II: We’re all fucking monsters
Joe’s POV
I’m rushing down the stairs that leads to the parking area and finally I reach my car.
I can't wait to leave Maddie’s penthouse, where I shouldn’t have been in the first place.
Maddie’s ring and request for help came at the wrongest time possible.
I left you all alone in the basement, facing all of this. And that’s not what I wished for.
I should have stayed with you, studying every single of your reactions as you interacted with that asshole and jumped to the conclusion that letting me deal with him was the rightest thing to do.
During those endless fifteen minutes I’ve allowed Maddie to avoid a double homicide with fake suicide, the only thing that was giving me solace was seeing that you were still there, Bronte.
But first came the unexpected phone call from Phoebe, realizing it actually was my beloved son… and now I repent for not taking advantage of that to talk a little more with Henry instead of asking him to let me talk with Kate… what she said made my blood boil with fury, that vengeful cunt.
And right after that horrible news… I checked my camera and not only had you let that scumbag go, you had left as well and with you also my mind and heart had gone, in the darkest places possible.
And then I had to watch those two imbeciles displaying their fairytale love in front of me… Fuck, how much can a man bear?
And just when I was sure that nothing could have gone worse, there you go again.
Filling me with hope.
About you.
About us.
Okay, you might have let the prisoner go, but it’s not so unforgivable.
I’m so, so sorry Bronte, for doubting you.
For thinking the unthinkable.
If anything, it’s you who must forgive me.
I promise that I’m going to utterly trust you, Bronte, from now on.
Let’s press the ‘reset’ button together: this is a new start for both.
My thoughts are running almost faster than my car, as it devours the miles that separate me from you.
Finally I’m here.
As I rush to the basement, eager to see you, my heart skips a beat.
There’s blood on the floor.
Oh my god, it’s yours, did that asshole hurt you?
And then, as the stairs diminish I figure out it’s all the complete opposite.
It looks like you hurt him.
What the…
“Is he dead?” I ask you as you run - or rather limp- towards me, in such a hurry you almost fall, but here I am, catching you in my arms, before it’s too late.
You stare at me, pure shock in your gorgeous big blue eyes, and you shake your head negatively
“I’m sorry, I had planned for my first words to say to you to be more romantic.”
And you show me a hint of a smile, despite the whole situation.
“Well, the catching me in your arms has been very romantic.” You admit, right before going back to your very alarmed expression.
“But it’s not time to think about romantic stuff. Joe, I did something awful.”
“If you ask me, the very awful thing would have been letting him go.” I comment, as I stare at his still unconscious body.
“So, you're not mad at me?” You ask me, puzzled, as you part from me and go back to the chair.
I chuckle.
“Mad? If anything I’m proud of you, Bronte.”
“Really?”
I frown, walking closer to you.
“Why did you think I would be mad?”
“Because I don’t know what I had to expect from the test you put me through!” You almost yell.
Oh. You’re so smart. You understood it was a test.
“I’m not gonna lie. Yes, this was a test, and you passed it, with top grades.” I smile at you, I kneel down and hold your hands in mine. “Care to tell me what happened and how you feel?”
“I had got Dane to finally talk with me, and we even found some common ground, you know? And I was really on my way to set him free, sure that he had learned his lessons.”
“But?” I anticipate you.
“But the bastard started to rant he would do things better next time, choosing only women who deserve that, can you believe it?”
You still sound furious only recalling that, but I let you keep talking.
“And yet I was still willing to let it go, but then that asshole dared to say that he hoped Beck died screaming!”
Oh. So is that the reason?
“And…?” I gently urge you, my hands never leaving yours.
“And then I saw red. I lost my rationality. I recalled what I saw on the table, when you showed me, I hid the knife under the sleeve of my cardigan, I got him out of the cage, as you must have seen, and then … the knife was inside his hip before I could even figure it out.” You stare for a while at the knife on the floor. “But I know for sure he’s still alive.”
“So what? Do you want to call an ambulance? Do you want me to blackmail him and get sure he will never talk with anyone about what happened here today?”
We could do that. After all, I would deal with him later, my way, and you would never know.
You shake your head negatively and there’s a strange light in your eyes.
“Do you remember? This morning, before going, you gave me a choice: let him go. Never let him go. What if I picked the second one?”
Your voice sounds so innocent, but what you just asked is not innocent at all.
This astonished me so much that I let your hands go.
“Bronte, maybe you’re still in shock for the whole situation and you’re not fully you right now…”
You do something I didn’t expect at all.
You smile and get up from the chair.
“I’ve never been myself more than I am now. I know I did something wrong, and yet it felt so damn right. Plus, this made me think a lot. Do you remember when I talked about my mother's issue, at breakfast? It was that same urge, but the difference is that this time I didn’t hold back. Being with you has this effect on me.”
Oh, Bronte. This is music to my ears.
I walk closer to you.
“So, is it really a bad thing not to hold back anymore?” I murmur, my eyes piercing yours.
Your fingers play with my curls as you pull me closer to a kiss.
“Is it enough as an answer?” You rhetorically ask me, against my lips, right before deepening the kiss.
I could go on for hours, if only in addition to our moans we didn’t hear someone groaning.
Dane or whatever is his name is about to wake up.
“I guess a bucket of cold water thrown at him would make the task easier.” You suggest.
Oh you mean business. And you’re showing no sign of empathy.
I like both things.
I go upstairs and come back with the filled bucket.
You limp your way towards me.
“I only have a request.” You murmur.
Here we go, I was too optimistic.
Probably now you’re going to say you changed your mind or that you prefer not to watch, or…
“Make him suffer.” You whisper in my ear.
I back off to stare at you better.
“What?”
“You heard me. Don’t give him a quick death like you did with Clayton. This bastard deserves a lot worse.”
“Your wish is my command.” I smile at you, my heart full of devotion.
“So can I have the honour?” You ask me, pointing at the bucket.
I leave it to you very willingly.
“Wake up, Dane, we don’t have all day long!”
You unceremoniously splash the cold water on him who wakes up bolt upright, hurting himself with the abrupt movement.
“Aaarghhhhh!!! You, goddamn bitch!” He growls at you.
Bad move. Really a bad one.
“This is definitely not the way you should address my girlfriend.” I kneel down.
“Oh! Finally you bothered to come back, you, a.. AAAAAHHHHHH!!!” He snaps, right before my hand goes straight for his wound and squeezes it.
“Are we clear?” I sneer, squeezing even tighter.
He screams like a maniac and you stare at me like I’m your hero.
And I am.
He seems almost thankful when I let go.
“Ok-okay, mate. Just let me go or.. or maybe take me to a hospital and we’re good.”
He laboriously tries to get up, but I push him down on the floor again, not very gently, for the record.
“What the fuck?” He curses.
“Bronte, be a dear and go behind the arch, please. There are some rolled floor protection sheets. I was planning some paintings, but I guess now they can serve a better purpose.”
“Wh-what do you wanna do, you… psycho bastard?” Dane growls but the only thing he gains is my punch on his nose.
My knuckles ache and his now broken nose bleeds.
Goal achieved.
You come back with the things I’ve requested and I help you display them all over the floor, temporarily lifting Dane as you place one beneath him.
I grab the knife on the floor and I take a glimpse of you, watching me with great expectations.
It gets me so hard I could fuck you right here, right now, in front of him, but I must control my horny urges.
“In case you’re still wondering, Dane, there’s no fucking way you’re getting out of this room… alive!” I warn him and the second after the blade of the knife sinks into his left thigh. “Just to reiterate the concept.” I sadistically grin as he screams and curses.
“That’s exactly what I meant, Joe.” You wink at me.
I just have to take a break to go to you and kiss you, as he’s busy suffering.
You don’t even seem to mind that my left hand is stained with blood, as you hold it during the kiss.
It’s like when you wanted Ezra to kiss Ella right after he had feeded.
You were right. I shouldn’t kinkshame you.
You don’t seem to mind that.
You don’t seem to mind anything but me. Us. Our kiss that’s racing his intensity.
We are in our world.
I brought you here, but you decided to stay, on your own.
And that’s what it really matters.
“This is even worse than the stabbings!” A harsh, graceless voice interrupts us. “You two are disgusting!” Dane spits…blood, mostly.
You part from me only to go to him.
“You are the only disgusting thing in this room. You and the awful things you did to women like me.” You growl. “Tell me, how many times?”
Despite all the weakening due to the blood loss, Dane raises his gaze, challenging you with an arrogant sneer.
“Every.. time those fucking…selfish … go-getter bitches deserved it!” He says with great effort, coughing blood all the time.
The way you’re glaring at him, Bronte.
If looks could kill, you wouldn’t even need my help.
“Joe, weren’t you in the middle of something? Please, just go on.” You ask me, without breaking your icy eye contact with him.
The knife is back in my hand.
“Dane, Dane, Dane… I guess we’re reaching the end of our ride.”
He lost all his cockiness. Now he has the look of someone who knows he’s fucked.
“This is for all the girls you hurt.” I say, as the blade oh so easily pierce his skin, above the right shoulder.
“Oh! That reminds me of one of the first stories of yours that I read.” You make me smile, as I retrieve the knife.
It’s time for the final touch.
“And this is for just thinking you could hurt my love.”
This time the blade lands on the left side, at heart level.
Something that gives him only the time to exhale the last breaths.
“Is he…”
You can’t even bring yourself to finish your question.
I’ll do it for you.
“Dead? Yes. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
You nod.
“Well, I guess it’s better to roll him up in the sheets and put it away from here for now.” I cover him, lift him on my shoulder and put him under the table.
“Wise move. And I guess I’ll clean the floor.” You mumble, taking the mop.
“Joe, what happens now?” You ask me as you keep rubbing the floor.
The decision you’re doing that with equals the uncertainty within your tone.
“Hey.” I murmur, pulling you closer for a hug. “You have nothing to fear. I’ll take care of anything. Later tonight I’ll dispose of the body. I already know what to do.”
I perfectly recall where that camping area is and I know for sure it’s not camping season.
Looks like tonight R.I.P. Benjy will get a friend.
You part from me and look at me way too suspiciously.
“You sound like someone… uh… accustomed to this sort of stuff.”
“I just watch a lot of crime movies!” I chuckle innocently, as I take the mop from you and finish the job.
Are you really with me in this, Bronte? Are you having any kind of second thought?
I would understand, of course… but then I should take drastic measures and this is the last thing I want.
“You still don’t fully trust me, Joe, don’t you?” I hear you say and when I turn to you you’re limping towards the cage.
You place the key on the little box and you step inside it.
“Why don’t we cut through the bullshit?”
“What… “
You close it and I frown.
“What are you doing?”
“We both know there’s no lying in here, so… ask me anything.”
You’re offering me your whole vulnerability. And sincerity.
Could there be a more precious gift?
“Are you still catfishing me?”
“Is a girl who asks you to kill twice, the first time very unconsciously, the second one fully aware… still catfishing you?”
You answered with another question, but you certainly proved your point.
“Do you regret it?”
“What? Catfishing or…what happened today?”
“Both.”
“Yes and no, for the first. And not at all for the second one.”
I smile.
“But, Joe. This doesn’t mean you’re allowed to make it happen whenever you please!”
I scoff.
“Of course. It’s not that I go around and kill people every single day!”
Don’t think that I didn’t see that half smile, Bronte.
“But… if under the right circumstances something like that happened, would you be on my side again?”
“Not only would I, I would enjoy it, again.”
If possible, now I love you even more, that’s why I hope you’ll give me the most cherished answer to my next question.
“Do you love me?”
You startle and seem surprised.
“I wasn’t expecting this one.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
It’s almost a whisper but you said that, not to mention the light in your eyes.
“Even when I killed for you?”
“I felt… thrilled. And I should hate myself for that, yet I don’t. Let alone I hate you. I love you.” You stare at me directly into my eyes, the glass the only thing dividing us.
You mean every single word.
“Okay. C’mon. Your turn.”
“Right. Already? I…”
“Trust begets trust.” You reply, reassuring.
So I open the door, help you out and I let in.
We exchange a long gaze and all I need is that I can trust you, Bronte.
I want to.
“Have you ever killed anyone innocent?”
“No. Never.”
And your questions go on, more and more personal, deeper and deeper.
Until I bare my soul for you to see it, your eyes teary as my tears already wet my face.
And just when I can’t bear it any minute longer you open the fucking door.
“I’m not going anywhere, Joe.”
Then you hug me tight, as if you wanted to protect me from all the Evil in the world.
And I feel safe. I feel I belong to someone.
I belong to you.
I cry a little on your shoulder.
“Who are you?” I rhetorically ask you, staring at you as if you were my saviour.
And you are.
“I’m fucking Bronte. And I see you, Joe Goldberg.”
And then you kiss me and we make love as if it was the very first time.
And in a certain sense it is.
It’s the first time we showed each other who we really are.
I wasn’t wrong about you, Bronte, about your writing.
You do have a dark side.
And I love it just as all the rest of the light that surrounds you.
I remember what that idiot of Harrison said as he held Maddie’s hand tight.
‘We’re all fucking monsters. But we can love each other anyway.’
It’s the same for us, right?
We desperately cling to each other, breath against breath, skin against skin, heart against heart, soul against soul.
I sink into your hot core and you urge me to go even deeper, your nails scratching my back.
We kiss as if our life depended on that and we both feel we belong to each other more and more, with every kiss, with every nibble, with every licking, with every caress, with every push.
You came with my name in your lips and I follow you in the ecstasis of the moment.
But it’s not enough yet.
We have to repeat it, again and again, in every position, in every possible way.
This cage is narrow, this mattress is so shallow and probably he will break my back, but I wouldn’t trade it for the most luxury suite ever.
Because it’s our cage, it’s our moment- more like hours of heavenly love making -; this is us.
“What are you smiling about?” I ask you, once we are done.
At least for now.
“I’m just feeling inspired. To write.” You smile, turning to me. “Dreaming about what’s next for the Huntress and the Magician. Now that they’ve overcome the enemies-to-lovers trope.”
“Mmm.” I close my eyes, enjoying this tender cuddling moment and your caresses on my face. “And fell into another trope.”
“Really? What’s that?” You smile.
“She saw him. And I don’t even know if it’s a trope, but.. she made him feel accepted.”
“Aww.” You bite your lips and pull me closer to you. “Of course he is. Totally, lovingly accepted.”
And then we kiss again and you end on top of me, your fingers toying with my hairy chest.
“Thank you for making my day so unforgettable, Bronte. The only thing I killed before going back here… it’s an armchair!”
“You what?!” You burst laughing, straddling me. “You really are my slutty, little mess!”
“Oh!” I sound insulted, as you chuckle and kiss me again and again.
We ended up making love for the umpteenth time and I’m not complaining at all.
“Don’t think that Beck was so perfect…” I murmur, maybe half asleep, maybe worn out after all the intensity between us.
“Uh?”
“Although she’s dead, you tend to put her on a pedestal way too much.”
You look at me shocked.
“Wh-what did you just say?”
And then it happens.
You’re as fast as a flash, you get up, get off the cage and close the door with me still inside it.
Shit.
I run to the glass door but you’re already locking it with the key.
“Bronte, please… open the cage.” I bang my head at the glass.
“You know Joe, only a kind of person could speak so ill of a dead person: her killer!” You figure out, as you wrap the sheet around you to cover yourself.
While I’m standing, bared and exposed.
In every sense.
Shit.
Why did I say that?
Did I want you to find out?
Did I turn into a moron all of the sudden?
“You’re not even saying anything!”
“Of course I didn’t kill her, Bronte!”
“You’re still in the cage. No fucking lies in the cage!” You growl at me.
“I didn’t kill Beck! Doctor Nicky did!”
“You’re lying! I’ve seen the real you. I’ve seen what you’re capable of!”
“And you were my accomplice, not longer ago!” I yell at you.
“Tell me the truth, Joe!” You insist.
“I already did!” I growl, as I feel the pressure being unbearable.
“Well, I don't believe you!”
“I didn’t do anything to Beck…”
I myself am starting to believe my own lies, less and less.
“Confess it!” You bang your hand at the glass.
“FINE! I did it. I killed Beck!”
What the fuck did I just say?
You stare at me as if you didn’t know me at all.
“But you… you swore you never killed an innocent person!”
“And I told the damn truth. Beck was many things, but certainly not innocent!”
You stare at me in awe.
“Is innocent for you, someone who pretends her father is dead to be pitied and write a poem about that?”
“What?” You frown.
“Is it innocent to seduce your former boyfriend after you decided to break up with him, only because he’s already in a much healthier relationship with a good, trustful girl who could really be his way out of all the troubles and pain in his life? So she decides she wants him back, because it’s a challenge, a prize to conquer back, not a real person with feelings…”
“Joe… I didn’t know…” you mumble, looking at me confused.
“Of course, you didn’t know. It’s not something she published in her book.” I grumble. “However, she tried so hard that she managed to make me fall into her clutches again, bringing me to dump the good girl in a rather cowardly way too, it’s something I’m still not so proud about.” I sigh.
“I’m sorry to hear that… but at least then things between you and Beck improved, right?”
“Oh yeah, they improved so good that I found out she cheated on me with her therapist, which is the main reason for our first break-up, because she had the audacity to tell me that I didn’t trust her, while I was right all time long…”
“I’m sorry for you, Joe… I had no idea she could have been like that.”
“Well, Bronte, you keep saying she was your friend, but, don’t take offense, I used to know every one of her friends; while she hadn’t mentioned you even half time… you were just a part of her job, not a friend… otherwise your plan would never work. I never forget a name or a face.”
“No offense taken. Quite the contrary. You’re right, friends is too big a word. We barely knew each other, but it’ s still a death that affected me a lot… now at least I know why she’s dead.” You sigh.
“Oh wait, do you think I killed her for cheating? Nope. I gave her second chances to explain herself, to prove to me she had changed, and yet she betrayed my trust in so many ways. I’ve spent months keeping her away from toxic people, listening to every one of her problems and comforting her, supporting her to get her the job she dreamed about… and then she stares directly at me saying that I’m a sicko and that she had never loved me!”
And after that none of us are talking anymore, for a while and then you limp away, probably to call the police in a spot where your phone has some signal.
I turn my back at the door, go search for at least my pants and T-shirt and sit down, waiting for my fate.
Waiting for the cops to come.
All my thoughts go to Henry, who probably now I’ll never be able to reach … and to you.
I really wished for things between us to work in the best way possible.
I only turn again when I hear the clanking sound of the key turning the door open.
I expect for two or more cops to take me away… instead there’s only you.
What the…
“So… the door is open. Are you going to stay inside it all night long or what?” You ask me, crossing your arms.
I get out, but very suspiciously.
“Bronte, what’s going on?”
“I get to know the real you and yet I’m still here with you. See? Told ya I wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe I’ve totally lost my mind or maybe I just decided who I want to be: your soulmate. No matter what.” You reach for my hand and hold it.
Am I dreaming?
Do you still want to be with me? Even after what you made me confess?
“Last time I’ve checked, we had a body to dispose of.”
I turn to you.
“We?” I repeat in disbelief.
You pull me closer for a kiss.
“We are in this together, Joe. There’s no more point of return. Now just show me how the work is done.”
“Huh. If you insist… but be warned, it won’t be a funny trip.”
“I’m going for every kind of trip, as long as it’s with you.” You smile at me.
It seems like a sort of miracle happened today.
Or something even better.
Something I dare to dream about only in my pages.
Ezra turned Ella into a vampire.
And I couldn’t be happier.
--
THE END