ᴇQᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴇʀᴀɴɢᴇᴅ

𝟱

"Say no more." Cardo's voice was steady, unwavering. He pulled his locks into a loose bun before rolling up his sleeves, revealing the intricate ink that snaked along his forearms. His eyes, cold and calculating, flickered over the lifeless, bloody body sprawled across the bed.

"Grab the bleach. Two rags. A mop. Don't touch anything else," he ordered, his tone sharp, leaving no room for argument. He pulled a pair of gloves from his back pocket and tossed them to me. "Matter of fact, put these on."

My hands trembled as I tried to slide the gloves on, but my fingers felt disconnected from my body, fumbling uselessly. The room smelled of iron and sweat, and my stomach churned. Cardo turned to me, grabbing my face with his rough but warm hands. He gave me a light slap—not to hurt me, but enough to pull me back from the edge.

"Focus, Desi," he said firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine. Then, softer, he placed a quick peck on my lips. "I got you, aight?"

I swallowed hard and nodded, forcing my legs to move. Downstairs, I grabbed the supplies like a programmed machine, my body moving on autopilot. I felt detached—like I was watching myself from above, a puppet whose strings were being yanked in all directions. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was the dissociation. Maybe it was both.

Together, we cleaned up, erasing the evidence, making it look like a robbery gone wrong. Every wipe, every scrub, every step away from the scene of the crime made me feel emptier.

By the time we were done, I felt like a shell of myself.

The drive back to my apartment was quiet except for the occasional hum of the engine. When Cardo finally turned off the ignition, he exhaled deeply, running a hand over his face before reaching for a blunt. He lit it with a flick of his lighter, inhaling deeply before speaking.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked, his voice softer now, but still edged with concern.

I stared out the window at the streetlights flickering against the darkness. "Dejah and Cookie took over," I whispered. "He fucked me."

Cardo's jaw tightened. "No, Desi. He raped you. If Cookie took over, that means you weren't safe."

My throat tightened. "It's not rape if I like it." The words came out barely above a whisper, but they felt like acid against my tongue.

Cardo turned to me, his expression dark, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "Desiree, listen to me. Your body's reaction doesn't mean consent. You weren't in control. You didn't give him permission. That makes it non-consensual."

I knew he was right. But knowing it and believing it were two different things.

"I should have been the one to kill him," he muttered, exhaling smoke, his knuckles white as he clenched his fist. "Did you take your pills?"

I lowered my gaze, playing with the hem of my shirt. "No," I admitted.

He sighed, rubbing his temple. "Desi, you know you can't miss a day. You need to take care of yourself. I won't always be here. I have a flight to catch."

My chest tightened at the reminder. He was leaving. I shouldn't care. I should be used to it.

"You want me to come inside?" he asked, squeezing my thigh gently. "Say the word, and I'm yours. I'll stay."

I shook my head. "No. You have a plane to catch. Plus... I'd rather be alone."

I reached for the door handle but hesitated. The words left my lips before I could stop them.

"I missed you."

He sighed, leaning over to tug my hand toward him. "Come here."

Slowly, he leaned in, his dark eyes locked onto mine, lips slightly parted. That look—the one that always sent a shiver down my spine. That intoxicating pull he had over me. He kissed me softly, trailing his lips from my mouth to my cheek, then my forehead, and finally to the sensitive spot on my neck.

"Goodnight," he murmured against my skin. "Remember to take your pills and get some rest. I love you. You know that."

I nodded, my voice failing me. Instead, I pecked him on the lips one last time. "Thanks again."

Stepping out of the car, I walked toward my dark, quiet apartment. As soon as I shut the door behind me, the silence wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket.

I was alone again.