Part 3

Nights of wild, emotionless, and aggressive sex were the norm in Patrick's life. It allowed him to stay somewhat distant from his past, forgetting his sorrows and burying his regrets. The fiery abyss he was submerged in had turned the most perverse, sadistic, and lustful acts into his addiction. As a result, it became a habit to find the young man, with his translucent skin and jet-black hair, surrounded by a coven of women in his bedroom most of the time.

“Leaving already?” asked one of the women lying on his bed as she saw Patrick putting on his robe. The young man offered a fleeting smile and left the room, leaving them unsatisfied, still craving more pleasure.

After passing through the thick door, his expression grew pale. No matter how much pleasure he gave his body, his mind and heart wouldn’t let him forget her. Forget her skin, forget her kisses, forget her touch, forget... how much he loved her. At the end of the day, in the dead of night, Patrick knew that those moments of lust were nothing more than a placebo. Meaningless acts that could never fill the void she had left.

“Patrick…” he heard a shattered whisper in front of him.

He lifted his head to see that the trembling voice came from Annie, who stood worried, concerned about the fragile and desolate look of the man she loved. Patrick was surprised to see her, but within seconds, his face shifted into an expression of complete neutrality. Without a word, he began walking, leaving the red-haired woman behind.

“Why do you keep feeding on garbage?” Annie asked as he walked away.

Suddenly, with supernatural speed, Patrick was behind her. With a subtle gesture, he held one of her hands, and with the other, he gently caressed her face as if she were a porcelain doll.

“You know I’m yours,” Annie sighed as she felt the young man’s breath on her cold skin. “I’ve always belonged to you… and I always will,” she whispered, lost in his caresses and the scent of lavender.

Annie was undeniably attractive to Patrick. Her delicate curves and soft features contrasted with her rocker style, which reflected her direct and sometimes aggressive personality. Her black-streaked hair stood out against her wine-red locks, and her skin, even paler than Patrick’s, was adorned with a sprinkling of rosy freckles.

Patrick cared for Annie, but not in the way she wanted. He held her in high regard, considering her almost like a sister. That’s why, when his most primal instincts emerged from the absence of that "something" so essential to him, he pushed her away—for her own good. He wanted to protect her, to shield her from the suffering and uncertainty that would come from being part of his self-destructive and emotionally chaotic world.

“I’m not in the mood,” he replied, realizing how he had acted toward her.

He let go of her gently and resumed his march, intent on distancing himself. However, after a few steps, he felt Annie’s hand grip his fist, holding him back. Now it was she who was clinging to him, her arms trembling but wrapped tightly around his broad, muscular back.

“Can’t you forget her?” Annie asked, her voice desperate. “Can’t you put me in her place? I’d make you happier,” she whispered, her voice breaking, almost suffocated.

Patrick abruptly pulled her away and, with firm, decisive steps, continued walking without looking back, ignoring Annie’s desperate cries and heart-wrenching sobs.

He knew he wasn’t capable of returning her genuine and abundant love. That’s why, even though he was aware that his ways were far from ideal and Annie’s feelings for him were constant, sometimes he forced himself to reject her in the harshest way possible—trying, little by little, to destroy the idealized affection she held for him.

Patrick passed through the door to another room, and as he closed it with his back, he slid down to the floor.

Once again, he was at his limit. The pain was too overwhelming for him to stand. He couldn’t understand the point of his existence if he could no longer be with her… And as a blood-stained tear began to trace its path down from his crystal-clear emerald eyes, Patrick completely broke down. Absolute sorrow consumed him once more, and a sob echoed through the most melancholic silence.