I try to hold her still and reason her with my stare, but she still won’t fucking look at me.
Just fucking look at me, Bella.
“Deep breaths, Bella. Don’t look, alright? Just focus on me.”
“No. No!” she screams. “You’re crazy. You’re fucking crazy.”
“I prefer the term ‘artist.’”
She’s shocked. I get it now: this is a lot for her to take in. I’ve kept this side of me hidden from her, so it’s only natural.
Bella blinks and leans back like she’s just been hit. “What is your fucking problem? Why are you here? You left, so you should stay gone.” Each word drips with malice.
I run my tongue over my teeth. I’m telling myself this is a completely normal reaction to have, and once all the bodies are out of sight, she’ll realize that it’s me: her Mickey. The love of her life.
“Go back to bed. I was hoping to finish up without disturbing you.” Another half-truth. I was hoping to kill them without her witnessing all the steps I took to get there. Only after I was done cleaning myself of the pigs’ blood would I wake her so we could drive into the night, pretending I hadn’t just killed her foster dad and brother or that I had “left” her for years.
Bella’s expression turns seething, and she finally looks at me. “Fuck you, Roman. I hate you.”
No, this is wrong.
This is all wrong.
This isn’t how any of this is meant to go.
Shocked. She’s just shocked.
Bella just needs a couple more minutes, and then she’ll run into my arms and ask me to take her away.
“You don’t mean that—"
“Leave. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you here. You’re a monster,” she hisses, not a single doubt in her voice.
I rear back, but I’m never going anywhere again, regardless of what she says. Cupping her cheeks in my hands, I wipe away her tears. “It’s me, Bella. It’s your Mickey.”
Say my name, Bella. Just say my name. I need to hear you say it.
She doesn’t say anything, keeping up her futile attempts at fighting me off, throwing weak punches and kicking her legs like she has every intention of injuring me. “I don’t know who you are anymore,” she growls.
“Bella—Bella, please. It’s me. Mickey. I’m back. I’m going to get you out of here.” My lungs contract, and it’s getting harder to breathe.
No, no, no. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean it.
“You abandoned me!”
I didn’t. I didn’t. I didn’t.
Those fucking letters. If they gave her the letters like they should have, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. This is their fault. Marcus and Greg, the fucking pricks. I wish Greg was still alive so I could kill him all over again, bloodier this time. “I know. And I’m sorry, I—"
“Sorry,” Bella echoes breathily. “Sorry? You’re sorry? Sorry? You don’t get to be sorry! You don’t get to come here and act like everything is alright. Do you know what they did to me? You left me for dead, Roman. You’re a coward. A fucking coward!”
Bella, please. Bella, you have to understand. Bella, fuck—I can’t live without you, Bella.
My skin burns. My lungs burn. My heart burns. I didn’t want to leave her. She’s mine, and I’m hers; that’s all there is to it. Doesn’t she understand that I didn’t want to leave her, and all I’m doing right now is my apology to her for hurting her—us?
Her words sting more than the bullet did. When she cries and pushes me away, it’s like she’s taking a knife and twisting it right through my ribs and into my heart.
It’s like she doesn’t believe me.
It’s like she doesn’t want to believe me.
“I can’t believe I trusted you and gave you all of me. I regret ever laying eyes on you. I regret speaking to you. I regret ever meeting you.”
I feel sick to my fucking stomach. I was wrong. This wasn’t Greg’s or Marcus’s fault; this is my fault. I caused all of this. I’m the reason for her tears and the anguish in her eyes. Even though she doesn’t want me right now, I pull her into a hug. It’s nowhere near enough, but I’m not giving up on her.
“I hate you, Roman. I fucking hate you. You’re the worst thing to happen to me. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
Bella doesn’t mean it. She can’t mean anything she’s spewing in her rage. We’ve been through too much together, and I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life convincing her that she doesn’t hate me.