Reborn In a Murderer’s Embrace

Coastline Avenue was a far cry from its former glory. The demolition signs hung like weary sentinels as I parked the car a good distance away and made my way on foot.

Colin was a silent shadow trailing behind me, his inner turmoil palpable, yet he couldn't find the words to stop me nor hide his disapproval of my meeting with Zoe.

Frustration simmered within me. It was always the same with him—hindering my path, yet withholding his reasons.

If he had just said it outright—that Zoe was dangerous, capable of causing harm, or offered any tangible reason, I would've listened. But his stubborn silence? That was a different story. How could I possibly accept that?

"Phoebe…" His voice barely reached me as he trailed three meters back, his head hung low. Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

I glanced back at him. Tall and lanky, he held a fragile sort of beauty when he donned those oversized hoodies, as if the world had somehow wronged him.

I snorted and kept walking, refusing to give in. I couldn't let him get too comfortable with having his way.

Being ignored seemed to tug at his heartstrings, his eyes rimmed with red, his nose sniffling as he kept his distance.

I picked up the pace, letting my mood dictate my stride.

Wasn't I entitled to some normal human emotions? My husband was keeping secrets, protecting the one who harmed me. Of course, I was angry. Why should I be rational with my loved one? I wanted to throw a tantrum, wasn't he supposed to indulge me and share the truth?

I turned into an alley, seething inside, only to find it cluttered with loiterers and vagrants, puffing on cigarettes. An innate fear of these types lingered from the time Dexter roughed me up at Nocturne.

"Hey, sweetheart, how much for a good time?"

"Looking for some fun, are you?"

Their lewd comments stung the air, as if every woman who ventured here was tainted.

I tried to rush past, but they seemed intrigued, blocking my path with filthy taunts. Fear gripped me, and I instinctively looked for Colin.

When I turned, I crashed into his embrace.

"I'm here," he whispered, holding me close.

The men scoffed but retreated at Colin's icy stare. He took my hand and guided me through the long, grim alley.

"Colin, do you think I'm being too dramatic?" I asked quietly.

He laced his fingers with mine, glancing back at me.

"Phoebe, you once asked me what fear felt like, what dependence was, what terror meant..." Colin murmured, half to me, half to himself.

"You said you were a monster, born emotionless, longing to experience a normal life. You envied the foolish, the girls who hid behind boys. You said you'd trade all your logic and intellect for a simple life..."

As Colin spoke, we walked deeper into the alley, its depths shadowy and damp, seemingly endless.

For a moment, I saw the Colin of the past, ill-fitting clothes and all, clearing each obstacle in that alley for me.

"So, Phoebe, I won't think you're being dramatic. I'm happy for you; you've succeeded in finding a new life. This is what you wanted, and I just want to safeguard everything for you," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

I struggled to grasp his meaning. Was he saying that the old me was too smart and emotionless like a machine? That I wanted to dumb down, to become flesh and blood, to be dramatic like now?

Frowning, I tugged at Colin. "So, what you're saying is, you still think I'm being dramatic, huh?"

Colin offered a sheepish smile and a shake of his head. "I didn't say that."

With an indignant huff, I pulled away from his grip and stormed upstairs.