and closing my eyes tightly, wanting to deny it, but I can’t. I’m not worthy of her.
She needs to get out. Now.
I’ve already been thinking of reasons to keep her.
There are two days left, but I can’t continue. My Katia is full of happiness; a purity has survived in her that I will taint. I can’t do that to her.
I won’t.
I rise from my desk, feeling a surge of conviction and hating it. I fucking hate who I am. I hate that I’m only capable of breaking and scarring and causing pain.
Feeling the rage coming back, I swipe at the clutter on my desk as I scream in fury, spewing it over the floor, the papers fluttering in the air as if taunting me.
She needs to leave. She needs to go now.
I can’t have her here. I’ll hurt her. I know I will.
“Katia!” I scream her name so loudly it makes my throat feel raw. “Katia!” I yell even louder, anger apparent in my tone. I’ve never called her for like this. I stare at the open door, and when she doesn’t instantly appear, I stomp over the papers and folders now scattered on the floor and grip the door as I swing it open harder, slamming it against the wall and storming toward her room.
It’s not like her not to come when I call. It’s my anger, I nod my head at the thought as I approach her doorway.
For a moment, I think maybe she’s already gone.
Maybe I scared her away. She knew she needed to leave a monster like me.
My heart stops and I nearly topple forward, bracing myself against the wall.
No.
I take in a breath, torn between the pain that just the thought caused me, and the necessity to save her.
I feel torn into two, and I don’t know which side will win. I want to keep her forever. I don’t want to deny these feelings I have for her any longer. But I want to save her beautiful light from my darkness.
I need to let her go.
I take the last few steps with my eyes closed and slowly open them as I walk into her room, half expecting to find it empty, but she’s there.
Kneeling on the floor.
She’s naked, in only my chains and even with a sadness surrounding her, a hint of anger even, she’s perfect in her submission.
“Get dressed, Katia,” I manage to say easily. I need her to leave. Now. Before I lose my resolve.
As she stands I catch a flash of anger in her eyes. A look that verges on disrespectful and it begs me to take her. I want to push her onto the bed and punish her.
But I can’t. In this moment, I have the strength to send her away. And I need to do it now before I lose it. I watch her as she opens the dresser drawer, the sound of it opening is the only noise in the room. I’m on edge and holding on by a thread as she dresses with her eyes shining with tears. But she doesn’t question me. She pulls on her jeans and I grip onto the door, closing my eyes. Hating that I’m doing this. Hating myself and that I’m not good enough to keep her.
“Master?” she asks me.
It breaks my fucking heart to hear her call me that. For the last time.
“Yes?” I answer as she opens a drawer and slips on the clothes she brought here. Simple jeans and a tank top.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks and the anger slips, replaced with something worse. Sadness. She pulls a sweater over her tank top, not looking me in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Master.
It hurts to see her like this. But it’s for her own good.
I ignore her question. I ignore her apology.
“You can go now. I’ll have your things sent to your place tomorrow.”
Katia takes a step back, looking as though I’m going to hurt her.
“You can go.”
“I don’t want to go,” she says, shaking her head with wide eyes.
“You must.”
“Don’t do this.” Her voice is weak. She’s begging me, and I so badly want to submit to her wishes.
“I am not what you need,” I finally admit to her.
“You are-”
“I’m a murderer!” I scream at her, cutting her off. She cowers from the harsh tone. I finally said it; I told her.
“I’ve killed men before, Katia. I’m not a good man.”
She looks up at me with a coldness in her eyes that I’ve never seen. “So have