Page 106 of Secrets of the Brother
I could feel each link pressing against my flesh, tightening around me.
Choking me.
Killing off parts of my soul.
Piece by piece.
My independence.
My freedom.
My sense of self.
I could hear the entireLittle Earthquakesalbum by Tori Amos playing in my head. It was the soundtrack to my breakup with him. My pain, confusion, and insecurities put to music.
I could feel myself falling back into that terrifying place again, where I would have done anything, said anything, been anything he wanted… just to get him back… just to get him to choose me.
Rocking back and forth as I listen to “Tear in Your Hand” over and over and over again while I clutch an old sweater of his that still smells of his cologne to my chest.
His gravitational force was too great. He was a dark star pulling in everything around him. He was right, what he had said in the church, Iwasdrawn to his intoxicating darkness, to his energy. Drawn to the poetic idea of the tarnished, honorable man, the noble enemy, the tortured romantic hero.
I was falling for it. Head over heels. Again.
There were moments when I fought it, but those moments were becoming fewer and farther between.
And wouldn’t that just be a fitting end to our fucked-up fairy tale?
The evil mother and wicked sister getting their comeuppance and the discarded princess and the prince reuniting and living happily ever after?
Except this wasn’t some story in a book, this was mylife.
It had taken me months to claw back my sense of self, my self-respect, my self-worth.
The lonely nights I'd spent gripping an empty wineglass, screaming the final lyrics to the song “Little Earthquakes” at the top of my lungs until the neighbors banged on the walls. Give me… Give me… Give me…
And I wasn’t ready to toss it all out for a man, especially one who had hurt me so badly.
He was literally under investigation for the murder of my sister, and it wasn’t stopping him from trying to manipulate me into marrying him, by getting me pregnant no less. The very same unforgivable trick my family played on him.
Why was what they had done evil, and what he was doing righteous?
Because they were motivated by money and he was motivated by what? Love?
But was it love?
He caressed my cheeks as he stared intently into my eyes. “You don’t mean that. You’re just overwrought because of the inspector’s visit. You don’t need to worry about the investigation. I’m handling it.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled up in my throat. “How could I get upset about something I know nothing about?”
He bared his teeth. “Is that what this bullshit is about? Jesus fucking Christ, Bianca. Did you pull this dangerous stunt,risk your life, because you’re angry I sent you out of the room when the inspector arrived?”
I stayed silent. Let him think that was why.
Let him think this was all just a petulant tantrum. It was safer than the truth.
He pivoted away several steps, running a hand through his hair. He turned back to me. Raised his hand and curled his fingers into a fist, before turning his back on me again. He paced a few steps away, then turned and marched violently back toward me.
He raised his fist and slammed it down on the hood of the Ferrari so hard he dented it. As he did so, he let out a primal roar, like an anguished beast.
