9.
Monique
Panicking, I yell at Serge to let me the hell down but he ignores me and throws me over the shoulder. There’s a smell of gasoline in the air and I scream in anger, reaching for Nero. He reaches back, his eyes dark and hollow and he’s whispering something under his breath.
There’s blood running out of his mouth and I gasp when the door closes and then I can’t see him anymore. Worming around, I start pounding on Serge’s back. “You stupid, idiot! You should have listened to me. Let me go now!”
He ignores me, marching across the yard where his black car waits. His men meet up with us, jumping into the car just when Serge throws me into the backseat. I try the door, yanking at the handle but it’s locked and Serge is blocking my other exit.
“What did you do!” I yell and we start to roll. “Turn this fucking car around. We can’t just leave him...!” Biting down on my tongue, I whip around, jerking when I realize the house is up in flames. “I go crazy. “No, no, no...!” I scream as fear slides up my lower belly and explodes in my throat. I bang on the seat, the windows but Serge holds me down.
“Calm down,” he roars. “It’s over. You’re safe now.”
“You don’t understand,” I croak, “you got it all wrong.”
“He kidnapped you!”
“So what?” Sitting up, I shove at him. “So what if he kidnapped me? I don’t care! That man that you just killed, loved me and I hate you!”
Turning away from me, Serge lets out a curse, muttering to his men that I’m confused. His men look like hell, they all do and there’s cuts and wounds everywhere on their skin and one of the men is slowly bleeding out. Nero did a good number on them. Four against one was unfair. Cowards...
I turn to look one last time and the whole place is a growing inferno. He’s gone. He died before we got a chance to make things right between us, he was making progress, finally coming to his senses and then they took him away from me.
My emotions go numb, my heart turning into an icicle in my chest and I look down. I’m still wearing Nero’s t-shirt and it still carries his smell. I look out the window when my throat starts choking up as we drive under silence and then we’re on a road and I can’t see the lake anymore.
“Monique,” Serge says after a while, groaning a little because he’s in pain. “I know it’s hard but you don’t know who you were dealing with in there.”
“Enlighten me then, why don’t you?” I bite off.
Serge gives a slow nod. “His name’s Nero Dantés, 28 years old. We broke into his apartment after he’d abducted you, to look for clues.” Shifting in his seat, Serge adds, “As a child, he was kept in a blacked out room by his father. There were no lights, nobody around and he was sensory deprived.”
My lower lip starts trembling. A part of me doesn’t want Serge to continue and another needs to know the truth.
“There was a whole scandal regarding his birth, and his father kept him hidden, telling friends and family he had no son. When people came over, he put on music to drown out the sounds Dantés was making.” Serge glances at me. “Guess what kind of music?”
“Swan Lake?” I whisper, recoiling when Serge nods.
“Dantés imagined a dark swan being with him in that room as a way to cope. His notes say that when he saw you on the stage for the first time, he knew you were the swan. You triggered him, enough to make him snap. Up until then, he had never done anything like this. There’s no history of violence or any other crime, not even a speeding ticket.”
I wince, wishing Serge had never told me this. Before me, Nero was better off, before me he lived in peace and he could’ve lived his whole life without getting triggered. If it hadn’t been for little old, me!
It would’ve been better if he never had met me. Then Nero still would’ve been alive and breathing. Dragging a hand through my hair, I avoid looking at Serge. He did what he thought was right, thought he was saving me but he should’ve let me handle this.
“We need to go back,” I croak.
“It’s too late.” Serge squeezes my shoulder but I shrug him off. “You’re a strong girl, Monique. You’ll get over this. I’ve notified your father and he’s already busy finding the best therapists that deal with cases like yours.”
“There is no case such as mine,” I bite off. “Nero was special.” I still struggle to comprehend, I won’t be seeing him again. I’ll never be able touch him and he’ll never touch me. He’s out of my life for good. Leaning back, I look out the window, refusing to cry in front of Serge and his men but tears still well up.
“Did he...?” Serge begins with hesitation and worry before glancing at my naked legs. “Did he ever...?”
He sounds so uncomfortable that I cut him off. “No.” I tug at my t-shirt. “I’m telling you he wasn’t like that. He was...loveable.”
Serge remains silent for the moment before giving me an awkward pat on the head. He murmurs to his men that Nero warped my mind and I don’t know what I’m saying, that I’m confused, a snatched girl that developed twisted feelings for her captor.
Curling up, I feel my lids flutter. My feelings for him weren’t twisted. They were mine and I’m going to miss him forever.
Sleep comes to save me from my agony...
Darkness.
And in my dreams I see Nero.
Epilogue
Monique-six months later.
The pain in my knee is still there but I pay it no attention. I’ve gone numb, weightless, and I dance with a fluidity that has the public spellbound. This used to be a toxin but it no longer is. My real toxin is gone and some days, I can neither eat nor breathe. I always thought I would wilt without dance but never thought I would wilt without him.
And yet that is exactly what’s happening.
My crowd doesn’t do it for me anymore. I no longer care if they love me or hate me, I just want Nero back. But it’s not possible. He died in that lodge many months ago. I visited once and it was burnt to the ground. The room where he twisted my body and heart inside out, was nothing but ashes.
Ruins.
Applauds rain over me when I finish, and I force a smile. The audience gives me a standing ovation and the other dancers are thrilled. They rejoice in this, like I used to in the past but right now I don’t care if somebody else takes my shine. I used to worry so much about being replaced and now I couldn’t care less.
Once, I was irreplaceable to a man and that was enough. It gave me all that I needed. To this day, it would still give me everything if only he’d been alive and I look over the crowd. I imagine him sitting there in the dark, slowly clapping his hand with a smile on his face and a needy look in his eyes. He would wait for me in my dressing room, then turn me around and tell me to pull up the tutu.