
I want to hiss and snarl at him then. How dare he? “I haven’t done this—you have!” I cry. He doesn’t argue with me as he drops his gaze to the floor. “You were right. You and I don’t work. I can’t be with a man like you—someone who does the things you do. I can’t—”
He moves toward me quickly, his hands on my arms, pulling me into his body, the heat and smell smothering. “All of that was before. But if you give me time, baby, please. I’m working on it. I’ll do whatever I need to do to change for you. To be who you need me to be. But I can’t lose you, Alex. I’m done if I lose you. I told you that.” He has my head in his hands now, eyes searing into mine. “I love you. You love me. We can sort this. Please let me sort this.” His voice is scratched raw, and normally, it would stir my insides into a frenzy, breaking everything else down so I can’t think straight. So all I can think of is him.
But I don’t feel any of that now.
It feels as if there’s nothing to break down. I feel empty. As if he’s taken everything I feel for him and turned it into something else. Something that was never real. Something made of paper or air or nothing.
You know exactly who I am, Alex. You’ve always known.
“No.” I shake my head and push at his body. “I can’t. I can’t love you. I can’t be with you.” I’m not saying it to him, I don’t think; I’m saying it to myself. A warning or an alibi for the pain that will come later.
When he steps back from my body, I feel so bloody cold.
“Youcan’tlove me, or youdon’tlove me?” he asks, eyes glittering and hard. “’Cause those are two completely different things, baby. One of them makes you a coward, and the other makes you a fucking liar.”
Under the weight of his stare, I think about that. I suppose I’m a coward then. A coward like him.
“I don’t know ... it doesn’t matter,” I mutter, looking away from him again, back out the window. I need him to go now. The sooner he leaves, the sooner the pain can really start. The sooner it starts, the sooner it will be over.
“Course it fucking matters,” he growls. “Alex, you’re the woman I waited my whole fucking life for. You’re everything I want.”
Why does he say these things? How am I supposed to hold onto the strength I need to end this when he’s saying things like this? I don’t turn around to see his face because I’m not strong enough for that. I grip onto the sink hard and watch the sheets we made love on this morning blow gently in the wind. They’re stark white with faint pink petals on them. The sparrow from the bird feeder is perched on top of them now and creeps across the top of the line, tentative.
“Please take the envelope with you when you go,” I tell him.
He doesn’t respond, but eventually, I hear the sound of his footsteps going across the slate floor. The sound of him lifting the godforsaken envelope. When I hear him come back toward me and stop, I hold my breath.
“So, this is it this time? You’re gone.”
I can’t decide if it’s a question or not. From somewhere, I find the strength to look at him. His face is ashen, eyes wide and unbarred. He’s so bloody beautiful. Painfully so.
“Did you expect anything else? Once I knew everything. Isn’t it what you said would happen—that I’d run a mile? This is what you meant, isn’t it?”