Page 208 of Once Upon a Fable

I chewed as if I chewed his very essence.

I swallowed as if it was his very life I consumed.

And in a way, it was.

Because a sin like this couldn’t go unforgiven.

Need or no need.

Desire or no desire.

I was done being nice to this heathen.

Swooping to my feet, I clutched my pasta and swept past him.

With each step, the chain clinked behind me, making my blood boil with fury.

But he didn’t stop me.

He didn’t chase.

He merely let me go, knowing we were tethered forever.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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WE SLEPT IN DIFFERENT rooms.

Well, she slept (at least, I assumed she slept). I didn’t.

Now that my brain wasn’t as fractured with a concussion, I found it impossible to sleep anywhere but the dormitory. I was done being unconscious in the library—bed of blankets or not. I craved the ability to close and lock a door. I grew more and more frustrated as midnight ticked over to three a.m. and dawn slowly brought light back into the world.

I didn’t know where she’d gone after leaving me in the kitchen. I hadn’t tried to find her. Partly because my head still hurt like a motherfucker, and mostly because I had a feeling if I pressed her tonight, she’d end up fulfilling the key task for her freedom.

She’d slaughter me with her pasta bowl or murder me with her fork.

I winced all over again at the stark coldness in her eyes. The anger burning in her every extremity. The absolute betrayal and hatred on her beautiful face.

Fuck, it’d hurt.

I hadn’t expected that to affect me. I hadn’t thought I was capable of actually being concerned about the welfare of others. Not now. Not since I’d used up every drop of compassion inside me.

But seeing her loathing me? Feeling her pull away? Watching the door into her heart being slammed firmly in my face had fucking butchered me. I hadn’t realized until that moment just how much I’d grown accustomed to her kindness. How she’d given me something of herselfeven while I’d been a bastard to her. Even when I’d trapped her, smashed her possessions, and made her get on her knees, there’d always been a piece of her that welcomed me.

A piece she wasn’t even aware of possessing. A piece that was so goddamn strong, it withstood my violence, my cruelness, my every twisted desire all because she could see past the mask I’d worn so long. A mask I didn’t even know how to remove anymore. A mask that had turned me into one ofthem.

A self-fulfilling prophecy of the tormented becoming the tormentor. I felt within my right. Fully vindicated to do whatever I damn well pleased because I’d earned it.

I know I have.

I’d sacrificed everything, for Christ’s sake.

So why the hell did I churn with sickening guilt?

Because, unlike you, she hasn’t switched off her empathy.

She’d given me understanding even while granting me forced pleasure. She’d bestowed absolution even as I commanded her against her will.