Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 156796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
His voice broke then.
Literally broke.
Like shattered into a thousand pieces at the truth that Gage likely hadn’t faced in years. It was the single most horrifying thing I’d ever heard, save for the story, because the air was bleeding with this wound.
I wondered why the whole fricking world wasn’t bleeding.
How in the heck Gage was standing there in front of me.
Not quite whole. Not even a lot whole.
Broken.
But still battling through life.
Gage reached forward to brush a tear away with his thumb. He looked at it blankly for a beat, then put it in his mouth, as if he was tasting his pain within my body.
“I protected her against everything in my world,” he continued, voice little more than a rasp. “Everything I could control, which I made sure was almost fucking everything. They went anywhere, they had tails. House was Fort Knox. She got her checkups every fucking month. I was neurotic about that shit, terrified of some illness ripping through her tiny body, something I couldn’t control.” He paused. “Turns out it was an illness that killed her. One I couldn’t control but shoulda noticed. Because if I’d noticed, my little girl would be ten years old right now. She’d be smilin’, doin’ whatever the fuck it is that ten-year-olds do.”
His eyes were faraway, as if he was looking into the future. One not burdened by the horrors of the past.
He physically shook himself, the motion violent and agonizing.
“But she’s not, because the illness she was born out of, what brought her parents together, is ultimately what killed her.”
It was an unnerving thing to have a devilishly attractive man stare at you straight in the eye. It was even more unnerving to have the Devil himself look you in the eye. I still hadn’t gotten used to Gage’s intense and almost violent gaze. But I loved it. Loved what it shook up inside me.
But this wasn’t that.
This was something else entirely.
This was exactly what Nietzsche was talking about when a person stared into the abyss. When the abyss stares back at you.
“Bein’ frank right now, the reason I haven’t told you ’bout this is partly ’cause of your brother,” Gage said, not breaking eye contact, his irises flickering with something that looked like shame. “Also ’cause I haven’t told a fucking soul about it. For much the same reasons you kept quiet about David.”
He twitched then, as if he was going to come forward, snatch me into his arms. I braced for it, needing it. But he didn’t, just stiffened and kept talking.
“’Cause our demons have good ears, and they come runnin’ when we come callin’,” he murmured. “But there’s also another reason. ’Cause even if all of this didn’t scare you enough to run away from me forever, which would be an utter fuckin’ shock, there’s more, and it’s definitely gonna chase you away.” His resolve was firm, as if it was already decided. “This isn’t ’cause I don’t think you can handle the truth, babe. I know you can. This is ’cause I don’t want you to handle this truth. My truth. Didn’t want you finally realizing that you’re lying in bed with a murderer. An addict. A demon wearing a man’s skin.”
I tried to speak, to protest the fact that I wasn’t going to leave him because of an addiction. Certainly not because of his daughter’s death. That was only going to make me hold him tighter.
He didn’t let me protest. Silenced me with a look. Because he wasn’t Gage now. This was the abyss.
“You don’t get to speak until I’m done,” he said. “And you’ll know when I’m fuckin’ done because you won’t wanna speak to me again.”
The certainty in his voice chilled my soul.
“Gage,” I whispered, “there can’t be more.”
His gaze was ice. “Baby, when it comes to horror and pain, there’s always more.”
The words hung between us.
“She was high when she did it. When the mother of my child drowned my baby girl.”
The words hit me like a slap. No, like a punch to the face.
“Don’t know what was goin’ through her mind,” he continued. “Bad junk gave her a bad trip. Bad enough she was convinced our daughter was a demon. Our fuckin’ ten-month-old daughter was a demon. But that’s what junk does, turns angels into demons and then makes the demons think they’re angels.” His fists were clenched. “I was already a demon. To protect my angel, I turned into one. Turned into the Devil to avenge her.” His stare yanked at my insides. “Drowned the mother of my child in the same tub she’d drowned my baby in. Did it the second I found her floating there. After, I took my little girl out, laid her gently in her crib, like she could feel me. Of course she couldn’t. The dead don’t feel anything. The dead aren’t anything.”