You Were My Goodbye

Beeping. Monitors.

Sunset slipped through the blinds, pooling on the sofa like scattered gold.

I blinked. The nightmare faded. I sat up.

A man sat on the couch, head down, peeling an apple.

Long, pale fingers worked neatly. Soon a perfect fruit appeared.

Clean. Round.

Nico.

He heard me move. Looked up. Without a word, he pressed the call button.

A doctor came, checked my pupils, confirmed I was stable, and said to Nico, "She's malnourished. More protein in her diet."

Nico nodded. "Thank you."

The door closed.

He came to the bed and held out the apple. "Don't think about anything. Just get better."

I didn't take it. I got up and searched the closet.

My phone was gone. No outside clothes.

He let me rummage.

"Nico, what do you want?"

I stood barefoot on the floor. Sunlight fell on the window glass, showing my pale, haggard reflection.

"You know what I want." He put the apple on the nightstand and wiped his hands slowly. "I want you."

He sat right there in the light, his dark eyes fixed on me—hot, humiliating.

I trembled, clenched my fists. "Nico, you can't treat me like this."

He stood and came over in two steps, towering over me. He smoothed my hair.

"Why not?"

"I'm in love with someone else. Please stop."

"Oh, really?" His face was expressionless.

He cupped my face and leaned down, stopping a centimeter from my lips.

I couldn't break free. When I turned my head, I closed my eyes and shivered involuntarily.

Nico laughed. His cold voice slipped into my ear.

"Valentina. You're lying."