Caught In The Shadow [Jenlisa]

Epilogue 11

I was sound asleep when I heard the pounding on the door. I moaned as I attempted to move all at once. The light coming in through the curtains told me it wasn't yet evening. Jennie hadn't waited long before coming to find me.

I decided further movement was ill advised. My throat was too sore to yell. A strange pinch occurred in my chest. I wanted to see Jennie, but I didn't want to fight with her.

Vivisected. It's the only word I can think of to describe how I'm feeling—vivisected. As though someone has cut me open with a scalpel, the pain not sinking in until the flesh begins to separate and my blood bubbles out. I can hear the crack as my ribs are flayed open. Slowly, my organs, wet and sticky, are pulled out of me one at a time. Until I am hollow. Hollow and yet, in excruciating pain—still alive. Still. Alive.

As I lay unable or unwilling to move with Jennie pounding on my door, it occurred to me: It's always going to hurt. Yes, vivisected had been a very apt word to use.

Loving Jennie was like allowing myself to be peeled open and hollowed out. She made me weak. She made me vulnerable. She made me ache and long and hope for all the things that could never be mine.

The door opened.

"Lisa?" Jennie called out. It was the first time she'd ever used the key I'd given her and I groaned at my own stupidity. That was another thing Jennie made me—stupid.

"I'm in here," I said. Getting choked until unconscious is hard on the vocal chords. I hated the way my heart knocked in my chest. I really wanted to see her. I wanted to tell her I was sorry. Shamefully, I wanted her to see me battered and use it to keep her from screaming at me.

She gasped when she saw me but didn't reach out to touch me.

"What did you do now? I mean, aside from invade my privacy and break my trust? It's been a busy day for you."

I let her words hang in the air between us. What could I say? Finally, she stepped closer and brushed her fingers across my cheek. I hissed.

"Serves you right," she snapped. Beneath the anger I heard concern. "What happened?"

"I picked a fight," I whispered. "You should see the other guy." I laughed and it hurt.

"Is—is the other guy alive?" she asked without inflection.

"Yes," I said just as coldly. "You would ask me, wouldn't you? I'm always killing people for petty reasons." I turned away from her.

"If you came for a fight, don't bother. I surrender." I felt an intense pressure in my chest. "Just go."

"Do you really want me to go?" she asked. There was no emotion in her voice and it scared the fuck out me. Please, don't go. Don't leave me.

"If you're done with me," I said instead.

"Coward," she spat. "You'll take a beating. You'll face men with guns. You'll kill. But God forbid you have to swallow your goddamn pride and apologize for being a nosy little shit."

I sat up fast.

"You think I don't swallow my pride? Fuck you! All I've done for months is swallow my pride. I've apologized ad nauseum. I fuck you when you want to be fucked. I play nice for your friends. I wait for you to come home because I have nothing more to do. You've become my whole life!

"Meanwhile, you're writing about me. You still see me as the woman I was. You still see the killer—beautiful on the outside and hideous on the inside. Why are you with me? Why am I trying so hard to be someone else when all I'll ever be to you is the woman who ruined your life? I follow you around like a love-sick bitch and every day I fight the urge to go back to what I know. There are days when I want to go back to being the person I was because that person couldn't love you. The woman I was would never be this weak!"