Destroyed

Kilometre after kilometre, we remained in silence. Either too wrapped up in Clara to risk speaking or figuring out if our argument had cleared the air enough to start anew.

He looked so odd, so fierce, wearing a simple silver star. Up till now, the only adornment he wore were his scars and tattoos, but I knew in my heart he would never take it off. Every time I looked at him wearing it, I would remember her. Just as it should be.

“Where did you go?” I asked as we travelled down roads and through city mania.

He glanced at me, his knuckles turning white around the steering wheel. “I went to deal with something.”

A chill sent goosebumps down my back. “You were in another fight.”

“What makes you say that?”

I shrugged. I couldn’t explain the change in him when he fought—the ease, or relief from whatever demons he suffered. Yet, this time, he seemed lighter—more grounded than I’d ever seen him. “You seem different.” He was…softer. His grey-white eyes weren’t as haunted, as if he’d decided finally to put his past behind him.

“Do you know why I fight? Can you understand the need to find an outlet from internal pain?” He looked over quickly before focusing again on the road.

“Yes. I can understand that.”

“Can you understand when I say fighting to me is a medicine? But it’s the pain that’s my salvation. I self-harm because I haven’t found any other way to free the darkness inside.”

He reached across and stole my right hand, squeezing hard. “I’ve self-harmed for a very long time. I hate it. It fills me with shame, but as much as I want to stop, I can’t. I can’t promise I’ll be able to give it up entirely, but from now on, I’m going to try and find some other way.”

He smiled. “Clara helped with that, too.”

“How?” I barely whispered, too captivated by learning more behind his mask.

“Because her death has given me an unlimited supply of pain. I only need to think of her, and the urge to self-mutilate disappears.”

I didn’t know how to reply. I hated the thought of him using Clara’s memory to avoid hurting himself. Was he tainting her memory by using it for selfish reasons? But then again, I was pleased she continued to help beyond the grave.

“Don’t fight. He needs you.”

Clara’s lyrical voice came and went. I asked, “You didn’t just go to fight, though. Did you?” There was a difference in him. A tightness and barely found tranquillity.

“No. I went to see someone. To say goodbye to a past I never wished I lived.” Fox squeezed my fingers once more, before placing his hand on the wheel. “I went back to Russia.”

My heart raced as my mind filled with images of snow and ice.

“I killed the men who made me like this. I decided to stop relying on others to fix me and find a cure myself.”

Had he done what I’d hoped all along? Had something snapped and fallen from his mind? Hope blazed, chasing away the black cloud of mourning for a wonderful moment. “Is that why you could hug me? You can touch?” I ignored the voice telling me he’d tensed and vibrated with energy when I’d hugged him back. “You’re free?”

His shoulders slumped; he smiled sadly. “Not free, but better.”

I hated the desolation in his eyes. He looked guilty, as if he’d done something wrong by returning to me only marginally repaired. He couldn’t be further from the truth. The fact that he’d tried to heal meant wonders.

“Can I touch you?”

His eyes flew to mine. His jaw clenched but he nodded slowly.

Very carefully, I laid a palm on the hard heat of his left thigh. “I’m so proud of you. I know that sounds strange to say, but you took control and you should celebrate your progress rather than hate that it isn’t cured completely.”

His eyes flashed and he leaned over to press a gentle kiss against my lips. “I swear I could live a thousand f**king years and not deserve you.” Pulling away, he turned into a driveway of a gated property right on the esplanade of Narrabeen. The suburb boasted huge modern architecture, all new and sparkling, and right across the road from the beach.

I blinked as he pressed a remote and the gate rolled open. The house was a two-story white and glass design. The ocean crashed behind us, sounding like muted thunder, welcoming us onto the property. The large double garage door opened, granting shade and a huge concrete home for Fox’s Porsche.

“Where—where are we?” The Northern Beaches were on the opposite end of town to Obsidian. I’d lost all bearings while driving through the city.

Does he own this, too?

I flicked a glance at the man I’d agreed to return home with. How much did I truly know of him?

Nothing.

I didn’t know his favourite foods, or pet peeves, or even his birthday. I didn’t know if he was allergic to anything or how many assets he owned. I’d given him my life all because he proved he could love so fiercely.

And I’m pregnant with his child.

“See, mummy. He needs you after all. He needs someone to love.”

Clara’s voice once again suffocated my lungs. She’d taken up residence in my head, and I never wanted her to leave. Even if it was me telling myself what I needed to hear.

“This is incredible.”

Fox smiled, pulling to a stop inside the garage. “It couldn’t get any more different from Obsidian. I never want to see another gargoyle again.”

I nodded, eternally grateful that I wouldn’t have to enter the dwelling where Clara had died. There was nothing foreboding about this place. It looked welcoming, pristine. A fresh beginning.

Turning off the ignition, Fox said, “We’re home.”

I froze in my seat as a rainbow of emotion filled me: happiness, heartache, hope—all overshadowed by grief. Clara would never see this. She’d never know the massive impact she had on this man.

Turning to face him, I whispered, “I don’t understand.”

Fox gave a half smile and climbed out of the car. Coming around the bonnet, he opened my door and helped me clamber upright. “There’s a lot you won’t understand until I grow some balls and tell you. What I shared in my basement is nothing compared to the involved story—but for now, all you need to know is I bought this two days ago. The moment I found the piece of land for Clara, I found the perfect house for us. I couldn’t return to the club. I need to get away from violence—to try and fix myself once and for all.”