CHAPTER 92: GUILT

Chapter 92

Katya POV

My fingers hovered over the mask, so close I could feel the faint hiss of air escaping from beneath it.

One pull. That’s all it would take. One pull, one press and everything he’d ever done — every scream, every drop of blood, every nightmare — would end here.

I didn’t care about the consequences, about what would happen after.

But then... his eyelashes fluttered.

I froze.

For a heartbeat that stretched far too long, stormy gray eyes blinked open — groggy, unfocused, but awake — locking straight onto mine.

My body went rigid. Breath caught in my throat as if invisible hands had wrapped around my neck.

He was looking at me.

He was awake.

The room swayed. I stumbled back a step, heart ramming against my ribs so violently I thought it might crack them open.

Then — creak.

The door cracked open behind me, and I flinched so hard my elbow hit the metal rail of his bed.

"Cara mia?" Nonna’s voice was soft but puzzled. "What’s wrong?"

I spun around, pulse still thundering, and saw her wheel in with the doctor trailing close behind, scribbling something on her clipboard.

Nothing felt real. My skin buzzed. My throat refused to work. "H-he..." My voice trembled as I lifted a shaking finger toward the bed. "He’s—"

But when I turned back, his eyes were closed. Perfectly still. Peaceful. Like they had never moved at all.

My chest tightened painfully.

Did I imagine that?

Had my own guilt conjured it out of thin air? Or was it some sick trick of my conscience — a punishment for even thinking of killing him?

"Katya?" Nonna’s brow furrowed, her tone gentler now. "What happened, tesoro?"

"I..." My mouth felt like sandpaper. "I thought—"

The words died there, strangled by confusion and fear. I swallowed hard and shook my head. "Never mind."

But my hands were still trembling. And no matter how much I told myself it was just my mind playing tricks, I couldn’t shake the feeling that for one impossible second... he had been awake.

And he had seen me.

I hugged my arms tightly around myself as if that would stop the shaking. It didn’t. My body still felt like it was vibrating from the inside out.

Nonna’s eyes lingered on me longer than usual — too long — scanning every twitch, every uneven breath. She might not have said it, but I could tell she noticed.

"You’re pale," she murmured, stepping closer. Her hand, warm and steady, cupped my cheek. "And trembling. Did something happen while we were gone?"

I swallowed hard. "No. I just... the room’s cold, I think."

It was a pathetic excuse. And judging by the way her brow furrowed, she didn’t believe a word of it.

Her gaze flicked briefly to Romeo, then back to me. "You’re certain?" she asked softly — too softly.

Like she was trying not to scare off the truth hiding behind my lips. I forced a nod. " Yes."

Nonna hummed — a sound that told me she wasn’t convinced — but she didn’t push. Instead, she slipped an arm gently around mine and guided me a step away from the bed.

"Sometimes," she said, her voice low and careful, "memories can sneak up on us in places like this. They can make us see or feel things that aren’t truly there. And that’s okay, cara mia."

I blinked up at her, startled by how close to the truth she was without even knowing it.

"It’s normal to feel shaken," she continued, brushing a stray curl behind my ear.

"You’ve been through so much. Too much. And this..." — she glanced at the man lying silent on the bed — "this might trigger anyone."

I nodded again, though my heart still felt like it was clawing its way up my throat.

Not easy. That was one way to put it.

Terrifying was another.

Nonna gave my shoulder a final squeeze before stepping toward the bed, her expression softening as she looked at her grandson.

"Sleep, ragazzo mio," she whispered to him. "We’ll be right here when you wake."

I stared at his face — too still, too peaceful — and wondered if he had truly opened those eyes... or if it had just been my guilt staring back at me.

Either way, one thing was certain,

Something had shifted inside me. And nothing about this room — or the monster lying in that bed — felt the same anymore.

"I... I think I need some air," I blurted, my voice thinner than I intended.

Nonna’s head snapped toward me, brows knitting. "Now?"

I nodded quickly ,too quickly. "Just for a minute. The room feels... tight."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, the kind of look that said she was turning something over in her mind but choosing not to say it out loud.

She simply watched me — every twitch, every uneven breath — and I hated how naked it made me feel.

"Of course," she said finally, her tone gentle but laced with something I couldn’t quite read. "Go on, cara mia. Take a breath."

"Thank you," I murmured, already backing toward the door.

The second my fingers curled around the handle, my composure cracked. My steps stumbled over each other as I stepped into the hallway.

Too fast, too clumsy, like my body was trying to outrun itself. The door closed behind me with a soft click, and the sterile quiet of the infirmary dissolved into the muffled hum of the hallway.

I pressed my back to the wall and sucked in a shaky breath. It didn’t help.

The air felt too thin. My chest refused to expand. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

It was as if every ounce of strength had been wrung out of me and replaced with static — buzzing under my skin, crawling up my spine.

I pushed off the wall and started walking, not caring where I was going, only that it was away.

My vision blurred around the edges. The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

Father was right. Maybe I was always meant to be a killer — no matter how hard I tried to be anything else.

I had just tried to kill someone. A living, breathing human.

God, I was going to faint — I was sure of it. The weight of what almost happened, of what I almost did, pressed down on me until I could barely stand.

And for the first time since this nightmare began, I wasn’t sure if I hated him more... or myself.

††

Comment your thoughts on this Chapter please