Why does it hurt so much? Aaron is a killer. The fact that he tried to kill me shouldn’t have surprised me. Yet, it hurts. Being on the brink of death hurt. Being choked by the man who became my reality hurt. But what hurt the most is my idiotic surrender to his touch prior that. The stupid belief that he could be a human under those layers of ice.
The tears that fight their way out are a translation of my self-loathing. A feeling I always considered beneath me. Yet, here I am, cursing my foolishness, wanting to rip my disloyal heart out of my chest.
Who the hell is this girl? Mae isn’t an idiot. Mum and Dad didn’t bring me up to surrender to this state.
I jerk up in bed, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms. I won’t fall again. If stoning my heart is what it takes to end this stupidity, then I’ll become heartless.
If I did that from the beginning, if I continued treating Aaron as the despicable sick psycho he is, I wouldn’t be in this red zone. A zone where passion and pain are so strong it’s unbearable.
His intent to kill me is enough reason to make me hate him. For good. I’ll be strong and stop being a smitten fool.
The brown leather peeks from underneath my pillow. I glare at it.
Screw Aaron’s childhood. Who wants to know how a psycho was formed?
Wait. If I study his past, I may figure out how to fight him with his own memories. Maybe I can get powerful information that will allow me to cripple him.
I smile. He deserves every single terror bestowed upon him. He tried to kill me. I won’t be feeling sorry for him anymore. He doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
After a few seconds’ hesitation, I pull the journal from its hideout and pick up from where I left off.
I triggered Arthur again. I took Alexander’s side in an argument about Aaron’s future. It ended up in flames. The brothers almost killed each other. They always tolerated one another, but today was different. Arthur wanted his heir to grow into a heartless monster like he is. Alexander refused to let his nephew slip into this family’s hereditary psychopathy. When I was asked for my opinion, I said, “Let Alexander raise Aaron. He’s a better role model than us.” Alexander gave me a sympathetic smile before leaving. Then I was face to face with Arthur’s murderous aura. If it was visible, it would form a black halo around his whole body. I braced myself to be scolded. To be taken roughly against the desk. Yet, he didn’t move. It’s worse when he doesn’t express his anger. When this last happened, I almost ended up dead.
After a long silence, his words undid me. “The urge to kill you is bigger and stronger than anything I’ve experienced in my whole damn life, Eva. Ever since I knew you, I’m in a constant battle against myself. Even using other women’s blood to not draw yours isn’t helping much. Why are you making it harder by taking someone else’s side? Why do you make me feel like you’re unworthy of my sacrifices? I lost my sister, the only one who understood me, for you. Why can’t I have someone to understand in my son? Why do you have to take that, too?” Arthur fell into that hole again where neither I nor his son can save him. Arthur fought so hard but for how long can he keep up the fight?
I fought the hardest. Over the years, I tried my best to feel for the both of us. I can’t do it anymore. I’m too tired to keep going at this life. I want it to end.
My shaky fingers release the journal, a shadow of a scream forms at the back of my throat.
Oh. God. Aaron is a replica of his father, isn’t he? That explains the vacant look in his eyes when he choked me. He probably wasn’t seeing me at all. It didn’t matter who he kills as long as he breaks the neck between his hands.
Alexander wasn’t able to save his nephew after all. Aaron followed his genes and became a psychopath.
Does that mean he fights it, too? Did I trigger him somehow?