Page 66 of Ruin
Need him to admit what he did, who he is, and most importantly,whyhe did it.
I need the confession for my own closure, but also for insurance.
If something goes wrong, if he kills me instead of the other way around, at least there will be evidence.
A recording that might reach the right people might finally give my parents the justice they deserve.
I set up my phone to record, prop it against a lamp where the camera won't be visible, but the microphone will catch everything.
Test the audio quality by speaking from different locations around the room.
It's not perfect, but it's good enough to capture a confession, then I wait.
The gun sits on my coffee table like a black promise.
The collar around my throat feels heavier with each passing minute, a reminder of how thoroughly he's owned me.
The evidence scattered around my living room tells a story of systematic corruption and calculated murder spanning nearly a decade.
I've spent the last year becoming someone strong enough to stand beside a monster.
Tonight, I find out if I'm strong enough to kill one.
Hours pass. I don't turn on the lights as darkness falls, preferring the shadows.
They feel appropriate for what's coming.
I practice what I'll say to him, how I'll get him to confess.
The questions I need answers to before I pull the trigger.
Why my father? Was it just business, or was it personal?
Did you know about me that night? Did you see the light in my room and know you were orphaning a child?
When did you start watching me? How long have you been planning this corruption?
Do you love me, or am I just another victim?
That last question might be the most important, because despite everything—the lies and manipulation and murder—part of me still loves him.
Part of me still wants to curl up in his arms and pretend none of this is real.
That's the part I need to kill first.
Out of nowhere, there’s a knock at my door, soft but insistent.
His voice, muffled through the wood, "Selene? I know you're in there. Your lights are off but your car's in the lot."
Of course he checked.
Of course he knows my habits, my routines, the make and model of my car.
He probably has keys to my apartment, has had them since the beginning.
Another knock, more insistent. "Little wolf? Please open the door. Whatever's wrong, we can fix it."
We. Like we're a team. Partners. Equals.
