“He killed her,” Mischa hisses. “And I should have killed you. All this time, I thought it was him. Thathewas a sick, twisted piece of shit who got off on causing pain. But why wouldn’t he?”
He tugs harder, turning my face so that my brand is visible. “He hadyou.Fucking him. Moaning in his goddamn ear. Making him feel… Making him feel fucking human.”
The way he growls that word in particular resonates in my bones.Human.
“You talk about Anna, but you want to know what makes her different from you? She wasn’t a cunning little bitch.” He pulls harder. Too hard. I claw at his fingers, desperate for relief, but he’s impervious to my attempts. “If she were here now, she’d want nothing to do with me. She wouldn’t even let me touch her. She’d run. She wouldn’t moan for me. She wouldn’t compare me to her fucking husband. She wouldn’tlookat me—” He breaks off, inhaling raggedly. He has me pinned against the table’s surface, breathing heavily against my throat. “With those fucking eyes. Like you’re daring me to just do it already. Wrap my hands around your fucking throat. Squeeze. Put you out of your goddamn misery. You’re teasing me, aren’t you, you little bitch?” He sounds crazed. Manic. Laughing, he spits out, “You’re taunting me. I’ll never fucking have you.”
He lets me go, backing away while his fingers fist the air. “Run away, Little Rose,” he commands, eyeing me with an unfathomable expression. “Now. Get the fuck out!”
I crouch for my dress, only to stare abjectly at the torn pieces of fabric.
“Here!”
I glance up as Mischa shrugs his own shirt over his head and throws it in my direction. Sweat-soaked fabric lands over my knees as he storms past me. “Maybe I’ll reconsider selling you after all,” he suggests, laughing. “I won’t let you play your mind games with me.”
The walls tremble with every thunderous step he takes as he retreats down the hall. Numb, I sit here, listening to him travel deeper into the house, trying desperately to anticipate his next move. I can still feel his touch, rough and scraping. Searching.
For what? As I crouch on my knees, shock gradually replaces the hold fear has over my lungs. I start laughing too, cringing at the unstable, high-pitched sound.Ha ha ha.Robert could be impulsive when he wanted to be—but even then, I could always predict him. Anticipate him. He liked me meek and pliable, like putty in his hands. Sometimes, he liked it when I put up a fight every now and again.
He never wanted more. He never punished me for not fearing him enough. Fucking him enough. Craving him enough.
Is that what Mischa wants? My blood runs cold as my laughter trails off. I’m shaking, my teeth chattering. Naked, I have no choice but to put his shirt on and hunch beneath the heavy cotton.
He smells so strange: a milieu of nuanced flavors that repulse me and intrigue at the same damn time. When inhaled, they’re too complex to describe. This must be what rage smells like. Raw, incredible anger. Twisted musk. Spiteful sweat.
As twisted as he was, I always knew what Robert wanted from me. How to predict him. How to stay alive, even when he became his most unhinged.
But Mischa? There’s no fucking point in even trying. He’s a storm, changing intensity at his own fucking discretion.
I jump as my own fingers brush my throat, tracing my rapid pulse. He bit me there and the mark stings. Throbs. It’s a warning.
Robert brutally scarred my body, but I was still Ellen in the end. Still me.
Mischa is changing me, and I don’t know who I’ll become when he’s through. Someone twisted enough to want…
More.
Enough.I close my eyes, inhaling as much of the stale air as I can until my lungs fully expand. Then I slowly release the breath and reenter the hallway warily, praying that I don’t run into Vanya. What would he say if he saw me like this?
Do not fear him. He wasn’t always this way…
A flickering shadow draws my notice as I turn into the entryway. Mischa?
The figure lunges before I can be sure. Air whistles past my head, and then…Pain.Darkness rushes me, swallowing my vision. A faraway thud echoes as my vision goes white. It’s like my senses scatter in a million directions. I feel air. Hardness. Coldness.
Then nothing.