Chapter 3 Chapitre 3

A chair flies through the room and crashes against the wall. My breath is short, my fists tight, and I have never felt so much rage in my life.

- You are a monster.

My voice trembles, no fear, but of fury contained. He is there, impassive, leaning against the office as if none of this has of any importance. As if my explosion of anger did not reach him.

- A monster? He repeats in an almost amused tone.

His gaze captures mine, of unbearable calm.

- This is how you see me?

- How do you want me to see you? You removed me. You kept me a prisoner. You speak to me as if I had no rights, as if I were a damn object that belongs to you!

I am progressing, defying the space between us.

- So yes, Maxime. You are a monster.

Silence is set up, heavy, stretched like a thread ready to break.

Then he finally moves. Slowly.

He straightens up, approaches with this calculated approach which exasperates me as much as it troubles me.

- I could be, he whispers.

His gaze does not leave mine.

- But not for the reasons you believe.

I shake my head, furious.

- Don't play this game with me. What do you think? That if you speak with enough mystery, I will forget what you have done?

He doesn't answer right away.

He scrutinizes me, as if he weighed each word before freeing them.

- What I did ...

He stops a few centimeters from me.

- It was necessary.

A bitter laugh escapes me.

- You have a good definition of this word.

- You don't understand.

- So explain to me.

I challenge him.

- Go ahead, Maxime. Tell me why. Tell me what, in your disturbed head, made you think that it was the only option.

He inspires slowly, and I see him hesitate. Just a fraction of a second.

Then, finally, he speaks.

- Because if I didn't do it, you would be dead.

My throat tightens.

- Nice excuse.

He nods.

- I suspected it. You are not ready to hear the truth.

I look up to the sky.

- Because there is a "truth" behind it?

His expression hardens.

- Yes.

- So tell her.

- No.

I step back.

- You are a coward.

- No.

He meets his arms, his gaze anchored in mine.

- I protect you.

I laugh again, without joy.

- Who are you protecting, exactly? Or your secret?

He does not answer.

And that's where I understand.

My heart misses a beat.

- That's it, right?

I scrutinize him, looking for the slightest flaw.

- I am not in danger. It's you.

I see his jaw contracting, a new tension on his face however so controlled.

- You hide something.

A silence.

Then, in an almost inaudible whisper:

- Yes.

I freeze.

He did not try to deny.

My heart gets carried away.

- What is this ?

- Something you are not ready to hear.

- Try me.

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if he weighed the extent of his answer.

- Do you believe in monsters, Émilie?

A thrill crosses me.

- What is this question?

- Answer me.

His gaze is more intense, almost hypnotic.

- No, of course not.

- So this is your mistake.

He is still advancing, and this time, I instinctively back down.

- Because they exist.

A silence.

I shake my head, trying to chase the thrill that goes up along my spine.

- You are delirious.

- Really ?

His voice is low, threatening.

- Look me in the eye and tell me I lie.

I open my mouth, ready to reply.

But his eyes.

They change.

It's not an illusion.

It's not a play of light.

It's ... real.

My throat is tied.

- What are you?

He does not answer.

But he doesn't need to do it.

Because, for the first time since my abduction, a real fear infiltrates my skin.

And this time, it's not him that I fear.

That's what it is.

I remain frozen, unable to look away. What I just saw defy everything I think possible. His wardrobe pupils have taken on a supernatural shade, an almost bestial shine. The illusion lasts only a second. A fraction of a second, but it is enough for my whole body to freeze under the icy wave of fear.

- You have seen, he whispers.

This is not a question.

My breathing is erratic. I want to deny, rationalize, find an explanation. But none comes to me.

- What are you?

My voice is weak. This is not an accusation. It's a supplication.

His expression closes. His impassiveness mask returns, but it's too late. I saw him tremble. I saw him hesitate.

- I'm just a man, Émilie.

I laugh, a nervous, uncontrollable laugh.

- A man does not do ... that.

He does not respond immediately. His gaze slides on me, calculating, but there is something different this time. A crack in his armor.

- You would not understand.

- Try me.

He approaches, and this time, I do not back down. He reaches his hand slowly, as if he feared my reaction, then stopped him a few centimeters from my arm. I have a short breath.

- You are terrified.

It is not a provocation. It's not even a reproach.

This is an observation.

I swallow with difficulty.

- I don't even know what I should fear.

He sketches a smile, a smile that has nothing amused.

- It may be better as well.

His hand finally borders on my arm. I wander. His contact is... different. Not cold, not hot. Just intense.

I want to repel him, scream, tell him that none of that makes sense.

But I don't move.

- You have removed the bad person, I said in a more fragile voice than I would have liked.

His thumb tackles my skin.

- I'm not sure of that.

My heart gets carried away.

- Why me?

He does not respond immediately. His gaze lingers on my features, looking for something that I cannot identify.

- Because you saw something you shouldn't have seen.

- I don't understand.

- You will understand.

He backs up slightly, but his gaze is always anchored to mine.

- You tried to flee.

I squeeze my teeth.

- And I will start again.

His smile is stealthy.

- This is what I thought.

A silence.

Then, against all odds, he reaches out to me.

- Come.

I frowns.

- Where?

- Do you want answers?

I nod in despite myself.

- So follow me.

I don't know why I do it. Maybe because I have no choice. Maybe because a part of me wants to understand.

I take his hand.

And this time, I can't ignore the thrill that runs through my spine.