Chapter 10
Indigo
The crash of the good porcelain I’d bought when we first moved into the house against the hardwood was the only thing that made me feel better about my situation. I stared at the eggs and orange juice spreading across the floor and tried to breathe normally. I was pissed.
It had been a week.
A week of four walls. I wasn't used to this shit anymore. I wanted to dance, but there was no music. Not even a TV.
He wouldn’t tell me where we were.
He left a book on the nightstand, though.The Virtues of a Wife. He'd highlighted passages and added his own notes in the margins. And on page one, he left a note:They don't run.This motherfucker thought he was funny.
I ripped it up and I threw that at the wall too.
He was at the door in seconds. He stood there, taking in the mess like it was simply data to process.
"You done?" he asked.
I sneered at him. “I’m tired of you saying that shit in that monotone-ass robot voice of yours.” I grabbed the lamp off the nightstand and heaved it at the wall. It exploded. "But to answer your question…nowI'm done."
He didn't flinch. Just watched me.
"What?" I shouted. "You want to drug me again? Put me back to sleep so you don't have to deal with me?"
"I'm dealing with you right now."
"You're holding me hostage!"
"I'm keeping you alive."
I laughed. It came out ugly. "Semantics when it equals the same fucking thing, Malac."
He stepped into the room, kicking a piece of broken glass out of his path. "I want to talk to you. You ready to talk?"
"We’ve talked. You’ve spent a week interrogating me like a hostile witness. Why did I leave? Why did I strip? I’ll tell you again, but this will be the last time. I left because you are the reason my baby died. I stripped because it was fun throwing this ass and having men worship me. I went from my father’s house to yours—you’re both narcissists with God complexes. I needed freedom. I basked in it after I left you. And I want to reiterate—and maybe you’ll be able to comprehend it in that mechanical skull of yours—I left because of the baby..."
My voice broke, but I forced myself to finish.
"The baby died because you were too busy playing God’s hand to notice the devil’s hand in your own house."
I was shaking now.
"You want me to repeat it as a list so you can compartmentalize it?" My voice got louder. "Your indifference. Sasha in my house. In my bedroom. In my face for two years while you did nothing. The baby." My voice cracked. I hated that it cracked. "You let her kill our baby, and you wouldn’t let me kill that bitch. That’s why you got a hole in your chest now.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Something that looked almost like hurt.
I stood there, chest heaving, my heart drumming in my ears. I waited for the explosion.
Instead, he just stepped closer. His boots crunched on the glass of the shattered lamp, a sound like breaking bones.
"I didn't let you kill her because you didn’t even give me a chance to listen to your explanation, Indigo." His voice was so calm it vexed the fuck out of me.
"An explanation?" I spat the word out like it was poison, my hands shaking as I shoved against his chest. He didn't move an inch, and that pissed me off too. "Why the hell do you need an explanation? You were supposed to just know. You were supposed to look at me—and choose me. Automatically. Without a trial. Without a goddamn deposition!"
I stepped into his space, my finger digging into the hard muscle of his sternum. "You were supposed to kill the bitch just because I asked, Malachai. You made these promises. You were supposed to protect me. You were the one that wanted to marry me!"
His hand came up slowly, wrapping tightly around my wrist, stopping the finger that kept jabbing into his chest.