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⊰ 24.5 | 1 ⊱ The Truth She Holds
⊰ Marcel ⊱
The parlor is quiet, the only sound the soft clink of ice against glass as I take another sip of my scotch. It’s been a day since my confrontation with Mercy, her words echoing in my head, haunting me.
“I’m tired, Marcel. Of all of this. Of you.”
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing her, that with each passing day, she’s slipping further away from me. I’d always thought that as long as I kept her safe, I’d never lose her. But now, I’m starting to realize that by distancing myself, by trying to protect her from the darkness inside me, I’ve only pushed her further away.
The irony isn’t lost on me. In trying to spare her from my pain, I’ve caused her even more.
How do I fix this?
Am I supposed to just bare my soul to her? Am I supposed to tell her that sometimes I get off on sitting here and thinking about all the ways I want to torture Luciano? What if she’s repulsed at hearing what goes throu
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