"But only if you want to."
***
Elsa’s hands found his tie and loosened it. Next, her fingers released each of the buttons on his shirt and tugged it off his back, along with his pants. As he stood naked before her, it seemed she had done more than just strip away his clothing. She had stripped away all the pretenses that he had worked so many years to build up. His hard, uncaring façade was now at his feet next to his clothing.
The dream of her murderous intentions was still fresh in his mind but her warm hands, calming touch and peaceful demeanor slowly eased his tension. He had fallen asleep at work and woken in a panicked sweat. It was because of his meeting with Anthony. It never failed that after speaking with him or seeing him face-to-face, his dreams would be tortured in some form or another.
But not anymore. Never again would he let Anthony affect him the way he had.
Anyway, he had plenty more demons to contend with and the knowledge that a serial killer was his father would just have to take a backseat. He had to get his mind right. It would be a long journey and one that he didn’t even know would be successful, but the way Elsa was looking at him so trustingly, he knew he wanted to get his shit together. Not just for her, but for himself. He was tired of living his life like this. Feeling guilty, feeling angry, feeling disgusted with himself… How long could a person go on living like that?
With Elsa snuggled up next to him, she reached a hand up to finger the scar under his chin. He winced at the unfamiliar sensation. No one had ever been allowed to touch that part of him, let alone question how it came to be. No one had been inside his head the way she had been either. Then again, he hadn’t really had a choice in the matter. Not really. He may have made the decision to give up his secrets, but it was done out of fear of losing her. And she had gotten inside his head out sheer stubbornness and morbid curiosity.
As she continued to run her fingertip along the line of his jaw, he could feel that dark part of himself itching beneath his skin. It wanted out. It wanted to push her limits and to fuck her painfully. It wanted to make her question her own sanity the way he questioned his own. It demanded she pay for forcing him to give up that part of himself that he had been protecting for so long.
As the gears turned in his head, her breathing deepened and within a few minutes, sleep found her.
Unable to rest, he crawled out of bed and did the thing that had become like second nature.
No matter how much I want to change, there will always be darkness lingering within me. That sort of personality trait doesn’t just manifest itself magically. It’s been there all along. Finding out who my father was and my experience with Chapter One only ignited the spark that lead to revealing my true self. And who am I really? Victor Laurenzo or Mr. Black? Both?
I wish I could go back in time and read the journals I wrote as a teenager. Maybe they would reveal something. Maybe they would remind me of what had once been good in me. I’ll never be able to see those written words again. Not on paper or in my head. I can thank my mother for that for having destroyed them. My experiences have changed me in a way that I can never go back to the man I once was and there’s no use in pretending like I can, so perhaps it’s for the best.
The textbook words of what a sociopath looks like can’t be denied. Charming. Delusional. Never wrong. No empathy. Plays the victim. Lies and cheats. Twists words. Has to win. Gaslighting.
Writing the words makes me sick beyond reproach. I’ve always used my charm to gain women’s trust. I’ve been delusional as to what his intentions are with my Chapters. I rarely admit to being wrong. I’ve treated my Chapters cruelly without empathy as to how I’ve made them feel. I’ve lied and cheated to get my way more times than I can count. I twist people’s words to fit my own purposes. My need to win has outshone all logic. The game my mother created and I’ve perfected is proof of that.
And gaslighting. I’ve been using psychological means to manipulate my Chapters into questioning their own sanity since the very beginning.
I am a textbook sociopath.
Or am I? I’ve never played the victim. Even though to some I might seem like one because of my past, I’ve never considered myself one. I’m simply the product of shitty circumstances and tainted DNA. I’ve also never done anything criminal, and I’m sure as hell not antisocial. Although what I’ve done to my Chapters is questionable and unethical, I don’t lack a sense of moral responsibility or social conscience. I know what I did was wrong. And I am remorseful .
26: Confronted
When Elsa woke the next morning, Victor was already gone, but the scent of aftershave and soap lingered in the air. A quick glance at the nightstand revealed a note.
I can’t spend another minute getting over hurting you. I need your forgiveness to move forward.
-V
Her heart nearly seized in her chest. Victor was pushing his way back into her heart. What had changed? Was this part of his game? It didn’t feel like it but she was so afraid to give her heart to him again. She couldn’t just hand it over like she did before. What if he let her down? What if he hurt her again?
She reached for her phone and dialed his number, but was sent to voicemail. Sending a text seemed too impersonal to respond to such a simple, heartfelt note.
When she arrived to work, she was shocked to find her mother waiting in her office. She looked terrible. Like she hadn’t slept. Like she was scared for her daughter’s life. Elsa immediately rushed to her and wrapped her arms around her.
“You shouldn’t have come, Mom.”
“Call it an intervention,” she gripped Elsa by the shoulders.
A genuine laugh slipped past her lips. “I don’t need an intervention. I just need you to try and understand where I’m coming from. I know you’re worried…”
“Worried is an understatement, El. How could you go back to him after what he put you through?”
Elsa looked away. She couldn’t bear to see the doubt in her mother’s eyes. She didn’t even know the whole story. She hadn’t even seen the scars. And she never would. The only person other than Victor who had seen them was Nate, and she had lied to him about how she had gotten them.
“Why didn’t you call sooner after being attacked?” Her mother demanded.
“I didn’t want to frighten you. And I’m fine.”
“This is insane,” her mother began chewing her bottom lip as her eyes welled up with tears.
Elsa pulled a chair out for her mom to sit in. “I know you hate Victor, but he saved my life that night. He fought for me.”
Her mother’s gaze sharpened and a look of pure rage flashed across her attractive, aged face. “What is it that man has over you to make you so blind?”
Elsa gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to speak in anger to her mother, but it really was none of her business. She was a grown woman.
“Is the sex that amazing, El? My God. You can find another lover. You’re smart and beautiful…”
“Seriously, Mom, just stop. It’s not about that.” How could she explain to her mom that what Victor gave her was a sense of power by controlling her? She wouldn’t understand. “I found another lover and look what he turned out to be - indifferent and cold. He asked for my hand in marriage and he didn’t even love me,” she swallowed a sob.
“Of course he did.”
“No, he didn’t. He admitted it.”
Her mother sat silently contemplating her admission. “Fine. Not Nathan. But why Victor? That man…” she tried to find the words as she looked around the room for divine inspiration. “Please, Elsa. Not him. That attack… I just know it has something to do with him. It’s too much of a coincidence,” tears streamed down her cheeks.