Page 103 of My Dark Divine
“I’m—”
“I don’t want your apologies,” she cuts in. “I just want to stop hurting. That’s all that’s ever happened in my life, and I’m tired.”
“What if I told you I want nothing more than to make you happy?”
She pauses to think. “You’re so stubborn,” she says finally, a hint of amusement in her voice. “And insane.”
“I’m obsessed,” I correct. “I won’t sugarcoat who I am. You know that better than anyone. But if I say I want this, I mean it, Venetia.”
“And what exactly do you want?” she probes.
“A relationship with you. Stable and?—”
“Healthy?” she chuckles. “That would be impossible.”
“I won’t lie to you like that,” I reply, a smirk in my voice. “I’ve never had a normal relationship with anyone. I’m fucked up as it is and have already ruined whatever purity could’ve blossomed between us. We may never be healthy, but I’m okay with that. I think you are too.”
“I don’t think I’m capable of loving anyone, West. I’ve been through a lot. When I felt the slightest hint of something that resembled love, it wilted and was crushed underhisfoot. He’s the reason for these episodes. Sometimes, they engulf me, leaving me unable to get out of bed for weeks.”
I don’t need to be a genius to figure out who she’s talking about. Everyone knew what kind of person Zayden was after he died—it was the news nobody could stop discussing. He was evil disguised as a charming façade, and I can only imagine what he put Venetia through.
“But I don’t want to talk about it,” she interrupts, attempting to get up, but I tighten my grip, refusing to let her go. “I just... I?—”
“Scared the story will repeat itself?”
She hesitates for a moment longer, then sinks back into me, letting her muscles relax. “You’re nothing like him. I know you won’t do the things he did to me. It’s not about that,” she says. “It’s just that… He turned me into a monster, West. I did things I can’t tell you about—things nobody knows. I’m fucked up because of him, and I can’t ever be the person I wanted to be. If I become obsessed—the only feeling I have in my heart—I lose allboundaries. I will do things I shouldn’t, and I don’t think you’ll like that.”
I think I understand what she means, yet part of me struggles to believe her words. It feels like she mirrors my own experiences. I’ve never truly felt love; it was crushed as soon as it emerged in my youth. Since then, I haven’t been able to feel anything close to it.
Until Venetia. Pure, psychotic obsession. It’s all I feel toward her—a fire so intense, I doubt it can ever be tamed.
“Whatever you did in the past,” I begin, sensing a slight tremor running through her body, “and whatever you’re not ready to share, it doesn’t make you a monster.”
“You don’t understand?—”
“I do. I’ve killed a lot of people in my life, Netia. Framed and tortured many, too. Trust me when I say you’re not a monster. I would know if I saw one.”
A quiet pause stretches between us, a rare moment of calm where my focus is locked on her erratic breathing. She pulls at my T-shirt, letting out a sniffle.
“Before Zayden died, I spent years living in the same condition you found me in,” she murmurs. “Everyone called me lazy, ungrateful. I spent so long believing I didn’t matter, like I was just another problem. But no matter what, I couldn’t stop feeling that way. So...empty.”
“How often do these episodes happen?” I ask, trying to sound calm, even though I’m walking on eggshells. She’s opening up to me, and I don’t want to make things worse. Every question feels like it could trigger something, but I know I need to ask them to help her.
“I became addicted to Xanax, and it helped at first,” she confesses. “But then, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. That scared me, but when we started working together and being in your presence, I was able to push it out of my mind for a while.The toxicity between us kept my focus, and it felt like I was getting better. In a strange way, it felt okay.”
“I’m sorry for what I did,” I blurt out, my voice breaking. “It’s all my fault.”
“No,” she argues. “It’s not. My mind is a fucked-up place, West. It always has been. I’m telling you, I’ve lived like this for years. It never got any better. When I’m in these episodes, I can’t get out of bed, I can’t bring myself to eat. Sleep’s a gift—if it comes.”
“Will you let me take care of you?”
“I’m not sure it’ll ever go away completely,” she admits, her voice fragile. “It’s like I’m doomed to live through these dark moments over and over, only able to quiet my mind with anger for a little while. I don’t know if I’ll ever be free, West. I don’t know if I’ll hurt you again. I’m rotten. Ugly inside.”
“You’re angry because you’re in pain. You lash out to protect the raw wounds, unwilling to let anyone get too close. You shut yourself off, pushing people away, terrified of being hurt again. Me? I’m the same. But even in my own suffering, I promise you—I will never cause you the harm they did.” I pause, nuzzling my nose into her soft hair. “You see the ugliness and rottenness. I see a fierce, beautiful soul fighting against things that would break most people.”
She freezes, letting my words sink in. I mean every single one of them, and even if she can’t believe me now, I’ll do whatever it takes to guide her out of the shadows she’s been trapped in.
“I’ve said a lot of things about you,” she begins, “but I don’t think you’re evil. Not anymore.”
