  &quot;I need to show you.&quot; Alexi gets up quickly, eyes still avoiding me, and walks off toward his room leaving me to sit here like a confused idiot. Watching the direction he went in and straining to listen to sounds as he disappears. I expect to hear a drawer open or something similar, but it sounds like he's punching in the digits on his safe keypad instead. Whatever he wants to show me he keeps in his bedroom safe.
      Now I'm worried.
      He doesn't use that thing like an extra cupboard; he uses it as its purpose intends. To store things you wouldn't want others getting hold of.
      I wonder if it's something sinister or creepy; I mean he is the master at shocking me to the core with the lengths he goes to with his devil side. I'm not sure what I'm expecting but my gut says it's not good at all.
      I fidget, fingers itching, so I pull a cushion into my lap to focus m

  &quot;What?&quot; it's that knee-jerk reaction of a response and he visibly closes up as he turns to face me. Caught out. Shutting down to deadpan when cornered.
      &quot;You went there? You were in that shithole? Why?&quot; It's an accusatory tone, spat at him in response. I swallow hard, blood running cold at how much worse this is getting, and slowly I try to sit on the edge of the table, my legs turning to jelly and giving way on me. Forgetting about the box and weakening to lightheaded, that this night just keeps getting worse.
      I didn't think it could, and yet he has this great habit of proving me wrong. Alexi in Hackney, in the place I lived. The squalor and shame of that run-down shithole.
      Oh, God.
      Alexi seems restless and paces away as though he too is having a hard time reeling in a reaction or his thoughts and feelings. This feels like one very long night

  Alexi steps towards me and I step back. A clear signal I don't want him near me, and he relents. Stopping himself and moves away instead, to give me space, the flicker of pain evident as his eyes dip to avoid me for a second.
      A show of real emotion. Who knew he was capable of such things? Capable of showing me he is human after all.
      It just makes the ache grow, spreading from my stomach out to every limb and even my face trembles with the agony I'm feeling.
      &quot;You were always worthy. I just screwed everything up. I was scared, I was torn, I was lost in my own mistrust of you. Blinded by what I believed. I was protecting myself.&quot;
      He sounds how I feel. Like he knows that this is pointless, and the past is more than can be overcome.
      &quot;So, what changed?&quot; My voice cracks, face wet with my sadness, and I curl my arms around myself and try to giv

&quot;I need to show you.&quot; Alexi gets up quickly, eyes still avoiding me, and walks off toward his room leaving me to sit here like a confused idiot. Watching the direction he went in and straining to listen to sounds as he disappears. I expect to hear a drawer open or something similar, but it sounds like he's punching in the digits on his safe keypad instead. Whatever he wants to show me he keeps in his bedroom safe.
      Now I'm worried.
      He doesn't use that thing like an extra cupboard; he uses it as its purpose intends. To store things you wouldn't want others getting hold of.
      I wonder if it's something sinister or creepy; I mean he is the master at shocking me to the core with the lengths he goes to with his devil side. I'm not sure what I'm expecting but my gut says it's not good at all.
      I fidget, fingers itching, so I pull a cushion into my lap to focus my nervousness. I blow out some air to try to expel the tension and tap my foot absentmindedly, so 

Chapter 72