I WOULD KILL FOR YOU

Chapter 8: Deal with the Devil

I could have left. I remember standing there, fingers trembling as they hovered over my phone. The screen was glowing in the dark, bright against my skin. All I had to do was call. One simple call and it would all be over. I could disappear. Tell the truth. Let someone else deal with the mess. Let someone else deal with him.

But I didn’t.

I sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the blood circling the drain. It wasn’t even mine. That part scared me more than anything. Not the blood. Not the body in the garage. Not Dario. No, what scared me was how calm I felt. How steady my hands were now. How natural it had started to feel.

He found me there, still, silent, watching the water swirl red. His shirt was stained and torn. His knuckles were bruised. There was a cut under his eye, dried blood crusting over it. He didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned against the doorframe, breathing like he had run a marathon.

“You’re still here,” he said after a long pause.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

He smiled then. It wasn’t the smile he gave strangers. Not the charming, fake one he wore like a mask. This one was small. Real. Twisted at the corners with something soft. Almost grateful.

That’s when I realized something terrifying.

He needed me.

Not just wanted. Not just liked having me around. He needed me. And I—I didn’t hate it.

I stood up, grabbed the bleach from under the sink, and handed it to him. We cleaned the bathroom in silence. We didn’t talk about what happened. We didn’t talk about who it was or why it had to be done. I didn’t ask. Not because I didn’t care. But because I knew that if I did, he would tell me. And I wasn’t ready to hear it.

Later that night, I asked him to teach me how to clean up. The right way. He looked at me like he didn’t believe what he was hearing. But he didn’t question it.

He just nodded.

And that’s how it started.

I started helping. Small things at first. Cleaning. Hiding. Covering. I learned how to wash blood out of clothes, how to erase fingerprints, how to smile and lie at the same time. I learned which neighbors to avoid and which ones to charm. I even laughed when Mrs. Langley asked about the screaming last night. Told her we were watching a horror movie. Said Dario gets too into it sometimes. She believed me.

Of course she did.

Who would suspect me? The quiet girl next door. The one who keeps to herself. The one who walks her dog at the same time every morning and waves politely at the mailman.

The innocent one.

Except I wasn’t innocent anymore.

Maybe I never was.

There was a part of me—hidden, buried deep—that liked it. The thrill. The secret. The way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world who understood him. Like I was his anchor. His home.

Sometimes, late at night, I would lie awake in bed and wonder who I had become. The girl who used to be scared of her own shadow. The one who cried during crime shows and skipped the violent parts in movies. She was gone. Replaced by someone colder. Stronger. Someone who could keep a straight face while burying a body.

Dario noticed it too. He didn’t say it, but I saw it in his eyes. The way he watched me. Carefully. Like I was something dangerous now too. And maybe I was.

I made my choice.

Maybe it wasn’t the right one. Maybe it was insane.

But I chose him.

The devil with a crooked smile and blood on his hands.

And I didn’t look back.

Not even once.

Because no matter how twisted it was, no matter how far we fell, the truth stayed the same.

He wasn’t just a monster.

He was my monster.

And I was his.