The Masks in Your Life (Ghost x Reader)

t h i r t e e n

You took a deep breath and sent Ghost a bitter smile, wiping the drying tears from your skin.

"I have one last question", you said then, slowly turning around to Mike.

He hummed amusedly and raised his brows, eagerly awaiting the attention being back on him.

"Something not yet clicking in that pretty little head of yours?", he snarled, but you ignored the jibe.

Ghost kept an attentive eye on you as you got up from the bed to walk towards Mike, partly to make sure that you wouldn't get too close and partly to observe.

"Did you ever love me?"

There was a short silence as you towered over Mike, and you regretted having asked that question because you were sure you would get the answer you feared.

But why should you care at this point? It wouldn't change the outcome of this day, no matter if the answer was yes or no.

Although you blocked the light from illuminating his face, you swore you could see a hint of compassion in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. Instead, he looked at you like your dad had before telling you that your hamster died.

"Don't be stupid", he taunted, and you swallowed harshly, "there is no such thing."

He wanted to make you cry again, finding sick amusement in your suffering. When you stayed silent, your eyes boring holes into his skull, he felt the need to push further to elicit a reaction.

"It's nothing personal, (y/n). You were pretty, available, and so desperate for a strong man in your life."

You scoffed and bit your cheek in diffidence. His lips curled into a mocking sneer, pleased with himself.

"Very strong of you", you shot back then, and it finally wiped some of the smugness from his face, "why marry me in the first place? What was in it for you except having someone to wipe your arse and clean up after you? Could've asked your mum to live with you."

Ghost raised his brows and huffed at your sudden outburst, a warm tinge of pride in his chest. Mike felt the opposite, fortunately for you.

"You're a vicious little bitch", he spat through his teeth.

It felt so, bloody good – no, good was an understatement – it felt ecstatic to see him fall apart in front of you, simply because of your words. Him being so easy to work up fuelled your resistance and ignited a fire in you.

The change within you happened as sudden as the bird breaking the spider's net with its beak, the butterfly finally free from the death trap.

"What was in it for me? Are you sure you want to know?", he bellowed, and he thought you were on thin ice already, one more shock and it would break, letting you fall into the depths of the cold water below.

He couldn't possibly know that it was the opposite. Every further provocation would just help you to break free from him.

"Spit it out", you demanded lowly.

"You did everything for me like a fucking slave, and until it got boring, I could always get a good fuck out of you, but you'd never guess why I kept you around. Wanna guess?"

He gritted his teeth, and if he wasn't tied up, he would probably charge at you.

"Not really."

His words still hurt, no matter how much you wanted them to bounce off of your skin. But you wouldn't show him that, not over your dead body.

"You were my insurance", he spat.

Insurance. Just like you heard Mr Harris say over the speaker earlier.