The Nightmare (The Mist #2) - Regine Abel Page 0,24
unless their body dies. There is a fraction of you left in your body in the Mortal Plane. Had the Beast killed you here, only that tiny fragment of you would have remained. You would have technically been brain dead, stuck in a coma that you would never awaken from.”
“You exposed me to true death to play your sick games?!” she said in an accusatory tone, while taking a few steps away from me.
“I created the thrilling experience you crave,” I argued defensively. “How the fuck was I to know you would do something so reckless? You always ran! You’ve always loved being hunted down.”
“I hated it! I hated it then, and I hate it even more now,” she shouted back, taking a menacing step towards me. “I spent two years in therapy to learn to stop being a victim, to learn to block you out. I’ve been at peace for the past nine years, and I’m not falling down that rabbit hole again. You’re done getting your rocks off by terrorizing me.”
Every single one of her words cut me like a blade. I had felt her slipping away from me during those two years. It had been painful. But the last nine years had been sheer agony. She had not called for me, not dreamed of me. I would see her in the distance as she sparked new Wishes that didn’t involve me. I’d been so enraged, felt so betrayed that I’d killed them all.
“I gave you what you wanted,” I said.
“I never wanted to be terrified. You imposed your will on me,” she snapped.
“No, Naima. YOU dictated what happened during our time together,” I countered. “Your conscious mind may have said no, but your subconscious shouted loud and clear that you wanted pain, that you wanted to be punished for destroying your home. But you did not respond well to pain so, I chose to give you terror instead. And that, you couldn’t get enough of.”
Naima gaped at me for a second, and a strange expression crossed her beautiful features. She shook her head and looked at me with discouragement before running her fingers through her puffy, curly hair. It had felt so soft beneath my touch when she rested her head on my shoulder as I consoled her after I’d ‘punished’ her. How I hungered for those moments again.
“Those were the twisted reveries of a heartbroken child,” my woman said in a sad and tired voice. “My parents were constantly fighting. And when they did, it escalated quickly. They never hit each other, but Dad would throw things at the walls, and Mom would break dishes and whatever else she could get her hands on. And whenever it started getting out of hand, one would try to physically stop the other, which usually ended up with Dad pinning Mom against the wall, and Mom trying to bite him to break free. So, he would hold her tightly by the neck until she calmed down.” Naima hugged herself and exhaled a shuddering breath. “Eventually, Mom would break down crying. Dad would then hug her and tell her he loved her, and they would apologize to each other.”
My woman turned her back to me and walked a few steps inside the clearing surrounded by a wall of Mist that we were standing in.
“My parents adored each other, but they just couldn’t live together. They thought having me would help fix their issues, it only made things worse.” She shivered, then turned to face me. “All those years ago, the little girl that sparked you wanted someone to punish her for destroying her parents’ happiness with her complicating presence. But she was wrong. She was never to blame. I was never the cause.”
A part of me had known this but refused to face that truth. Acknowledging it also implied acknowledging that my entire existence had been premised on a lie. I refused to accept that and what it could mean for us going forward. The few hours since I had at long last reconnected with Naima had felt like an eternity. And my addiction with my creator—my obsession even—had returned with a vengeance. I would destroy anything and anyone that would stand in the way of me finally having a life with my bride.
“Is that why you always wanted me to strangle you all those times you wished me to play the slasher-stalker?” I asked, my chest constricting with an unpleasant emotion I didn’t want.