Fear

20 • Confrontation

When I was finally well enough to move around on my own, the small hospital room made me restless. I felt sick knowing that the man who violated me was still out there, probably doing it to other women too. I wanted to confront Tyler about it. I needed answers, closure, or maybe just a chance to unleash the anger that simmered beneath the surface.

I made my way down the corridor to his office, in my hospital gown, my steps hesitant yet determined. The voice in my head, before, a haunting presence, now egged me on with demands for revenge. It whispered venomous suggestions, urging me to break him as he had broken me.

Tyler glanced up from his desk as I entered, his expression guarded yet seemingly expectant. His eyes flickered with something unreadable-perhaps concern, maybe even guilt. I braced myself, unsure of what to say first. The voice, persistent as ever, demanded that I should be the one to destroy that man.

"I want him dead." I said, my voice steady but edged with bitterness. Tyler's response was unexpected, unsettling.

"It's already done," he replied simply, his gaze not leaving mine. His tone lacked remorse, and I felt a chill run down my spine. The voice in my head seethed with anger, urging me to press further, to demand that I should've been the one to do it.

How could he be so calm? Did he truly understand the depth of the pain he had caused? The voice, growing impatient, demanded action, pushing me to play on his weaknesses.

"No. I wanted to do it." I challenged through gritted teeth, my voice gaining an unexpected edge. "You think it's over? Is that it?"

Tyler's demeanor shifted imperceptibly, a flicker of unease crossing his features. He knew I was probing, testing him. The voice whispered more suggestions, urging me to push him further, to exploit the rifts in his armor.

"I know what you fear," I stated teasingly, emboldened by the voice's relentless prodding. "I know how to make you suffer."

His eyes widened slightly, but then narrowed, a trace of apprehension surfacing briefly before he masked it with a cold facade. The tension between us crackled like static electricity, palpable in the air. The voice egged me on, hungry for more.

But Tyler was not so easily rattled. With a calculated calmness, he leaned back in his chair and fixed me with a penetrating gaze.

"I'm not stupid. You're listening to the voice, Emily," he remarked softly, a note of resignation in his voice. "The one that tells you how to hurt me."

I froze, my heart pounding. How did he know? The voice, once my ally in vengeance, now seemed to betray me, exposing my vulnerabilities. Tyler's next words cut through the silence, revealing a truth I hadn't expected.

"I used to listen to that voice too," he admitted, his voice calm and measured, but with a threatening undertone. "It's a dangerous companion."

I swallowed hard, grappling with the revelation. The voice had been my solace, my guide through the darkness. Yet here it was, a weapon in Tyler's hands, turning against me when I needed it most.

The room felt smaller, suffocating. I needed to regain control - to assert dominance. I glared at him, trying to control the situation, trying to control him.

He glared back for a few minutes, an intense stare-off that tested both of us. But he cracked before me.

Tyler's face twisted with anger, his hands slamming onto the desk with a force that made me flinch. I stood my ground, fueled by a reckless determination to push him to the brink.

Break him, the voice whispered urgently.

In a daring move, I leaned forward and kissed him. It was a split-second decision, a calculated risk to unsettle him, to assert my own power in his game. Tyler froze in shock, his initial hesitation giving way to a brief moment of surrender. His lips responded to mine, a fleeting taste of something deeper amidst the chaos.

But reality crashed back in, and he pulled away abruptly, his hands pushing me backwards. I stumbled, catching myself on the chair behind me, my heart pounding in my chest. The victory, however brief, filled me with a great sense of satisfaction. The voice praised me. I smirked.

Tyler's face contorted with a mix of fear and rage, his breaths heavy and laboured.
"Get. Out!" he screamed, his voice raw.

I held his gaze for a moment longer, a teasing smile playing on my lips before I turned and quietly slipped out of the room.

As I stepped into the corridor, Tyler's screams continued, sounding pained, as if he might have been... crying.

I had successfully broken him. The victory was mine, but beneath the surface, doubt gnawed at me.

I figured it out that day. His fear was not of me, but of loving me. He feared love...

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