Chapter 506: Live For Me

Angela could still clearly remember how it all went down last night. She could still feel the pain at the side of her head when they hit her, the weight of the assailant crushing her from above as he tried to subdue her and hit her with his heavy hand, the harsh reality that no one could save her at that moment if she didn't try to save herself, the difficulty of staying sane while struggling so that she could escape from his clutches; hear wince of pain from when his nose broke and the sound of gurgling when she slammed his windpipe, and the silence when he stopped breathing.

She could still see flashes of images in her head when out of nowhere, Lauretta jumped on her back and started pulling her hair; sense the mixture of fear and rage bubbling inside her when she finally came face to face with the woman she barely knew but caused her emotional distress; feel the pain shooting to her skull when her hair was grabbed again, and Lauretta punched her cheek, the slamming of her back against a hard object after she was pushed, the slice of the knife on her skin that Lauretta tried to cut her with.

She could hear the sound of Lauretta's screams and curses saying everything was Angela's fault; see the crazed look on Lauretta's face when she lunged at her with a knife above her head, yelling wildly; feel the way her heart dropped to her stomach after realizing she had squeezed the trigger and Lauretta earned a hole in her body.

She could hear the sound of Lauretta's knees slamming down the floor before her body slumped over. And hear the voice in her head telling her: "You're a killer."

Perhaps people who hadn't killed before would think that the scariest part would be the after-math—the realization of death, the loss of life, the act itself. But for Angela, she could maybe catalog this in her brain and just tell herself as simply as: They're just not here anymore. They went somewhere else, far away where no one could reach them. Like they've stopped existing.

What's making her sad and feeling so…frightened was the vivid image that before the lights went out of the assailant's and Lauretta's eyes, they were staring right at Angela. As if they cursed her for killing them. As if they cursed her for taking their life into her own hands. As if they wanted her to see that it was because of her that they now ceased to exist. As if the trauma they caused her wasn't enough—they had to make sure she would remember the vacant look in their eyes just before they slipped from the clutches of life.

Angela didn't know how long she cried against Gael's neck. It must be long enough for her throat to go dry and sore. But he didn't stop her. He let her cry and remained patient, stroking her back and tightening his arms around her. This was what Gael was best at, making her feel better. He held her close, right, and tight as if he wanted to absorb all the pain she was feeling. As if doing so would make her whole again.

But the truth was, she knew she would never be the same again.

When her breathing slowed down, he pulled back and braced her face between his hands. "Baby, look at me."

Angela's lips trembled, and it wasn't until he lifted her chin with two fingers that she met his stare. He looked equally pained, just like how she was feeling.

"Angel… You did a good thing."

"Killing someone is good?"

He ignored the question. Instead, he said, "You did a good thing protecting yourself."

She sniffed, a tear sliding down her cheek, which he caught with his thumb. "But I don't feel good. My chest hurts. It's like I'm the one dying."

"I know, baby. I know what you mean." He placed a sweet, tender kiss on her forehead. Angela took hold of his words and grabbed onto them. Usually, others would say words like that just to "comfort" the one who's suffering. But Gael's words couldn't be any more accurate. If there was someone who could really understand what she was going through, it had to be him. It had to be the people around her in this secret hideaway—the people who had killed and who would kill.

But knowing that Gael understood made Angela feel…seen, heard, felt. 

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"But you know what I think?" He held her gaze. "I think you were brave. You did what you could to survive. You went in a victim, but you came out a victor. If you didn't do what you did back in the van… I—" He briefly closed his eyes as if willing himself not to think of the worst. "Those people deserved it, and they had it coming. It was either you or them. You're a fighter. That's what you are. And fighters survive. You did what you had to do, Angel. And don't blame yourself for staying alive when all they did was try to kill you."

Angela wrapped her hands around his wrist as if to anchor to him. "Will I ever forget? Will it ever become easy?"

His thumbs stroked her cheeks, wiping more silent tears as he slowly shook his head. "I never forgot mine. I did try…but I don't think anyone has ever discovered a way to do so. And honestly? I don't think I should. I think remembering what I did keeps me going. Because once I forget what I did or who I was…am, Then I won't be me anymore."

She looked into his eyes and saw the truth in them. And he might never know the full extent of what he was doing for her, but she evidently felt better as she stared at her reflection in his gaze. Because Gael still looked at her the same. The way he looked at her was the same as when he first told her he loved her, when he asked her to marry him, when he told her he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. If anything, the way he looked at her now seemed more profound. Like he was really seeing her, and he liked what he saw.

There would never be anyone else. Time and time again, Gael showed her how different they were, and yet also the same.

Sliding her arms around his neck, careful not to touch his wound, Angela kissed his jaw. "I really was afraid for us last night. I haven't loved you enough yet."

Gael stilled for a second before his arms came around her, pulling her closer. "Me, too. I was afraid I lost my chance."

"Chance?"

"To love you more."

Angela crawled onto his lap, and he let her curl up against his body. "Can you promise me one thing?"

"Anything, baby."

She savored the way his whispers felt against the sensitive skin below her ear. Then she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "Promise me you'll live for me?"

Gael's brows furrowed for a bit before his expression softened as if he was trying to figure out her thoughts. "I would die for you, Angel."

"I know. And I would do the same for you…" Angela brushed her fingertips on the curve of his jaw. "But I'd rather us live for each other."

His answer came not in words but rather with how he kissed her.. Slow, sweet, firm, and certain.

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