When Knight sent me a text saying that he drove Elsa back to the Meet Up, I thought he was fucking with me.
He’s not as vindictive as Nash, but he’s still holding a grudge about how I hugged Reed — and every time I used her against Elsa.
It’s around five when I step into the house. It’s pitch black.
Everyone else left.
The rain is the only sound that can be heard inside the house.
I head upstairs with slow steps. I don’t know why Elsa went to her shrink right after that fucker Nash told her something she didn’t need to know yet, but my instincts tell me it’s not good.
As soon as I walk into the dark room, I hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.
With quiet steps, I stalk to the door and push it open.
A shadow stands in front of the sink.
I hit the switch. White light bathes the bathroom.
Elsa doesn’t squint or move. It’s like she wasn’t even aware that she was standing in a pitch-black bathroom.
She’s scrubbing her hands under the water over and over again. Her expression is serene, peaceful almost.
It’s so similar to her expression.
I hate that expression on Elsa’s face. My Elsa isn’t a washed-up version of someone else.
Elsa is Elsa with her infuriating stubbornness and breakable innocence.
She’s not that woman.
Her hands have become red, which means she must’ve been at it for a while now.
“Elsa,” I call her name.
She doesn’t pay me attention as if I don’t exist. She continues scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing.
At this rate, her hands will bleed.
I step to her side and clutch her arm.
She pushes me away and shoves her hands under the tap again. “They’re dirty. I need to clean them.”
“They’re not dirty, Elsa.” I try to pull her away again, but she squirms free.
I let her. Any type of force will have the exact opposite effect on her.
“I saw you,” she whispers.
“You saw me,” I repeat, unsure where she’s going with this.
“You were chained in the basement. That’s the reason for the scar on your ankle.” Her lower lip trembles and her scrubbing turns more aggressive. “Was it Ma or Dad?”
My left eye twitches.
She remembers.
She finally fucking remembers.
“No. Don’t tell me that,” she blurts. “I think I know. When Jonathan burnt Ethan’s factory down, Dad must’ve kidnapped you as a fuck you to Jonathan. Cole and Xander were taken by mistake, that’s why they were returned almost immediately and the kidnappers never asked for ransom. Ethan didn’t need the money. He only wanted to hit Jonathan where it hurts the most.”
I remain silent. If she remembers, everything else will start making sense.
She’s smart to connect all the dots.
“But it wasn’t Dad who kept you, was it?” Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. “It was Ma. The worst part is, I don’t think you were the first boy that she kept in the basement since Eli’s death. But usually, they’re gone after a day. You’re the only one she kept that long.” A tear slides down her cheek and clings to the teardrop in her upper lip. “You’re the only one she hurt that much.”
My face remains the same. I knew this time would come. I knew Elsa would remember, but hearing her choked tone and watching her trying so hard not to break hurts more than I thought it would.
I want to hold her.
Protect her.
But I doubt she’d let me.
“I’m a carbon copy of her.” She finally stops scrubbing, but her hands remain under the water.
Her eyes meet mine.
Those electric blue, blue eyes.
They’re rimmed with tears and red like she’s been crying since I left her ten years ago.
“How can you look at my face?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“I told you,” I murmur. “You were a ghost.”
“You saw my mother in me that first day at RES, didn’t you?” Her voice cracks as if she doesn’t want to say the words.
I did. And sometimes, I see her when she’s slipping out of her element.
But not once have I mistook her for anyone else.
This is Elsa.
My Elsa.
I’ll fight the fucking ghosts away from her if I have to.
“W-what did Ma do, Aiden?” Her hands and legs shaking. She’s all shaking as if she’s coming down from an adrenaline rush.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t ask questions. Not now.” I pull her wet hands from under the water and cradle them in mine. “I want to feel you, Elsa. I want to engrave myself under your skin as deep as you engraved yourself under mine.”
“How?” She sobs, gasping on the words. “H-how can you want me when I hate myself right now?”
“You can hate yourself, and I’ll still want you, sweetheart.” I tug her into me and grip her by the hips. “I told you I’ll protect you, remember?”
She stares up at me with broken blue eyes.
That look makes me want to rip my heart out and lay it at her feet.
It’s the same look she gave me when she first saw me in her parents’ basement.
And the look she gave me when I last saw her in that fucking house.
It’s her. Not her mother.
Elsa has always been different from the monsters who ruled her life.
She can be them sometimes, but deep down, she didn’t change.
She didn’t become like me.
Using her hips, I push her until her back hits the wall. “I want you. I need you. You’re the only one I’ll ever need.”
“Aiden…” Her wet, reddened hand gets lost in my hair. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“So am I sweetheart.” Because I put her in the middle of a war against Jonathan that we both might lose.
If I end up falling with her, then so fucking be it.
I already decided that Elsa is mine and no one fucks with what’s mine.
“Make me forget,” she whispers, eyes still shining with tears and legs trembling.
I don’t even need an invitation. I yank her dress up and my jeans down. She wraps her legs around me as I thrust inside her.
Fuuuuck.
I can’t and will never get enough of the feeling of being inside her.
It’s a drug dose.
It’s a sense of belonging.
It’s finding a piece of yourself after years of separation.
Elsa is damnation, but she’s also the only fucking thing that makes sense.
The little shaky moans she makes as I thrust into her burst straight to my heart. She’s biting her lower lip like she doesn’t want to let any sound escape.
“Let go,” I grunt near her ear. “You never have to hold back with me.”
“This is so fucked up. This is so wrong.” She grips me tighter with every word.
Even if it’s fucked up and wrong, she still wants me with every fibre in her.
My pace picks up and I hit her sweet spot over and over again.
She cries out, holding on to me for dear life. “Oh, my God, Aiden!”
Her God.
I always loved the sound of that. Being her God is the best gift I could ever receive.
I keep pounding into her until she can no longer breathe, let alone protest. She unravels all around me and I follow soon after.
She falls limp around me, her head hiding in my neck, breathing heavy. I like how she trusts me enough to fall asleep like this all around me.
She doesn’t see me as a threat anymore.
Just like I don’t.
With her still wrapped all around me, I carry her to the bedroom and lay her on the bed. When I straighten up to remove my jacket, she clutches me by the hem of my shirt.
I’m gutted.
I’m fucking gutted by the pleading in her eyes.
I throw the jacket away and slide beside her. She lays her head on my shoulder and wraps both her legs and arms around me.
My Elsa.
She’s mine.
Fucking mine.
And no one will change that.
Not even her.
Her breaths even out, and I think she fell asleep, but then she murmurs, “I love you, Aiden. I think I always have.”
