“Tell me now...you can—”
“No, I can’t. That curse is mine to bear. I’m being punished. I deserve it for what I’ve done.”
“You’re not—”
“Punished every fucking day of my life, and I don’t deserve to find small pockets of happiness whenever I’m with you. It’s not fair that I have you when she—” He inhaled deep, his breath shaky and contaminated with his sins. “When I saw you again, I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist you. I knew I’d take you, fuck you, and do my best to keep you. And I also knew what would happen if I did.” His arms banded tighter around me, so tight he suffocated me. “I’m so sorry, Olin. So sorry for the past, the present, and the future. I’m sorry you ever fell in love with me. I’m sorry I ever fell in love with you. And I’m sorry for being so fucking weak not to push you away when I had the chance.”
“Gil, let me go.” I scratched at his back, doing my best to get a breath and for him to stop talking such insanity. “Stop.”
His arms loosened but not enough for me to see his eyes. He sniffed, burrowing his face into my hair. “You think you’re helping me...you’re only making it worse. You think you’re saving me...you’re only condemning yourself. I’m not safe, O. I’ve told you that. I’ve tried to make you understand.” He shook me as if this was all my fault. “You’re not safe because of me. And even now, knowing what I know, I’m too fucking weak to push you away.”
I ignored the whispers of worry in my heart and stroked his spine. “It’s okay. I get that—”
“You don’t get anything.”
“If you stopped talking so cryptically I would—”
“No.” He pushed me away, rolling me onto my other side even though I fought to stay facing him. The moment I lay with my back to him, he scooped me into his front, gathering me tight. “I’m the most selfish man alive because I don’t deserve this moment with you. I don’t deserve any moment where I get to be happy while others—” He choked, his voice turning bitter. “I hate that I have you in my arms. I hate that you’ve helped soothe the pain inside me. I hate that I’m greedy enough to keep wanting more, all while I know I’m not worthy. I brought this nightmare upon myself, and I can’t run away from it.”
His entire body wracked with violent belief of his admission. “But do you know what I hate the most? I hate that others are paying for my mistakes. She is paying for my mistakes. And I can’t stop it. I can’t fucking do a goddamn thing about it, and it’s killing me knowing I’ve let her down, let so many people down. Fuck!”
I didn’t speak, waiting for Gil to continue purging, willing him to speak and hopefully remove the festering guilt inside him.
But he didn’t continue.
He didn’t breathe or twitch or gather me closer.
It was as if he’d been possessed by honesty, granted a small window in which to talk, before the alcohol ripped away his coherency and shoved him face first into unconsciousness.
“Gil...” I rubbed his arm around my stomach. “Gil, talk to me.”
He couldn’t go to sleep. Not now. Not after so many confusing, terrible confessions.
Confessions that made no sense and only layered me with a deep-seated terror.
Who was ‘she’? Was he in love with someone else? Was that why he felt guilty with me in his bed when all along he loved another? Who were paying for his mistakes? What mistakes?
“Gil.” I pinched him.
But it was no use.
He was awake but no longer willing to narrate his secrets.
His arms banded tight and possessive. His legs hooked through mine. Our bodies plastered together, head to toe. “Go to sleep, Olin Moss. Go to sleep and forget everything I said. Forget about me. Forget you ever knew a man who would willingly put you in the face of danger all because he was too weak to say no.”
“What danger have you put me in?”
He sighed. And in that sigh, too many things existed.
Too much pain.
Too much history.
Too much unknown.
“I can’t answer that.”
“Is it about the murdered girls? Are you involved...after all?”
He flinched behind me. “Shush. Go to sleep.”
“Gil...”
“Hush.” He clung to me and allowed alcohol to dull his senses.
He might have the cushion of liquor to aid his tattered heartbeats, but I didn’t.
And instead of sleep, we stayed bound and entwined just as dawn arrived.
Both very aware something had happened in the dark.
That we’d broken any hope of a future.
That everything had happened too late.
Chapter Thirty-Four
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
DEATH.
Another murder.
Another girl’s body painted and left in broad daylight, her camouflaged skin turning her invisible to those who sought to save her.
I stood in Gil’s living room, dressed in a fresh skirt and copper blouse, ready to go to work so I didn’t lose my job.
Gil had fallen asleep an hour or so ago.
I hadn’t.
My thoughts had kept me far too busy—the exact opposite of counting sheep. I’d been running in my mind, and utter exhaustion made my limbs heavy as I struggled out of Gil’s entrapment and slipped from his bed.
He’d stayed unconscious and in the enviable slumber of vodka while I’d flittered around dressing and making myself presentable.
I hadn’t consciously decided what tomorrow would bring. I’d allowed the sunshine to warm his warehouse, content to stay in Gil’s cage until he could shed light on the shadows he’d brought into my world.
But the longer he’d slept behind me, the more my fear couldn’t be ignored. He’d tried to tell me something last night. He’d tried to be honest yet couldn’t reveal the full story.
Was it because he himself didn’t know? Or because he had a bigger role to play than I’d imagined?
Moving to his kitchen, I stole a cup of coffee, doing my best to chase away the dregs of fatigue. While sipping on bitter caffeine, I tried to unravel the knots Gil had given me, but the coffee wasn’t strong enough and I didn’t have enough of the pieces.
Whatever he’d told me last night was worthless unless he painted a bigger picture.
And that was why I’d decided to go to work.
I knew he wouldn’t want me to. To be honest, I didn’t want to go either. Being chased yesterday and having someone in my apartment had made me listen to Gil’s warnings.
But I also couldn’t afford to lose my job.
I had my own life to tend to, even if he was intent on destroying his.
Heading into the bathroom with my toothbrush from my overnight bag, I layered it with minty paste and began brushing. While doing the routine task, I swiped on my phone, ready to summon an Uber.
My toothbrush promptly landed in the sink in a splash of green paste.
I clutched my phone, shaking my head as I skimmed the news app that I’d downloaded a few days ago.
I’d wanted to keep track of the murdered girls. Now, I wished I’d kept my head in the sand. Articles and ‘breaking news’ bulletins littered my screen with alerts.
Another girl had been taken.
Another life stolen.
She’d been found in the undergrowth at Moseley Bog Nature Reserve. A small wilderness where families and walkers could explore wooden pathways and soak up the serenity of trees.
I’d walked there myself. I’d found it tranquil and picturesque.
Now, it was a cemetery where an innocent woman had died.
Nausea swiftly gathered. My heart relocated into my mouth as I read:
Another victim was found this morning thanks to a mother and son taking a stroll like they do every morning in their local park. Unlike the recent painted murders, where cleverly camouflaged girls were gagged and bound, rendered silent and tr
apped while they died of exposure and dehydration, this new victim was bled out at a different location while her painted corpse was hidden next to the bog with rushes and bluebells.
I swayed.
Gil had been out till late.
He’d been afraid of what tomorrow would bring.
He’d been muddy and tormented and turned to a bottle for salvation.
Salvation from what?
From murder?
From painting a cadaver?
From being a part of something I’d hoped and prayed he could never do?
My legs gave out, slamming me against the sink as my skin grew clammy with terror.
It couldn’t be.
Gil had been with the police for most of the day.
He wouldn’t have had the time to capture, paint, and kill.
And yet...
He didn’t come home for hours.
He acted as if his life was almost over.
He behaved like someone who’d given in to the worst kind of master.
My sickness swelled and crested, demanding fresh air and answers.
I opened another article, desperate for some hint that no matter the evidence, it couldn’t have been Gil. I wanted the killer to have been apprehended and in custody.
I want all of this to be over.
With icy sweat running down my spine, I found further condemnation.
The police are still calling for help from anyone who might’ve seen someone suspicious last night between the hours of ten p.m. and six a.m. They are following enquires but so far have no leads. However, at least this time, a clue has been left behind. A boot print was found by the body. Size eleven Timberland with all-terrain tread. Please call your local law enforcement if you find footwear relating to this crime.
Fighting the urge to vomit, I stumbled from the bathroom and into Gil’s room where he still slept like the dead. Holding my breath, I fell to my knees by his filthy boots.
The boots he’d kicked off as if he couldn’t stand having them touch him any longer.
The clothing he’d shed like someone would shed a nightmare.
My fingers burned as I hefted the heavy weight of his tan, paint-splattered Timberlands, and turned them upside down.
Please be any other size.
Please!
Size eleven.
Covered in mud.
Smeared in truth.
I bit my lip until I drew blood, scrambling to my feet as fast as I could.
No.
Spinning to face a sleeping Gil, I swallowed back rage and fear.
No.
He’d done so many things.
I’d given him so many excuses.
He was so much more than just this.
No.
My eyes fell on his boots again.
There could be another explanation.
He could’ve gone for a walk after his police interview.
He could’ve needed the silence and tranquillity only a park provided.
He could’ve—
No.
I could be blind.
I could be hopeful.
But I couldn’t be naïve.
I couldn’t trust in the past or in my useless, stupid heart.
He confessed to something...
He admitted he’d made mistakes.
He looked so innocent and harrowed, raked with hardship and sketched with despair. Whatever had happened to him had turned him into something I didn’t want to see.
I didn’t want to believe.
I didn’t want to give up fighting for the Gil I used to love.
But...how could I refute hard evidence?
How could I ignore what my instincts had been whispering all along?
The boy I was in love with had grown into a monster.
A monster who was secretive and sly and asleep before me.
It’s not him!
You’ve already been through this!
You’ve spoken to Justin.
You’ve asked him to his face.
So why did I back away?
Why did I grab my handbag and tiptoe through his warehouse?
Why did my instincts whisper to run, run, run?
I broke my promise and left when he needed me most.
Rain pummelled my clothes as I leapt from Gil’s warehouse and slipped into his hatchback.
I’m sorry.
His keys allowed me to steal his car.
His scent still lingered on my skin.
I’m afraid.
I needed space to think.
To worry.
I need to be alone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
______________________________
Gil
-The Past-
FUNNY HOW LIFE could promise such hope, then snatch it away so quickly.
Funny how a heart could love someone so much even when it could never have them.
I still loved Olin.
But she wasn’t mine.
She could never be mine again.
My love for her didn’t accept that, turning into a vicious, hungry thing.
It gnawed on me every day and crippled me every night.
I wanted it to stop.
I begged it to go away.
But...it only increased.
Drop by drop, I drowned in agony for what I’d lost.
School had ceased being my salvation. Now, the corridors were a tomb rather than a maze I was lost in. A tomb where my heart was condemned to die because I was no longer allowed to love Olin or had the privilege to dream of our future freedom together.
The corridors and classrooms were worse than the whorehouse I lived in. My sins echoed in the gym. My corruption painted the building’s bricks.
I despised it.
I’d had everything taken from me.
Everything.
And still my love continued to bleed me dry.
But in my dark, dismal world, at least the woman who’d granted such loneliness stayed true to her word.
One night.
She’d used me for one night. She’d placed a photo of the girl I loved on a side table while she fucked me raw. And then...when she’d ensured I wasn’t fit to touch anyone else, she’d set me free.
I’d stumbled from her hotel room at four in the morning, bruised, dehydrated, and trembling. Red marks rimmed my wrists from the handcuffs she’d used. Teeth indents tattooed me from where she’d lost control and hurt me.
I felt more exhausted than I ever had in my life, more hurt than any fist my dad could deliver, and more adrift than I ever thought possible.
When Monday rolled around, I couldn’t face Olin.
I couldn’t sit in a classroom with her while our teacher’s scratch marks branded my body. I couldn’t stop the wash of sickness each time I relived how many times Tallup had fucked me and ensured I would never be worthy of Olin again.
I’d gone to our teacher a virgin.
I’d left a monster.
And the gorgeous girl I wanted for my own was now far too good for the likes of me.
I was used and dirty.
Contaminated.
Defiled.
If that wasn’t enough to keep me away, the knowledge that Tallup would ruin Olin’s chances at university were the final nails in my crypt.
Seeing Olin’s pinched and tear-blushed face tore out my heart and left it rotting for eternity. A few days after our ending, she chased me on the field.
Her bag fell from her body, her lips spread in a hopeful hello, she went to launch into my arms with apologies.
Apologies?
Fuck, she’d done nothing wrong.
I had.
I’d betrayed her.
Betrayed our future and our promises.
Holding up my hand, I stopped her from hugging me. My own sadness choked me until I almost broke. My teeth clenched, my stomach roiled, and I teetered on kneeling before her.
I missed her so goddamn much.
But I’d s
old my soul to the devil to save her.
This nightmare was mine to endure, not hers.
I would protect her future by removing myself from it. I’d made a vow as Tallup gagged me, staring at Olin’s picture on the dresser that I would never prevent the girl I loved from living the life she was meant to.
Tallup had agreed to let her go.
I’d paid the price.
But there was still a tax on that payment. A tax of silence. Not one word to the girl I would always love. Not one hint that I still cared.
The only thing I could do while Olin begged me to explain was step back, shake my head, and leave.
That was the second time that I broke Olin’s heart but definitely not the last.
Every day, she sought me out, and every day, I didn’t say a word. I sank deeper and deeper into ice, hoping the glaciers in my eyes would warn her to keep her distance.
In class, I studied her pretty hair while she sat in front of me.
In my mind, I apologised over and over.
In my heart, I screamed. I told her I loved her with every breath. I promised her I always would. I begged her to forgive me.
The only person enjoying my heartbreak was Tallup.
Her tiny smirk hidden beneath her teacher’s tone. Her eyes smug and satisfied.
A love-killer, hope-stealer.
A total fucking succubus to the end.
* * * * *
“Gil! Please.” Olin dashed toward me after school.
A few weeks had passed.
I’d lost weight. I barely slept. I welcomed the beatings my dad gave me now because it was the only way to leech out the pain.
I drove my hands deeper into my jeans pockets, striding faster.
She chased me, catching up as we rounded the corner of the street.
“Gil.” Her hand landed on my arm, her eyes watering, lips thin with stress. “I can’t do this anymore. I need to know why you suddenly don’t want to be with me.” Tears fell, sticking to white cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did...but I love you. I miss you.” She walked into me, pressing her forehead to my chest. “I miss you so much.”
I stepped away, dislodging her hold. “Go home, Olin.”
That was the worst part.
Not being able to walk her home.
Not knowing she was safe.
The Body Painter (Master of Trickery Book 1) Page 39