Page 93 of My Dark Divine
But I can’t bring myself to get up from the fucking bed.
I just can’t get up.
My only hope is that maybe the universe will take pity on me, and I’ll eventually die from the agony I’m enduring—right here, on this bed, covered in sweat, grime, and blood.
I’ll just die, and all my problems will be solved. And West will find someone who can give him the love he needs.
Idon’t remember when he stopped breathing, nor do I recall what I did to him. My gaze drops to the pliers in my hand, examining the bloody tip. I definitely tortured him with these, but the details of the final act are lost to me.
I drop them with a loud thud, stepping back and trying to grasp what the fuck is happening. My nose burns as if I’ve inhaled fire—a searing reminder of the chemicals I’ve been snorting—and my eyes are wet, as though I’ve been crying nonstop. I rub them with my hands, but that only seems to make it worse. The blur before me intensifies, now streaked with crimson.
It has to be blood. Ithasto be.
A suffocating blanket of red, spreading fucking everywhere.
Red, red, red, red.Splashes, dots, lines—I can’t escape it.
When I try to rub the chemical scent away, another cocktail painfully invades my senses—sweat, a metallic tang, and the urine of the man before me.
Fuck. I’m going to throw up.
A cough—a sharp, stabbing pain—rips through my skull, a relentless hammer pounding on my already shattered nerves. Exhaustion clings to me like a shroud, the pain a ceaseless tide, pulling me further into despair. Pills, powder—fleeting illusions of relief. I’m drowning in fucking agony, and I don’t know what to do anymore.
I want it to stop.
I just want it to fuckingstopalready.
The cement wall slams into my back, an impact that sends black spots dancing across my vision. I try to remember who the man in front of me is, but my mind is a swirling vortex of confusion. His mouth hangs open, a dim flicker of hope still shining in his eyes.
That means it hasn’t been long since I finished him.
Breathing is a struggle in this place. My body refuses to cooperate, forcing me to concentrate just to take in a breath of the musty air. I killed someone again, trying to distract myself from the thoughts swirling in my mind, and it worked.
Until now. The job is done, and the thoughts I’ve desperately been avoiding have come rushing back, seeping into my head like whispers repeating the same message over and over. I haven’t seen Venetia in what feels like an eternity. The moment I left her in that room, she became the only thing I could think about.
What she did to me.
What I did to her.
I feel a sickening churn in my stomach as her cries and desperate pleas echo in my mind, playing on a never-ending loop.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I’m so tired of her fucking manipulations. She knows exactly how to get under my skin, and that’s what she was trying to do the last time we spoke—she wanted me to untie her so she could stand on equal ground, ready to hurt me even more.
I couldn’t allow that. Physically, I could do anything to her, but mentally, I was powerless. She was a virus, determined to poison my system with no hope of a cure.
Not even the coke could help me. Once you experience a stronger, more potent high, nothing else measures up. That’s exactly what happened. Everything pales in comparison to the mind games she plays with me. Not a moment goes by without my mind conjuring up excuses for her. It urges me to go back, to find her and apologize for what I did, even though she’s the one who completely fucked everything up.
It’s her fault. All her fucking fault.
But I don’t want to think like that.
How can I? She’s mine. My girl. My little ray of sunshine who broke through the darkness inside me. My stupid fucking brain keeps bringing up memories of the time we shared—especially that night I took her home from that party. I spent the entire night just staring at her as she slept, that pink flush on her cheeks never quite fading. It appeared when I looked at her a certain way or whispered the right words, and I couldn’t stop obsessing over it.
I still can’t stop.
Just a couple of weeks ago, she was so peaceful, so real, so mine. But I haven’t seen her in a long time, and she never called or reached out to me.
