Page 57 of The Darkness is Calling

Until this woman, who is destroying me without even realizing what she is doing.

The moment I see our blood staining her throat and the marks that will become more visible, a strange feeling, almost painful, makes my heart beat harder when I realize I’ve hurt her.

What the fuck is this?

I bring my bloody palm to my chest and touch the place from which my heart is sending these foreign emotions.

I assume it is because of her, because there is no way my brain is this broken.

“You got your shirt dirty,” she says quietly, making me look into her eyes again.

She is sad.

Even now, she is not frightened, but the pain written across her face only makes my own pain sharper.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you,” I say, looking again at her throat. “I’ll let you wash. I’ll shower in your room.”

I move to leave, but I hear her speak softly, probably because of her injured throat.

“Are you coming back, or are you staying there?”

I turn halfway toward her.

In less than a minute, I have offered her an apology, asked for forgiveness, and now... am I going to ask permission?

I’ve never done that.

“Would you want me to come back?”

For the first time, hope is almost tangible in my voice.

No matter how fiercely the voices have made me give in at certain moments, they have never fought me as viciously as they did today. And I managed to win and not hurt Katya more than I could repair.

So yes, she remains the only one who gives me that inner peace I would stay in forever.

“It’s your room. It’s normal for you to sleep here. If someone should leave, it should be me.”

“You don’t understand, do you?” I say bitterly, a crease between my brows. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“But one day I’ll have to. Tomorrow, I move back to my room.”

I tense.

“I know,” I say a little too sharply, irritated that my three days have already passed and I no longer want to force her to do anything she doesn’t want.

But my voice softens immediately.

“We still have tonight.”

She nods slowly.

“Then wait a little while I clean up, and then you can shower.”

I take off my jacket and begin undoing the buttons of my vest and shirt.

“What are you doing?” Her voice sounds as if she is scolding me, but her eyes tell another story.

“Getting ready to shower so I don’t waste time,” I explain as simply as I can.