The Prisoner Project

THIRTY THREE

"I am beyond good and evil. I will be avenged. Lucifer dwells in us all."

— Richard Ramirez

THIRTY THREE

I PUSHED AWAY from Banshee immediately. Before I could comprehend it, my back was pressed against the exit door and my hand was wrapped around the concealed handle. I now fully regretted the lack of restrictions Banshee had, and I wanted him to be chained, gagged and taken far away from me.

"You're lying."

Banshee took a moment to acknowledge the sudden distance between us. He glanced at my chair that had toppled over in the process and he tutted. "You have all the signs and all the warnings. You know what I am capable of. Yet, when I tell you the blatant truth, you refuse to take it."

"You are lying."

He looked incredulous, but ever so slightly. Banshee titled his head and soft curls hid his furrowed brows. "Do you love me?"

What? Taken aback my his question, I remained still.

"Because only a lover would go through this much to avoid the painful truth about the one they love."

"I don't love you."

His brows dropped closely over his swollen eyes in a questioning expression. "You don't?" He repeated, his voice spilling with such an incredulous edge; with such disbelief that his face mirrored every ounce of it.

"I don't." I hissed.

"Liar. I have been incarcerated for the brutal mass murder of several innocent people and I feel no remorse. I have told you countless number of times that I am sick. I feel absolutely nothing. I lie like the son of Satan, and I feel inclined to impale anyone who crosses my path." Banshees eyes sat underneath the harsh slant of his brows, and he looked —concerned. "Why on earth would you trust me?"

And it dawned on me that he was absolutely right. Frank had done nothing wrong to me yet I had spent the entire time disliking him and pushing him away. I had been warned that Banshee was dangerous. But the harrowing thing about him wasn't that he could easily kill me, it was that he could make me believe that his killing me was something I had asked for.

I had thought I had everything under control but God, was I wrong. Nicholas Dementia had deceived us all.

"Because you're a master manipulator."

Banshee was silent for a moment, and then he gave me a beautifully tragic smile. "No, Aria, I didn't do anything you didn't ask me to."

I couldn't respond to him even if I wanted to.

"The point is you killed your parents, and your brother." Banshees voice hushed to a sordid whisper. "You told me that with your body language, your words and your eyes."

My hands left the door handle and reached up to my throat. It felt unbearably tight. I hated that he continually reminded me of the one thing I wished away from my life. "Please, stop."

"Christ." Banshee sighed. "I'm only bringing that up because of Mirabel."

My hands fell limp against my sides and I felt like he had just punched me in the gut. I couldn't help my slacked jaw. "Is that why she wants revenge? For what happened to them?!"

Banshee furrowed his brows as though he couldn't quite comprehend my reaction. There was an emotion within his shadowed eyes that I couldn't pin point. "What do you think?"