Page 102 of My Dark Divine
It was a fucking miracle that I remembered how to get back here.
I scared the shit out of Venetia. Despite her understanding and support, I can’t shake off the embarrassment. Strangely, I remember every single word I told her—about the flying dead people in the room and much more nonsense. The time I had the energy to speak was spent apologizing, and she always responded with the same calming reassurance. She never looked ashamed or angry with me. She was scared, yes, but that was all.
Today marks the first day I’m feeling something other than shame, disgust, and agony. It’s the first day I can move a little easier, and the first day she doesn’t have to remind me how to breathe, or else I start choking for no reason.
As selfish as it may sound, I’m grateful Venetia was with me the entire time. Whenever I felt myself slipping back into the void, she was there, bathing me in the warmth of her touch. My ears were always filled with a faint ringing, making it hard to hear clearly, but I was aware enough to catch her voice. The words she whispered convinced me that I was safe, that I was okay.
Not for a single moment did she let me feel alone. Her body was pressed against mine the entire time, and she never pulled away when I twitched and turned from the fever that overtookme. Even while I was asleep for short periods, she went out to buy food, always patient and never angry when I refused to eat.
No matter how much pain I felt, it seemed like I finally found a sense of home. Peaceful and cozy, right here in her presence.
It’s late evening, and the room is cloaked in darkness, except for the glow of the TV illuminating our bed. She turned it on about an hour ago, and we’ve been watching in silence ever since. It’s the same show I found the night before I left her. I doubt there are any other shows on this old piece of shit, so it seems like our only option.
“That’s such a dumb fucking show.” I clear my throat, the rasp of my voice breaking the silence that’s stretched too long. “Bad acting, unrealistic script, and terrible cinematography.”
She snorts and shifts into a more comfortable position, lifting her face from the pillow and pressing her cheek against my chest. “It looks like they’re having fun,” she replies, and I close my eyes, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “I wonder what the budget is. Some of the places they’re filming in look pretty cheap.”
“Twenty bucks and a bottle of vodka is the budget,” I say flatly, and when she laughs, I look down, trying to catch that beautiful smile. It feels like an eternity since I’ve heard her genuine laughter or seen her smile. “I mean, it looks like it.”
“You’re so harsh sometimes.”
“I’m just being honest.”
With a sigh, Venetia grabs the remote and presses the red button. Darkness rushes in, and an unsettling wave of discomfort washes over me as I realize I can no longer see her. The room is silent, save for the distant murmur of the street—people shouting, cars honking—a symphony that feels worlds away from the stillness we’ve managed to carve out.
The same chaos awaits us at home, a storm that will descend upon us the moment we return. I can only imagine how mad ourfathers must be. Venetia has already been gone for three weeks, while I have only been here for one. I doubt either of them worries about us the way normal parents would—about our safety or anything like that. They’re probably more concerned about the meetings we’ve missed and the public opinion they’ve been desperately trying to manage.
“I wish we could stay like this forever.”
For a moment, her body freezes, and I can just make out the contour of her perfect face as she raises her head. “You mean, in a crummy motel, both of us sweaty, dirty, and exhausted?”
I choke out a laugh, a flicker of amusement cutting through me. “Would it sound like a cheesy cliché if I said yes? I don’t need a comfortable place to feel good with you.”
She takes a moment to think, her white teeth gleaming in the dark. “A little, yeah.”
My laughter grows louder, and she sits up, unable to rest on me as my chest shakes. “What I mean is—” I trail off, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t know. I always thought taking time to just be together, to do nothing, didn’t make sense. I thought it was just a way to avoid the obvious.”
“But?” she prompts.
I pause for a moment. “But with you, it feels good. Comfortable. Just… being here, together. Taking time to recover.”
Her silence hangs in the air, but I sense her gaze cutting through the darkness, probing me.
“Sorry. I guess this was pretty terrible for you,” I say, trying to shift the atmosphere by awkwardly infusing humor into my tone. “You don’t have to feel the same way I do.”
“I feel a lot,” she replies calmly. “But not terrible. I just—” She lets out a shaky breath, her head drooping. “I don’t trust either of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m an addict, too.” She scratches her head, a fidgety movement betraying her unease. “I understand you, West. That’s why I know I can’t trust you. I’ve never trusted myself—my addiction always took control. We’re both unreliable. Bad for each other.”
“I know what you mean,” I say. She’s right, and the truth stings more than I care to admit, especially knowing I’d rather fucking die than stay away from her.
“I don’t know what to do,” she murmurs, shaking her head slowly, her voice dipping an octave. “I don’t… I don’t know, West.”
Reaching out, I take her hands in mine, gently guiding her onto me. She scoots closer, shifting into my lap, her arms curling around my waist like roots anchoring themselves—a gesture I’ve noticed she adores. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’d try harder.” I weave my fingers into her hair, matching the soothing touch she’s been giving me all week, feeling her relax with every movement. “I don’t know how to be good, baby girl. I’ve never tried. But I don’t want to keep fucking this up.”
“I don’t want to hurt anymore.” She rubs her cheek against my chest, adjusting into a more comfortable position. “You’ve hurt me, West. We’ve both hurt each other for years—that’s what we do. With you, it feels like I’m trapped in a vast, suffocating space with no way to breathe.”
