Page 200 of I Will Break You

Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful. Grateful for his continued existence. Grateful for his protection. Grateful for his presence.

Thanks to Xero, I’m no longer alone, but I’ve lost that tiny window of agency I had over my life when we were pen pals. I’ve gone from overmedicated to under his thumb.

I hate feeling powerless, but something has changed. Despite my loss of control, he makes me feel alive. Xero is the spark that lights me up even in the darkest moments. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating.

Being with him has awakened feelings I never thought existed. A delicious thrill, a twisted sense of connection—all of it makes me feel more awake than I can ever remember.

And here he is, working to keep me safe, no matter how much I bitch and moan. Even when I tire of the constant push and pull, miss the quiet certainty I had before, or long for the simplicity ofour letters, he gives me what I need to survive, to be stronger. Or maybe it’s just another way to lose myself.

Only time will tell.

“Get on the bed and roll onto your front,” he barks.

Remembering this is a training exercise, I rise off the bed and back toward the door. “Don’t touch me.”

My heart pounds with exhilaration. The most important part about escaping bindings is not letting the bastards tie me up.

Xero stands, his massive frame taking up the entire room. He’s so tall he has to bend his neck forward to avoid hitting the ceiling, yet the awkward angle of his head only makes him look more sinister.

Still moving backward, I glance from side to side, looking for a weapon to keep Xero at bay. My gaze lands on a gun lying on the dresser. Xero lurches forward to grab it, but I’m faster.

“That’s right,” I snarl. “Stay back.”

He grins. “Are you going to shoot me, little ghost?”

“If you come any closer, I’ll fill you with bullets,” I say, my voice trembling.

He raises his palms to shoulder height, but nothing in his expression says he’s about to surrender. When he steps forward to close the distance, my fingers find the trigger.

“You’re supposed to stop,” I say. “I’ve got a gun.”

“Firearms are pointless if you’re not prepared to use them.” He rushes forward, grabs my wrist, and snatches the pistol from my trembling fingers.

My stomach lurches. “Wait. How did you?—”

He presses the gun into my temple. “Now, you’re at my mercy. Get on the bed and lie on your front.”

“No,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Or I’ll shoot.”

“You won’t.”

“Why not?” he asks with a sneer.

“Because no one’s going to pay ninety-nine dollars for a movie where I die from a gunshot wound to the head.”

He chuckles. “Clever little ghost. What are you going to do now?”

I elbow him in the rib, but it only makes him grunt. Whenthat doesn’t work, I spin around, grab his erection through his pants, and twist.

“Fuck,” he roars.

Warm satisfaction inflates my chest. I grapple for the gun, but he holds it out of reach. When punching him in the chest only hurts my fists, I realize my mistake and head toward the door.

Xero grabs a handful of my hair, but I already know this move. Turning back toward him, I strike at his throat. It’s enough to make him stagger back and release his grip, so I return to the door.

It’s locked.