She had never felt such an intense ache and she didn’t know how to cope with it except to try and pretend like it wasn’t there. She inhaled slowly through her nose and blew it out her mouth. There was no pretending. The pain was there and lingering like an unwanted lover.
Wobbling to the bathroom, she peeled the damp linen from her back and dry heaved from the flash of heat that traveled down the back of her legs. Her back was glistening with salve, but the sight of the raised and welted lashings across her pale skin was so shocking, her brain immediately shut down and refused to accept what it was seeing. How could Victor have done this to her?
She kneeled in front of the toilet and dry heaved and when she did, she grunted loudly. The movement from arching her back nearly sent her into the darkness again. She gripped the sides of the toilet seat and slowed her breathing as she tried to envision a young and hopeful Victor in love. It made no difference to her who the woman was, just that he had loved.
It took her nearly fifteen minutes to find the nerve to stand, but she did. Descending the stairs gingerly, she found a note on the table.
We’re finished. Gather all of your things. You’re free to leave.
Elsa sank into the chair and hid her face in her hands. It couldn’t be over. Not after what he had done to her. She accepted his punishment and now he was just going to dismiss her? Hadn’t she done everything he had asked of her? Hadn’t she played his game by his rules?
She glanced out the window to see the sun still up and looked at the clock on the far back wall of the kitchen. It wasn’t even 2:00 p.m. yet and it felt like an entire day had passed.
Moving slowly throughout the house, she packed the few items she had brought into the same box that had been hidden on a top shelf in the bedroom closet. As physically painful as it was, she dressed and waited. She had to see Victor one last time to plead her case before she allowed him to send her away.
Nearly two hours passed when she heard the click of the lock and felt the warm, damp air rush in along with the scent of cigarette and bergamot. Her body ached for Victor’s gentle touch and she dreamed of being crushed in his embrace. She kept her eyes forward and her hands in her lap, waiting until he showed himself in front of her.
“I told you that you were free to leave,” she heard from behind her.
“I wanted to hear you say it, not read it on a note,” she peeked over her shoulder.
His brows drew together and his voice was hoarse with frustration, “Then listen closely: you’re free to leave.”
She shifted uncomfortably on the lounger, disappointed, but undeterred. She sat motionless until he finally seated himself at the table, leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him.
His dark eyebrows slanted in a frown. “What are you waiting for?”
She could see that he was trying to distance himself by acting unaffected. When she noticed the newly developed dark circles under his eyes and realized he had already grieved her loss, a sudden sense of urgency drove her.
“I once told you that it takes a special kind of man to guide and lead a woman. Do you remember that?”
He nodded but remained stoic.
She rose from the chaise and moved directly in front of him. “You have it within you to do that, Victor. Can’t you see that?” she stared at him longingly, trying to convey her need for him. “You’re not your mother or your father. What happened with Chapter One was sad and beautiful, but you are your own man; strong and admirable and fucked up like the rest of us.”
His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. “You’re not fucked-up, Elsa.”
“I am. We all are, in our own ways. I love all the fucked-up sides of you. Even Mr. Black…”
He abruptly pushed his chair back with a disgusted look on his face. “Don’t you dare tell me that you love me.”
“Please, let me love you. Let me help you, Victor.”
She reached for him but he batted her hand away. “That’s Mr. Black, remember? I’m MR. BLACK.”
“No, you’re not just that blackened soul of a person you think you are. You’re both and I can accept both.”
He jumped up and glared down at her. “Shut the hell up! What do you know about me? You only know what I’ve allowed you to know. You think those journals and case studies told you everything there is to know about me? They don’t! You think you love me because I’ve manipulated you into believing that you do. That’s what I do, Elsa. I bend and manipulate people’s will, mind and bodies into what I want them to be. I do it at work and I do it for fun. You’re my plaything, Elsa, nothing more!”
She could feel the tears building and her back throbbed with each subtle movement, but she held her composure and kept her eyes riveted on him. “Another lie in your game, only this time, you’re lying to yourself. I know who you are. You can push me away, Victor, but I’ll never stop loving you.”
“I don’t want to be the man you want. Not like that. And I’ll never be the man you need me to be.” The steely, cold edge to his voice softened and he sank back into the chair.
“Only you believe that. People can change. I’ve seen it. I’ve experienced it.”
His voice dropped an octave and his brows drew together. “No one ever changes.”
Refusing to make eye contact, he looked past her and out the window. At that moment she saw all his emotion pool at his feet as he began to let her go, bit-by-bit.
As she stood waiting for what seemed like an eternity for him to acknowledge her, he only stared blankly out that damned window. She let out a pitiful sob when the realization and truth of his words slowly took a hold of her. There was no getting through to him. She had allowed him to beat, use and abuse her, and still… there was no breaking down his walls. He had once said that this wasn’t going to end well and he really meant it.
How could this be? How could she have been so wrong about him? She had been wrong about Patrick and so many others, and now Victor. She was a damned fool. No, she was an ignorant fucking bitch. At that moment, she hated herself for having allowed Mr. Black to do the things he did to her.
Her body ached, her legs began to weaken, and a pain like no other she had ever felt, clutched her heart. He was really finished with her. All of a sudden she felt empathy for all the other Chapters who came before her, knowing this is how they must have felt when he callously dismissed them, too.
Unhurriedly, she walked away and reached behind the chaise, picking up the box of her things he had demanded she remove from the house. On top were the keys to both his house and the brownstone. She placed them inside the music box that had been on the nightstand and set it on the table in front of him.
“This used to bring me peace when I was a child. I hope you find peace, too, someday, Victor. You deserve it…” she touched the warm flesh of his arm. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
His eyes turned glassy but he still looked past her, ignoring her statement.
Clutching her box of mementos, she turned to walk out the door. When she reached the entryway, Victor’s words came out strained. “I decide when this is over, Elsa. My house, my rules, remember? This isn’t over until I say otherwise.”
Confused, she shook her head. He had just told her to leave. “You said we were finished. You just told me I was free to leave.”
A look of tired sadness passed over his features. “I changed my mind. I’m allowed to do that. My house. My rules,” he repeated for the umpteenth time.
Since he couldn’t make up his mind, she would make it up for him because she was never going to allow him to treat her the way he had, not ever again. Trying to swallow the lump that lingered in her throat, she forced herself to speak.