But that was a lie.

There had been pleasure.

Pleasure in letting go and speaking after so long.

Pleasure in crying.

Even pleasure in knowing I hurt him with my never-ending questions.

Scrambling toward the edge of the bed, I swung my legs to the floor and collected my pen and notepad. Elder had scattered all parts of me, ransacked my heart, and decimated my survival mechanisms. But what was left was so much better.

Holes, mistrust, and suicide no longer riddled me.

I was newly born and ready to be who I’d been before I was sold at that awful auction.

Composing another line to No One, I pressed pen to paper.

I’m willing to heal, No One. Will he give me that chance or will he expect to take me again next time we see each other?

The flow of ink was so much smoother than a pencil nib. The question darker and stained with permanency. I desperately wanted to know if Elder would remain courteous and give me the time I needed to willingly enter his bed or if he’d finish what he’d started last night.

Either way, I would survive because I’d finally made that choice to pick living over dying. I’d finally reached the pinnacle where I was ready to say fuck you to my past and hello to my future.

I’m going to talk to him, No One. After so much silence, I have so many questions. If I ask, I’m sure he’ll answer.

Somehow, a layer of judgment fell over me. As if No One wasn’t so sure—as if my imaginary saviour doubted my newfound conviction that Elder wasn’t just another monster.

I’d never felt anything but soothing support before. It unsettled me to feel myself at war.

If I asked Elder what he intended to do with me, I had no doubt he would tell me the truth. Or at least—his version of the truth.

But he never answered your previous question.

I paused, biting my bottom lip.

That was true.

He’d rocked and let me hit him, but he’d never given me a reply. No matter how many times I’d asked.

Where were you two years ago?

My shoulders hunched.

I should never have asked that. It was a terrible question because it wasn’t his responsibility. How could I dump that guilt on him? It wasn’t like he knew me then. I was nobody to him just like he was nobody to me. I couldn’t blame him for what’d happened because none of this was his fault.

Where were you two years ago?

His answer didn’t matter.

Not anymore. Not now, when I was more human than animal—able to analyse and ponder rather than rely entirely on fight or flight.

Sighing heavily, I scrawled:

His whereabouts two years is irrelevant. I was living my life, and he was living his. I can’t hate him because he didn’t stop Alrik from buying me. The pain I suffered is mine, not his. Just like his tragedies that I couldn’t prevent are his.

It was a relief to let go of things I’d bottled inside. I’d been so angry with Elder. I’d held him accountable for things he hadn’t done. I’d hated him for playing his cello. I’d fought him when he encouraged me to talk. I’d refused to dress. I’d punished him until he’d snapped.

Those weren’t excuses for his behaviour.

They were just facts.

And I refused to be so self-absorbed anymore.

I have to apologise.

A part of me rolled its eyes.

You seriously want to apologise to the man who took you without consent?

Tossing my notepad and pen onto the bed, I gathered the white robe draped over the sheets and shrugged it on. This time, I didn’t let thoughts of claustrophobia take away the warmth of clothing cloaking me.

From now on, I was normal. And normal girls wore clothing.

Elder might’ve taken me without consent, but by doing so, he’d shown me a horizon of courage hidden above the fractured ceiling of my mind.

Apologising to him, dressing in public, and thanking him for his hospitality were the right things to do. Everything else—the lingering glances, the tummy-fluttering kisses, the tear-invoking cello—could be worked through now that I was in a healthier place.

My note to No One lay discarded on the bed, and I had no desire to finish it. I needed to learn how to survive without a silent pen pal as my crutch.

Padding to the bathroom, I inspected my reflection.

For no sleep, I didn’t look too bad. Only slight shadows under my eyes and tangled hair from running hands through it when my thoughts gave me a headache.

Yesterday, I’d still been Pimlico.

Tonight, I would try to be more Tasmin.

Despite what’d happened between us—or perhaps because of it—I was stronger and more alive since I’d woken on the Phantom and in Elder’s realm.

I turned on the hot water, slipped from the robe, and stepped into the shower.

As soapy bubbles decorated my skin, I made the choice to stop my past dictating my future. The minute I was clean, I would head to the top deck, seek Elder out, and see where this new beginning would take us.