A condescending half-smile touched his lips. "No, you couldn't have."
"Who's ultimately in control?” she glared at him, putting him on the spot. “You or Mr. Black?"
"We’re one and the same.”
She shook her head. Nothing he ever said would convince her of that. “Who, Victor? Who’s in control?”
Giving her a frustrated look, he sighed. “I am. Me. Victor."
"Are you sure about that?” her voice trembled unintentionally. She needed to know if she was going to continue with this.
"No.”
The misery in his eyes said more about his intentions than any words he had spoken.
She reached over the table and laid her hands on top of his, unable to stop herself. No amount of hurt he had put her through would make her hate Victor. Mr. Black, yes, but not Victor. This man. The one sitting in front of her, exposed and unsure of himself. The one conceding when it wasn’t in his nature. This imperfect man agreeing to abide by her one condition.
Her touch made his body stiffen, but she held his hands tighter. "If you want me to play this game, I need to know you're really the one in control."
Slowly and mechanically, he turned his palms up to take her hands into his.
His eyes roamed over her face, his lips forming some silent word before he spoke, "I’ll do my best to be in control. That’s all I can promise. Nothing more.” He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and shook his head. “Nothing I ever do or say is ever going to make up for what I did to you, is it?"
"That’s an impossible question to answer." And it was. There was no telling the future. She hoped he could make up for it, though she doubted he could. Part of her didn’t want him to even try because all it meant was he would put her at risk of having her heart shredded; something she doubted she could recover from again. And she wasn’t ready for that; there was still too much anger and too many other mingled emotions to deal with, including what she was struggling with in regards to Nate.
He turned his face away from her as if ashamed before standing and lifting her into his arms. “Let’s get you home and warmed up, you silly, petulant little girl.”
***
Readying the bath for Elsa, Victor dipped his fingers under the running water while she undressed. As she folded her clothes and placed them neatly on the counter, he caught a glimpse of the welted scars. He had been doing his best all day to suppress the emotions he was feeling about having been the one to put them there, but seeing them again made him face the ugly truth of his actions.
A question lingered: why hadn’t she brought up the scars earlier? Lashed out at him? Despite his threats, why had she agreed to play his game when he had scarred her even after promising he would never leave irreparable damage? Were his secrets so enticing that she would put all that aside just to learn them? It made no sense, but nothing Elsa ever did was based on logic. Emotions were the gasoline to her fire and she allowed them to control her life.
Seated on the ledge of the tub, he reached out and took a hold of her wrist to pull her to him, but she resisted. Unyielding, he tugged her close and hugged her waist, resting his ear against her breast, listening to the sound of her heart. It was the very one that used to beat only for him. Even if only for a brief time, it had belonged to him.
But he dismissed it – pushed her away out of fear of being made to feel the one emotion he didn’t want again and hurting her in return. What a fucking pathetic thing to do to someone. He had hurt her anyway and far worse than he ever could have imagined.
Easing her down into his lap, he crept his hands up her spine and between her shoulder blades, causing her to wince and try to escape his cradling arms. He wouldn’t allow it. He had to feel them to know they were real. When his fingers skimmed the first one, a gasp escaped her mouth and she pressed her arms against his chest, but still, he refused to let her go.
“I did this,” he whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I did this,” repeated but without emphasis.
“No,” she gritted her teeth. “Mr. Black did.”
He clenched his lids together tightly at the sound of her voice. He was Mr. Black. Fucking hell. Why couldn’t she just accept that?
As if sensing his building frustration, she stood and slipped into the tub, letting the soapy water cover her body. The water sloshed all around her and the only sound in the room was of the running water, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out his thoughts.
He needed space; time to process everything that had happened and what he had agreed to. Leaving her alone in the bathroom, he retreated to his office to pen his thoughts in his personal journal.
What have I agreed to? Where was Mr. Black when I needed him? I say we are one and the same, but the fact is that we are not. Elsa has forced me to accept that. Goddamn her. God bless her. God… there is no God. Only harsh reality. Stark truth. Cruelty all around. Ugliness within. Can I go through with what she is asking of me? Do I have a fucking choice? She sees through my lies – through me. She WILL leave me if I don’t play by her rules. She proved that tonight. When she ran, my brain went blank and I reacted just as impetuously as she did by seeking her out and giving in to her demands.
Hotheaded and irrational, she doesn’t give a shit about the consequences she will face by refusing to play my game. And where does that leave me other than with no choice but to punish her? I’m so close to breaking down her resistance. It’s within reach. I can feel it, but still, there is that piece of her that she won’t give up. Her heart. And why the hell do I care? I know Mr. Black doesn’t. He doesn’t need her heart in order to enjoy the game, so why the fuck do I?
I must remind myself that the game has only begun. It’s only been a few days even though it seems like many and there is plenty of time to see things through.
She’s drawn her line in the sand and insists on the truth. So be it. If it’s the hideous truth she wants, then she’ll get it and we’ll see just how strong she is when she learns the true depravity of a mother’s hatred for her own son. We’ll see just how resilient she is when she learns the lengths to which people will go to crush someone’s spirit and devour their soul. We’ll see if her own spirit can remain intact when everything is said and done. I only hope it can and I pray to a God I don’t believe in, that her light remains a bright torch to guide the dark path ahead of us.
7: Before Darkness
Victor stood outside the Virginia State Penitentiary with the arctic wind blasting against him. It had been a long, difficult year since last facing Anthony. As he walked briskly toward the entrance, his stomach roiled and his head throbbed with an impending migraine. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he had last seen Elsa and given her permission to write out a list of questions. Every hour since that time, he had dreaded his decision, knowing that he would have to answer to her, truthfully, in order to keep her.
As he handed over his ID and badge to the guard, his mind wandered to his own list of rules he had made for her, as well as the mental list of how he wanted to push her limits and break her down. As always, Mr. Black’s imagination was spinning its web and Elsa would be ensnared before long.
Even though it had been over a year since last being at the Virginia Pen, other than a few different faces – nothing had changed. It was still dreary, slightly dirty, and cold. In the interview room, he draped his trench coat over the back of the metal chair and laid out the file he had brought with him – the one with the falsified records of Chapter Nine.