“Are you okay?”
“Everything hurts.” Her voice is small, almost girlish.
I’ve never seen her like this. Passive. Afraid. Searching. Actually, that’s not true. I have seen her like this—once before. But she was five at the time. And I’d just murdered her father right in front of her.
Everything hurts. Why do my insides feel like they’re caving in at those words?It shouldn’t matter to me that she’s hurting. Hadn’t I myself given the order to have her killed only a night ago?Hell, I should execute her now and be done with it.
But every cell in my body is screaming at me to do the opposite instead. To protect her. To console her. To keep her safe.
“Come with me,” I tell her gently.
She stares at me for a long time. “I know you,” she says again, as though she’s still trying to figure out. “You’re… you’re a monster?”
The way she says it, it’s like a question. The asshole really did a number on her. A shiver passes down her spine and I can see the hair on her arms standing on end. It’s starting to worry me.
“Renata, come on. We don’t fucking have time for this.”
“You’re going to use me. Like him.”
“I’m nothing like him,” I bite, causing her to shrink back.
“You are,” she says, but her voice is still small, and she sounds like she’s talking to herself. “You’re all alike. All you know is how to cause pain.”
I grab her hand, but surprisingly, she doesn’t shake me off. She just looks at the space where our skin meets as though it’s fascinating to her.
Warmth enters the tips of my fingers and travels through my arms until it reaches my body. I’m getting impatient now. Not with her, but with myself.
I need to get a fucking grip.
“Get on your feet,” I tell her firmly.
When she doesn’t move, I grab her by the shoulders and pull her upright. She stands easily enough, but the color drains from her face almost immediately.
“Renata?”
Her eyes roll and she collapses backwards against the wall.
And that’s when I see it.
There’s blood everywhere...
From the gunshot wound in her stomach.