Chapter 142


    Shame washing over me as all the little bricks of my persona crumble to the ground. He will never look


    at me the way he did. It’s no wonder he changed.


    “I thought maybe if we started at where you came from then we would have an idea of where you


    would go.” Alexies and sits beside me, slowly, carefully, as though he can sense how fragile I am


    feeling. So many things in my head drowning him out. I don’t care where he sits anymore. The real


    danger is facing me in a cardboard box that he has positioned back on the table. The past catching up


    to me once more, and I’m so terrified if I touch even one of those cruddy, mouldy covers that everything


    will turn to dust and I will never recover. I don’t want those memories back.


    He doesn’t seem like a guy who knows he has an edge over me. He isn’t beaming with devious delight.


    He’s acting as though I’ve had a major shock and he’s cing himself and his words around me


    carefully.


    Meanwhile, I just want to burn those damn books and never see them again.


    “I’m sorry, Cam. If I had known that it was all real … I would never have …” he trails off, his words


    heavy and raw, reflecting my emotions and I keep staring at that box. Like some numb illiterate mute


    who has lost all ability tomunicate.


    Afraid to do anything else as my entire being turns to fragile stones that could crumble if I move one


    tiny little bit. I feel like all that is holding me up is theck of air in this room. One little breeze and I will


    topple into a pile of ashes and blow away like the nothing I am.


    I assume he means when he used my past against me to wound me. Truly believing I was lying to him


    about it all, and now he knows I never did. It’s the apology I had been waiting on, yet it doesn’t really


    make me feel any better at all. It means nothing to me now, in the new light of things.


    It all makes sense though. Why he’s so overly aware of standing behind me, changing how he is


    towards me these past weeks. The insight I suspected and know for sure he has. The click, click, click


    as every detail falls into ce.


    Alexi really has been trying to change how he treats me, because maybe, just maybe, he truly cares


    about me, and these books opened his eyes to everything about that little voice in my head. The one


    who tells me I’m not good enough. The story of a lonely, hopeless case who tried to survive at any cost.


    That I keep everyone at a distance because I’m afraid of how people can hurt me.


    “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I’m numb and shocked. I think it’s finally seeing something from my past in


    the flesh. Like somehow, it’s had this strange effect of pping me in the face with a lot of pent up pain.


    I feel traumatised to haveid eyes on something very real, like a portal to my scars I never expected to


    examine again. It’s all fresh once more. The things I left behind and swore would never touch me


    again. All here in myp.


    “It does matter. All of it matters. It’s why you feel the way you do about me. It’s why you''re sitting here


    like this, afraid to believe in me.” His soft tone pulls me to look at him, breaking my connection to that


    box and I shake my head sadly.


    “How can you stand to look at me, knowing what you do? How can you feel anything for the girl you


    read about in those books?” The self-pity oozing, but it’s all I hear as it drowns my head in rushing


    noise. Blotting out what’s happening between us and I’m just caught in the shame from being exposed.


    It’s all that matters now. He knows Cami is not who I am, who I was born. I came from nothing, am


    nothing and will never be worth anything more than nothing. She’s someone I created to mask where I


    came from and nothing about her is true; not the posh upbringing, the high-ss education, and all my


    airs and graces are self-taught. I have had my mask ripped off when I least expected, and by the


    person I never wanted to see behind it.


    It’s the worst feeling in the world.


    He doesn’t just have the bare facts and minor plot to my existence; he has every thought and feeling


    and gritty detail. He has the evil things I thought of doing to Rick in his sleep and the times I plotted to


    make my mother overdose so I could be free. He has the very moments of weakness where I thought


    about picking up one of her needles and blocking life out the way she did. The times I talked myself off


    the ledge of bing another wasted junkie, fucking her life away.


    He has the darkest stupid fantasies of a little girl praying for a brave hero on a big fierce dragon to


    come and burn down the world to save her from her prison. He has it all. It’s like having a massive


    microscope and zing light shone on your deepest darkest depths and exposing them to the world.


    It doesn’t feel good at all.


    “Why would you think I would look at you in any other way than withplete infatuation? You are


    stronger than I ever gave you credit for. You survived, you kept going no matter what was done to you


    and look at you now. You are not even a shadow of where you came from, Cam. You are worlds apart


    from what’s in those books. You are a queen among mere mortals.” Alexi sounds genuine, a strong


    statement, a hint of pride in that husky voice, his words a bit strange for the man he is, but it all feels


    like a fake band-aid to cover my bleeding wounds.


    “It’s all a lie, I am nothing but a shell and a mask,” I repeat robotically. I think I’m in shock, this feeling of


    being stuck in an airless void where emotion is suspended, and I’m detached from everything around


    me. Dreaming.


    ‘Cam …’ Alexi starts but I hush him up.


    “Look at me … really look at me. It’s all fake. It’s makeup and hair dye and expensive clothes and a


    fake ent I practised to death. It’s tricks, smoke and mirrors and false confidence. Nothing else.


    Nothing worthwhile. Nothing real. It’s an act to fool people into thinking I am more than I am.” I get up,


    wrapping myself up again in my arms and pace away from him, but he darts to his feet fast and follows


    me, oozing that hostile aura he wears well. It doesn’t even faze me. He’s not the worst thing in the


    room anymore.


    “That’s bullshit. I didn’t fall for the fake, Cam, I fell for the honesty in you. The person you are when


    someone gives you a chance to open up—I see that now. The parts that were trying to reach out to me


    and show me the real her. I fell for her even when I didn’t want to, and that’s who I see every day.


    That’s who I see now.”


    He follows me around the room even though I try to walk away from him, suddenly penned in and


    ustrophobic and needing to be free of his scrutiny. I dodge him, changing direction several times but


    he is relentless and keeps blocking me.


    “I don’t know who I really am. I’m definitely not who you see. The voice in my head is still that same


    stupid girl who had hopes for something more, someone to save her. That moron girl who was na?ve


    and weak and should have let silly hopes and dreams go to hell.” I cry at him in despair, so mired in


    self-pity and just needing to let it out.


    “I’m trying to save you. I’m trying to give you more. So, it’s not stupid. I’m right here offering hope.” He


    catches my wrist and tugs me gently to face him as I turn to walk off again. Still being cautious even if


    his demeanour is on the more aggressive side.


    “Be real Lexi, how do you go about saving someone like me whose monsters dwell inside her own


    head? I’m beyond saving.”


    You can’t save someone like me.


    “By going back and cutting them down at the source. Help remove them from the shadows of your life


    and free you, for a future where all monsters have to go through me to get to you.” Alexi’s eyes glint


    and his face twists slightly to hint at anger. The more sadistic side of him peeking out in a micro sh to


    show his demonic side. Something in his words stilling me in my tracks.


    “What do you mean? I don’t understand. Cutting them down at their source? How can you do that?”


    His hold on my wrist loosens and he lets my hand drop to my side once more, avoiding eye contact


    immediately and inhales slowly and deliberately. His whole manner changing so swiftly, and I recognise


    the evasive behaviour. I know him well enough to know avoidance and guilt when I see it. The journals


    are not all he hid from me.


    ‘Alexi? What are you talking about?’ My little suspicion radar pings into effect and this time it’s me who


    follows him when he moves away. All thoughts of woe and misery held still as that little drama detector


    in me jumps to high alert. It’s the way he said it. There is something there. That gut feeling of


    foreboding, and I need to know.


    Alexi evades me and paces towards the little unit where we keep the drinks and sses, but I tug at his


    sleeve and stop him in his tracks.


    ‘ALEXI!’ I yell it, this time in frustration, and he stops dead so that I walk into the back of him and jump


    back from our soft collision. Anxiety and anger kindling once more. I can feel his hesitation oozing my


    way.


    “I went to London. He didn’t mail me those books.” It’s the same tone of confession, and for a second


    time my insides flip over and my heart stops in my chest.


    “What?” it’s that knee-jerk reaction of a response and he visibly closes up as he turns to face me.


    Caught out. Shutting down to deadpan when cornered.


    “You went there? You were in that shithole? Why?” It’s an usatory tone, spat at him in response. I


    swallow hard, blood running cold at how much worse this is getting, and slowly I try to sit on the edge


    of the table, my legs turning to jelly and giving way on me. Forgetting about the box and weakening to


    lightheaded, that this night just keeps getting worse.


    I didn’t think it could, and yet he has this great habit of proving me wrong. Alexi in Hackney, in the ce


    I lived. The squalor and shame of that run-down shithole.


    Oh, God.


    Alexi seems restless and paces away as though he too is having a hard time reeling in a reaction or his


    thoughts and feelings. This feels like one very long night ofrge confessions and major traumatic


    events. I want to lie on the floor and die.


    I swear this better be a nightmare and I wake up to find none of it is real…well maybe the first part


    could still be.


    Maybe he thought I went back? I have no clue why he would go there at all. I don’t like it one bit. It’s


    one thing to read about the poverty I existed in, it’s another thing entirely to see it for yourself. Even I


    would never go back to that rat hole. I can’t even imagine what he thought when he walked into that rot


    riddled tiny t in one of the worst areas in the borough, especially after all this time abandoned.


    “I haven’t told you everything … I’m not sure I should.” He walks across the room thenes back


    towards me again, too much nervous energy and he cannot look at me. He is emanating so much


    energy it’s like an instant anxiety trigger, and suddenly I don’t want to know anymore. My instincts are


    telling me it must be worse than the books, worse than him being there. I don’t think my nerves can


    take any of it, but not knowing will be worse, and my head will run riot and twist itself insane with


    questions.


    I don’t want to know but I need to know.


    “I think you owe me a million exnations tonight, Alexi. If you want me to stay, then be honest with


    me! Stop letting this all filter out in a drib-drab motion and just get it over with. I don’t think my nerves


    can take much more. It surely can’t be worse than …” I wave my hand in the air in an epassing


    motion, meaning ‘this, everything’ hoping to God I’m right.


    He throws me a look that says, ‘I bet it can’, and my stomach drops to my toes like a lead weight. Not


    sure what it is he wants to tell me, and suddenly afraid of what could be worse than my past being in


    his possession. Maybe I should have just stayed in the elevator and left after all.


    Alexi walks past me to the kitchen, so I’m left perched on the coffee table withck of mobility, and he


    pulls out a ss to pour himself a drink, motioning with a look to ask if I want one too and I nod.


    Something tells me I need a stiff drink if he thinks it’s bad enough to warrant one.


    Mr cool and controlled has done a bloody runner, and this guy is making me antsy as hell.


    A million things are running through my head and yet I draw a nk on what he could have to tell me


    that’s worse than knowing everything about Lisa. That’s the worst in my eyes. Second is standing in


    that ce.


    I detailed everything, and I mean every single thing I lived through. Rape does not make for good


    reading when written by an eleven-year-old on the verge of aplete breakdown. I bleached my body


    until my skin bled in a bath hot enough to melt my skin. I felt so filthy and used. At eleven I understood


    what had been done to me. I should never have known that kind of thing at such a young age.


    He read that. God … he read it all.


    He saw the where. He stood in a room I described and could envision the scene I set.


    Hees back and hands me something dark on ice and downs his in one go, still standing over me,


    and I can feel the nervous energying off him in droves. Apprehension in his posture and the way


    he moves around before sitting further away so he can look me dead on across the couch.


    Sitting away from me is not a good sign. Alexi needing space is Alexi drumming up the courage to tell


    me something bad; I can feel it. King of invading my space only wants his when he is stressed.


    “I went there when he told me he had those.” He nods towards the box and I avoid looking at it again.


    It’s like a giant ck cloud in the room, and I’m afraid if I set my eyes on it again it will suck me right


    into misery. I want them gone. I can’t function knowing they are so close.


    “He read them … tracked Rick down …” It’s the way he adds it quickly, a strained tone to his voice that


    snaps my attention to his like a hawk.


    Rick!!!


    Why would he want to find him of all people? Even him saying that name leaves a horrible taste in my


    mouth, bile rising in my throat, and I want to scrub that name from his tongue, so he never says it


    again.


    Alexi should never have a connection to that man, not even a verbal one. Those two worlds should


    never collide. As much of a bastard as he is, it was nothingpared to that sadistic freak. Alexi would


    never do the things Rick did.


    “Why? I would never go back to him. Never go anywhere near that ce, not for anything.” It’s an


    automatic response and he just ys with his ss, rolling it so the ice slides about the empty vessel


    and makes a dull clink-clink noise as he does so. He stares at its depths, and I know he is wrestling


    with the right words, a coldnessing over him that is more in keeping with the devil I met so long


    ago, and I shudder at his appearance. He is choosing his words carefully and thinking over his


    approach.


    “Because I asked him to.” That hint of a low growl as Satan Alexi moves into that face, and my mind


    puts two and two together and runs in fright at the conclusion. My insides somersault and a cold


    weakness flushes my entire body instantly. I know the beast in him and all the signs of it being pulled


    out to admit it ate all the vige sheep. I don’t know if I want to know more but I need to.


    I stare at him, stupefied and holding my breath. My heart hammering in my chest and hands trembling


    because a huge part of me already suspects what he is hiding, even if it seems preposterous to normal


    people. Alexi is not normal people, he is Alexi Carrero; I know he has capabilities that are far worse


    than anything I have witnessed him do. His reputation through the years was not built on a myth. I


    know where this is heading, even if I don’t understand why he felt he had to go there and do this.


    “Why did you need to find him, he means nothing to me?” I can barely whisper the words out because


    I’m scared to have him tell me more. Unable to keep looking at him as my trembling makes the ice in


    my ss clink uncontrobly, and I follow Alexi’s example and down the burning liquid in one go.


    Warming my throat and singeing it all the way down to my belly, giving me an instant numb warmth that


    does nothing to calm my insides which have hit a spin cycle on a washing machine. I know what’s


    coming and I don’t know if I can bear for him to say the words.


    Oh, Alexi.


    “Mico said it was guilt, a way to, somehow, take back the things I did to you. Maybe it was, or maybe I


    just couldn’t let any man walk this earth who dared hurt you like that. Someone like him doesn’t


    deserve to breathe and walk around untouched. I wanted to make him suffer the way he made you


    suffer. I wanted to do something besides searching for you endlessly.”


    And there it is. Exactly what I feared. What I knew wasing. The question is, how straightforward


    was it? I know him. He’s not a quick and clean type when he has a vendetta. That sick, twisted bastard


    in him isn’t retiring anytime soon.


    “Oh, my God, what did you do? Alexi, you didn’t need to do anything. He’s my past. Oh, God … I don’t


    know if I want to hear this.” I nch at him, eyes widening as a million thoughts run through my head


    and I cannot help but gawp at him. He is in full-blown Mafia King mode. Deadpan, almost emotionless


    with that slight furrow of a scowl on his hardened face. His eyes paling out as that meaner side of him


    Alexi has done something awful. Worse than a snap of a neck no doubt. It’s all over him. All the signs


    are present.


    “Not as much as I should have.” He looks away, face changing to show something else, but he’s too


    quick to turn from me to hide it and I sit in stony-faced shock. I hate that I know him well enough to


    figure this out, and my mind is struggling toprehend how bad it could have been. He knows no


    limits when ites to cruelty and I’m afraid to dig deeper for specifics.


    “Is he …?” I can’t even say the words. Bile rising in my throat almost choking me, but I have to know if


    he ended it and he’s not chained up somewhere enduring a lifetime of excruciating torture in my name.


    I couldn’t bear that. I’m not Rick. I’m not as cold as Alexi either, even if I used to be.


    “He won’t bother you or any other girl ever again. It’s done.” He jumps to his feet and stalks back to the


    kitchen to pour himself a second drink, obviously to hide whatever warring emotions are on show, and I


    try to absorb what he said. Trying hard not to show anything on the surface to what he just admitted.


    Alexi went after Rick, did whatever he’s hinting at, and now he’s dead. I can summarise that is exactly


    what he means, and he’s admitting to killing for me for a second time. My gut says he isn’t holding back


    on the death part because, in his world, life holds little value. It’s not something shocking or unheard of.


    Sadly, it’s part of his norm to deal with people in this way. Alexi doesn’t see cold-blooded murder the


    way someone outside his world would; killing is just a tool, an epted part of life.


    Someone like Rick is like swatting a fly or running over a toad in the road. It’s nothing to him, so I can


    only guess his aversion to spelling it out properly means he took the long slow route of killing Rick, in


    gruesome painful ways thatsted days. Something he thinks will disgust me.


    This belongs to N?velDrama.Org: ?.


    I don’t even know how to feel about that other than a sense of nothing. Even though I should be


    abhorred, afraid maybe. I should feel something, maybe disgust or shock but I don’t. Not really. Beyond


    the surprise of his confession to all of this.


    Rick deserved to die for all he did.


    There’s more fear in connecting Alexi to the sort of monster in my head who could torture a man than


    knowing that perverted fuck writhed in agony until he took hisst breath.


    I don’t care that a life has been snubbed out.


    I care about seeing Alexi as some cruel and evil being who could do it. Afraid he changes how I look at


    him with a few sentences and I can’t have him give me the sort of details that would do that.


    That’s fucked up.


    There is something truly wrong with me.


    What I do care about is that he took it upon himself to track him down and do something about


    someone who caused me so much pain and misery in my life. Whether it was guilt for how he wronged


    me, or just a need to hurt someone that had inflicted trauma on the person he ims to love. He didn’t


    go after him for anything other than doing it for me.


    Alexi really does love me. In his own fucked up way. Killing Rick was a way of making amends for the


    wrongs he did me or just to ease my suffering and snub out the monsters guing my life.


    Alexi is all about actions and not words, and you cannot get any louder than hunting down and ying


    a pig like Rick for me.


    It’s not a lie, a game, a way to get to me—it’s a truth. I’m watching him now as he pours a drink and


    hides from me because he’s worried my reaction to his confession will be like that of his mother;


    rejection and fear of him. Seeing an unlovable cold murderer. Convinced I will only see a monster, just


    like she did. Crushing his soul, just the way a cold woman did to a child who never deserved it. It


    exins so much about him.


    I suddenly feelpletely overwhelmed. All those floating emotions swirling around me and the ones


    which flood my head and heart are empathy and gratitude. For a misunderstood little boy who shows


    his love in the strangest ways.


    Like hunting down a dog killer and beating his car to death.


    He didn’t tell me this because he wanted to prove anything, other than he’s always cared. He didn’t do


    it to make mee back to him either. He didn’t even tell me until now. He is only telling me because


    he wants honesty. Something we never had the first time around.