She pushed the comforter aside and sat up to try and reassure him. "It was just a dream."

"Maybe. Or maybe it was my gut instincts trying to warn me." He leaned forward, the shadow of his silhouette revealing his tired features and mouth thinned in displeasure. "Have I hurt you so badly that you hate me enough to want me dead?"

"I don't hate you."

A hush fell over them. The kind that made her nerves prickle with anticipation and dread. Even though she couldn't see him, she could feel his cynicism and doubt washing over her in waves.

"You should hate me. I've given you every reason to, so why the hell don't you?"

"I suppose, but people hate for different reasons. We’ve both done horrible things to each other… "

"You're going to sit there and tell me you don't hate what I've done to you?" He ground out in disbelief, cutting off her statement.

"That's a different question all together." Wakefulness had now fully taken a hold of her. "Of course I hate Mr. Black's actions, but I don't hate you, Victor, and that is who I'm speaking with, isn't it?"

"Victor, Mr. Black... Same Goddamn difference. I’m sick and fucking tired of trying to discern who’s who. Even you can’t decide if we’re one or two people. But just to entertain the ridiculous assertion that we are two separate entities, do you hate Mr. Black enough to want him dead?"

Perilously close to tears, the words that threatened to choke the breath out of her spilled out. "Since I can't have one without the other, and seeing as I clearly need Victor, it wouldn't make a whole helluva lot of sense to want Mr. Black dead, would it?"

She sat in silent anguish, hating herself for admitting her feelings. Hugging her body, she pulled her knees up to her chin to try and make herself as small as possible.

His body stiffened and the air around them crackled with tension. "You need me?"

The angst and fear in his question resonated through his softly spoken words and Elsa prepared herself for the inevitable: a cold, detached stare followed by his emotional and physical withdrawal. Shrugging, she moved toward the edge of the bed, ready to save him the trouble of having to dismiss her.

"You don't have to say it. I know what comes next."

In one beat of her heart, he was next to her, his arms encircling her and drawing her close. With a hand fisted in her hair, he pulled her head back, finally giving her a chance to look into the most devastating green eyes she had ever seen.

"You're free to leave..."

And there it was.

"But only if you want to."

***

Elsa’s hands found his tie and loosened it. Next, her fingers released each of the buttons on his shirt and tugged it off his back, along with his pants. As he stood naked before her, it seemed she had done more than just strip away his clothing. She had stripped away all the pretenses that he had worked so many years to build up. His hard, uncaring façade was now at his feet next to his clothing.

The dream of her murderous intentions was still fresh in his mind but her warm hands, calming touch and peaceful demeanor slowly eased his tension. He had fallen asleep at work and woken in a panicked sweat. It was because of his meeting with Anthony. It never failed that after speaking with him or seeing him face-to-face, his dreams would be tortured in some form or another.

But not anymore. Never again would he let Anthony affect him the way he had.

Anyway, he had plenty more demons to contend with and the knowledge that a serial killer was his father would just have to take a backseat. He had to get his mind right. It would be a long journey and one that he didn’t even know would be successful, but the way Elsa was looking at him so trustingly, he knew he wanted to get his shit together. Not just for her, but for himself. He was tired of living his life like this. Feeling guilty, feeling angry, feeling disgusted with himself… How long could a person go on living like that?

With Elsa snuggled up next to him, she reached a hand up to finger the scar under his chin. He winced at the unfamiliar sensation. No one had ever been allowed to touch that part of him, let alone question how it came to be. No one had been inside his head the way she had been either. Then again, he hadn’t really had a choice in the matter. Not really. He may have made the decision to give up his secrets, but it was done out of fear of losing her. And she had gotten inside his head out sheer stubbornness and morbid curiosity.

As she continued to run her fingertip along the line of his jaw, he could feel that dark part of himself itching beneath his skin. It wanted out. It wanted to push her limits and to fuck her painfully. It wanted to make her question her own sanity the way he questioned his own. It demanded she pay for forcing him to give up that part of himself that he had been protecting for so long.

As the gears turned in his head, her breathing deepened and within a few minutes, sleep found her.

Unable to rest, he crawled out of bed and did the thing that had become like second nature.

No matter how much I want to change, there will always be darkness lingering within me. That sort of personality trait doesn’t just manifest itself magically. It’s been there all along. Finding out who my father was and my experience with Chapter One only ignited the spark that lead to revealing my true self. And who am I really? Victor Laurenzo or Mr. Black? Both?

I wish I could go back in time and read the journals I wrote as a teenager. Maybe they would reveal something. Maybe they would remind me of what had once been good in me. I’ll never be able to see those written words again. Not on paper or in my head. I can thank my mother for that for having destroyed them. My experiences have changed me in a way that I can never go back to the man I once was and there’s no use in pretending like I can, so perhaps it’s for the best.

The textbook words of what a sociopath looks like can’t be denied. Charming. Delusional. Never wrong. No empathy. Plays the victim. Lies and cheats. Twists words. Has to win. Gaslighting.

Writing the words makes me sick beyond reproach. I’ve always used my charm to gain women’s trust. I’ve been delusional as to what his intentions are with my Chapters. I rarely admit to being wrong. I’ve treated my Chapters cruelly without empathy as to how I’ve made them feel. I’ve lied and cheated to get my way more times than I can count. I twist people’s words to fit my own purposes. My need to win has outshone all logic. The game my mother created and I’ve perfected is proof of that.

And gaslighting. I’ve been using psychological means to manipulate my Chapters into questioning their own sanity since the very beginning.

I am a textbook sociopath.

Or am I? I’ve never played the victim. Even though to some I might seem like one because of my past, I’ve never considered myself one. I’m simply the product of shitty circumstances and tainted DNA. I’ve also never done anything criminal, and I’m sure as hell not antisocial. Although what I’ve done to my Chapters is questionable and unethical, I don’t lack a sense of moral responsibility or social conscience. I know what I did was wrong. And I am remorseful .

26: Confronted

When Elsa woke the next morning, Victor was already gone, but the scent of aftershave and soap lingered in the air. A quick glance at the nightstand revealed a note.

I can’t spend another minute getting over hurting you. I need your forgiveness to move forward.

-V