A demon from the past

RYAN

I shoved my hands into my pockets, my footsteps echoing against the cobblestones as I left Violet behind in the garden. She looked so damn perfect there, bathed in the soft glow of the lanterns, her hair catching the faint breeze. For a moment, I hesitated, almost unwilling to leave her alone. She had a way of making me feel like gravity wasn’t something that could hold me anymore, and honestly, it scared the hell out of me.

But I had plans. Plans that I wasn’t about to screw up.

My stride quickened as I made my way through the estate, heading toward the small, private courtyard where the delivery was supposed to arrive. I glanced at my watch—still on schedule, thank God. The last thing I needed was for this to fall apart. Violet deserved something... good. Something that wasn’t tainted by the mess of our lives or the chaos that always seemed to follow me around.

As I reached the courtyard, a sleek black car pulled in, its headlights slicing through the dim evening light. The driver stepped out, a sharp-looking guy in a tailored suit, holding a large, rectangular package wrapped in crisp black paper. Perfect timing.

“Mr. Jenkins?” he asked, his voice smooth and professional.

“That’s me,” I said, stepping forward and taking the package from him. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt significant in my hand. 

“Thank you.” I muttered, more to myself than to the driver.

The guy nodded, oblivious to the meaning behind my words. “You are welcome sir.” he said before retreating to his car and driving off into the street

I stood there for a moment, staring down at the package in my hands. Inside was something I had spent weeks preparing. It wasn’t perfect—not by any means—but it was hers. I made it during those long, quiet nights when she was in Boston, and I was left alone with nothing but my thoughts. Boredom had driven me to create it, but it was more than that. It was a piece of me, a reflection of feelings I couldn’t fully articulate.

I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to show it to her, but holding back any longer felt impossible. My fingers tightened around the edges of the package as if grounding myself.

Behind me, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed faintly on the cobblestone. A smile tugged at my lips. Of course, Violet couldn’t stay away from me for long.

“Missed me already, mouse?” I said, tilting my head backward, expecting to meet her wide, curious eyes.

But my smile froze.

Instead of her, I stared into a pair of dark, piercing eyes I would recognize anywhere. Any-fucking-where.

The monster from my past.

The reason I’m broken.

She was here, standing inches away from me.

“We meet again, Ryan,” she said, her voice as familiar as the nightmares that never left me. “It’s been so long.”

Monsters. They take different forms in the minds of those they haunt. For some, they are shadowy phantoms, lurking in the corners of the imagination. For others, they are grotesque beasts hiding beneath the bed, waiting for the cover of darkness to strike.

For me, a monster has always had a face. Stern, square-shaped, framed by a severe auburn bun, and wielding a ruler like a weapon. Over the years, her image twisted in my mind, blending into the yellow-eyed demon that watched me from every dark corner.

Mrs. Margaret.

She was our househelp once—a short, plump woman with sagging cheeks and a perpetual scowl. She wore the same bland uniform of a black skirt and gray cardigan like a badge of authority. To everyone else, she was harmless. To me, she was the devil incarnate.

She quitted being an housekeeper when I was eleven, claiming to be travelling with her husband. By then, she had already ruined me. But that wasn’t the end.

No.

She came back weeks later, it was her voice I heard during my kidnapping. She was the one who orchestrated it. I never saw the face of her accomplice—the man who kept me locked in that filthy, dark hole—but I knew it was her husband. 

And now, here she was.

“You bitch,” I spat, gripping the package tighter, my knuckles whitening.

“Oh, Ryan,” she said, her voice dripping with mock hurt. “Is that any way to greet someone you haven’t seen in years?”

She stepped closer, and instinctively, I stepped back.

“You’ve grown into such a handsome man,” she said, her lips curling into the smile I hated so much.

“Don’t you dare,” I growled, my teeth clenched.

Her eyes gleamed with amusement, as though my anger was just another game to her.

“Oh, Ryan,” she said with a scoff. “Are you seriously still upset over a little misunderstanding from the past?”

“Misunderstanding?” My voice cracked, fury bubbling up as years of suppressed demons clawed their way out. “Did you just call it a misunderstanding? You fucking assaulted me. You kidnapped me. And I’m sure you killed my mom!”

My voice rose, drawing curious glances from nearby passersby. But I didn’t care. Let them look. Let them hear.

She tilted her head, her expression unfazed. “The kidnapping and your mother’s death were bound to happen, Ryan. She knew too much. I couldn’t let her ruin everything.”

The words hit me like a blow, and I struggled to breathe.

“And the assault?” I hissed, my voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Her face didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in her "You led me on,dear boy. You missed me back. You wanted it. Don’t stand here pretending otherwise.”

“I told you no!” I snapped, my voice cracking under the weight of my memories.

“Shh,” she said, scanning our surroundings. “What’s with the tone? You’re so much more elegant and composed now. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, Ryan. Ever since I saw you here in Italy. You’ve grown into a fine young man, but you really should reconsider your company. That Violet girl—”

She didn’t get to finish.

One minute she was here and the next, I lunged, slamming my palm against her face and shoving her against the nearest wall. Her head hit with a sickening thud. Her eyes widened, and for the first time, I saw fear in them.

Fear.

She was afraid of me

“Don’t you dare say her name,” I growled, my voice low and menacing. “Don’t talk about her. Don’t look at her. If you see her, you turn and walk the other fucking way. If you so much as breathe in her direction, I swear to God, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?”

She nodded, her face turning a deep shade of red as I pressed harder.

For a moment, the urge to end her pulsed through me, the thought of crushing her skull between my hands almost intoxicating. But I let go. Because how can I be with Violet i if I’m locked up for murder?

Mrs. Margaret straightened herself, rubbing her neck as she backed away, her expression a mixture of fear and indignation. “You’ve changed,” she muttered before disappearing into the crowd.

I stayed rooted to the spot, my heart pounding as her words echoed in my mind.

“Ryan?”

Violet’s voice snapped me out of my haze, and I turned to see her standing a few feet away, her brows knitted with concern.

“Is something wrong?” she asked softly.

I forced a smile, hiding the storm raging inside me. “No, mouse. Just got held up with the package. Let’s go.”

She studied me for a moment longer but eventually nodded, her lips curving into a gentle smile.

“Let’s see what’s in it!” she said, reaching for the package.

“Not yet,” I said, holding it away. “The garden first. We’ve got unfinished business.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she nodded, letting me guide her back. But even as we walked, the pounding in my head refused to ease—a relentless, fucking migraine tearing through my skull. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe Italy was a mistake. If I hadn’t set foot in this place, I wouldn’t have seen her.

No.

I drew in a deep breath, forcing the thought from my mind.

I wouldn’t trade the past week I’ve spent with Violet for anything in the world. Holding hands, being out in the open, going on dates, and just… being together. It’s been the happiest time of my life.

Until now.

But it’s going to be okay.

I’ve survived years of hell. I can survive this.