I’m trapped in death as I was trapped in life. Stuck spectating someone else’s life. We all make our choices, I suppose. And then we must lie with them. My choice… was Aro.#
“You’re so beautiful.”
I don’t know what melted me more. Aro’s smooth talk or his velvet hands. They lit fire along my skin.
“I need you.”
And me, the fool. “I need you, too.”
How quickly his eyes hardened, a shade drawn across his warmth. “I can’t take you in my bed, Charice. I have a mistress already.” He waved an arm at the empty floor we stood upon, caught up in his own drama. “She is the stage. First… always… the show must go on.” His eyes burned with a passion that would never be for me.
I wanted to leave. God knows I did. But my heart wanted what it couldn’t have—only him.
Traitorous organ.
I managed, at least, to turn away from him. A small act of defiance.
He grabbed me. Spun me around as if he knew part of me had slipped from his grasp. “Be my partner, Charice.”
My heart skipped a beat—
“Perform with me!”
—and broke in two.
His passion moved him as I never could and he kissed me, lips bruising and tender both at once. So warm. The heat seared me like a brand. Marked me as his. Only when I let myself go, returning his kiss with abandon, did he pull away.
I did what he wanted, of course. Unlike all his other tricks, one magic was absolute—he had total sway over me.
When he wanted me to be his partner, I did.
When he asked me to promise I’d never leave him, I did.
When he told me to get into the box, right there on the stage, without ever having practiced or worked out an escape… I did.
Aro’s crowning achievement was also his downfall. And my demise.
“Actual magic,” they called it. But dark, of course. Evil.
Devil’s work.
How he cried.
I watched his tears fall, my gaze upon him even through the veil of death.
“Why?” he sobbed.
My lips twitched.
“Why must I endure such aversion? Such callous disregard? Such rejection?”
The irony escaped him. His tears were only for himself.
#
He’s older now. Silver threads his dark waves, a circle of pink scalp his only crown.
I lived up to my promise.
I never left him.
I watch, making sure his show never quite goes off as planned. Moving his things from one pocket to another, sabotaging his props, stealing his joy as he stole mine.
I think he sees me sometimes, when he sits to put his makeup on. His eyes find mine in the mirror and he gasps, spinning to find an empty room. His hands tremble as he picks up his top hat and wand and heads for the stage.
My laughter echoes after him.
He can’t escape me.
We’re partners, after all.
First… always… the show must go on.
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