Chapter 55

                                    

                                          
Val
                          
Dear Valerie Tenebris,
                          
I know I shouldn't have done this. I know I'm being selfish. But I just had to write to you again. I think about you every day, desperately hoping that you are alright. Hoping that despite the circumstances, you might sometimes feel some semblance of happiness, even if only for a moment. The thought of you smiling, happy, with Kye, maybe, makes my heart lift, feel a little less heavy. I miss you, and I love you, so damn much, and spending a year thinking you were dead....it wrecked me. You have no idea, how hard it was. 
                          
It couldn't even begin to compare to what the Dark King does to me though. I hate to admit it, but sometimes I think that I can't do this anymore. That it's too much.
                          
The Dark King says he tortures me just like he tortured you. I hope it's not true. I hope you don't have ghastly scars running across your body. I hope you don't look at them and want to start screaming and never stop. I hope you don't hate looking in mirrors because you're reminded of how Manar hurt you. I hope you don't think about him and dream about him and wish to all the gods that what he did to you was nothing. Nothing, as in something you could forget. Something cursory, something inconsequential. 
                          
A week ago—or two? Or three? I am unsure. All I know is that some time ago, the Dark King summoned me to his throne room. There were two thrones. 
                          
One blonde-haired Queen chained to the wall, two thrones, three grinning soldiers, four people on their knees before the dais. 
                          
And then there was me. The Torturer, the Executioner. Yes, I killed them all. A mother, a father, and two children, all begging me to spare them. Their screams still ring in my ears. I had no choice. No choice at all.
                          
How am I supposed to have a heart when I've stopped so many others?
                          
Miss Blanche was there too. I've been working with her for a while now, but we were caught. Do you remember her? She remembers you. 'Carman's girl,' she called you. She told me all about how nearly six years ago, you arrived at the brothel with your mother, and disappeared that very same night. The night a beggar's body was found inside the halls of the brothel, tunic unbuttoned. He had been stabbed to death. Was it a coincidence? I hope so.
                          
Do you understand now? How horrible all of this has been for me? It's not your fault. Not really, at least. Truthfully, the only thing that keeps me going is the hope that I'll see you again someday. Soon. It's my only hope, really. My only goal. All I want. Sometimes, when things seem especially daunting, I think of what the look on your face will be when you see me for the first time in what has been much, much too long. It makes me smile.
                          
Love,
                          
Vance Ximenez 

                          
I feel sick. I reread the letter, once, twice, three times, pure, pellucid horror ricocheting through me. 
                          
Valerie.
                          
Manar.
                          
How am I supposed to have a heart when I've stopped so many others?
                          
Sometimes, when things seem especially daunting, I think of what the look on your face will be when you see me for the first time in what has been much, much too long. It makes me smile.
                          
This letter isn't from Vance.
                          
My hands clench into fists. The sound of paper crumpling rings in my ears. A panicked sort of rage festers inside me.
                          
Manar, Manar, Manar. 
                          
I feel questioning, worried eyes on me, so I force myself to look up from the crumpled letter in my hands. My gaze immediately meets Kye's.