Page 91 of I Will Break You

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Page 91 of I Will Break You

The hangman mounts the mattress, the muscles of his back rippling as he swings his ax and embeds its blade in the side of Johnson’s head. Blood spurts from the wound, and the shock hurtles my body over the edge.

An orgasm tears through my system with its own Richter scale, shaking my legs so much that I lose control and collapse onto the floorboards. The dildo and the pole attached to it fall along with me, making the wood crack and groan under my weight.

I land on my hands and knees, my pussy spasming around the thick silicone toy. I keep coming and coming to the sound of the Hangman’s desperate sobs. What the hell is wrong with my body? What kind of sicko gets off watching a man die?

“What have I done?” he shrieks.

The volume lowers, and I can’t hear the reply because Xero draws close and growls in my ear, “Tell me the truth. Was everything we went through a lie?”

Shuddering through the most intense aftershocks, I force out the words, “But I already told you?—”

“Again,” he snaps.

I bow my head, my brow lying against the warm wood. “Everything I said was true. That day, I went to the prison to get married, but I was late because of that photo and threatening letter.”

“Why didn’t you rush to me for protection?” he asks.

“Xero, you were behind bars and hours away from death,” I sob through panting breaths.

“Didn’t I tell you we would be together forever?”

I laugh, the sound bitter. “Do you know how many men say that every day? It’s just romantic bullshit they think will guarantee cheaper dates, more sacrifices, and better fucks. My pedo music teacher said we’d be together until the end of time, but he’s dead.”

Xero doesn’t reply, probably because he knows I’m right.

“So that’s why I called the police,” I say, my voice hoarse with desperation. “They replayed parts of my podcast and wouldn’t leave the fucking house out of spite because they wanted me to miss the wedding.”

The air fills with the hangman’s sobs, but they may as well be mine. Even thinking about that day crushes my chest until every breath is an effort.

“I fucked up, Xero, but you know how it is whenever I start thinking about my past. That photo… It was worse than anything I could have imagined. I panicked. I called 911. Whoever sent it was watching.”

Xero’s silence hits harder than a punch to the gut, forcing out a wail.

“As soon as they left, I drove to the prison, but the guard at the door said your visiting privileges were revoked.” My words are garbled, thick with tears. I’m spluttering, coughing, reliving the moment that bitch reveled in my broken dreams.

He still doesn’t reply, and my heart shatters.

Nothing will satisfy this man. Guilt snakes through my lungs, squeezing out a pained moan. I may as well rip open my chest and show him my heart.

“I’m sorry, Xero. I understand why you’re so angry.” I breathe hard, trying to fill my lungs with air, but it barely reaches the back of my throat. I clutch at my chest, feeling like it’s being crushed by an invisible weight.

“Because of me, you died alone.” My voice cracks, and rivulets of tears spill down my cheeks and soak the floorboards. “Because of my failure, you spent your last hours of life feeling unloved. Because of my cowardice, you had no one on the other side of the death chamber to ease your suffering.”

I rock back and forth, filling the room with my sobs. “I can’t face the thought of you there, suffering without my support. It tears me apart more than you can ever imagine.”

“I wanted to be there for you. I wanted to consummate our love. I wanted to know what it felt like to connect with the only soul in the world that completes mine.” I bang my fists against my thighs, but the pain doesn’t register compared to the agonyripping through my heart. “I longed for it, longed for you, but I ruined everything.”

“That failure will haunt me until the day I die.” Collapsing forward, I slam my forehead to the floor, my body trembling with the force of my grief. “If you want to punish me, then fine. But please, spare Myra. It’s me who gave her the manuscript, and she didn’t know your backstory was true. It’s me who betrayed you, not her.”

When there’s still no reply, I raise my head and crack open an eye, and brace myself for the force of his vengeance.

But he’s gone.

FORTY-SEVEN

Alderney State Penitentiary,

Dear Amethyst,




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