And, now, look at her. Practically begging Ax not to go.
Lucy held his head. “Oh, Ax,” she said. For Ax , it felt like that night. He would never forget how they had talked. How they had become closer after the telling, sharing. She had accepted him totally, as he had accepted her, all those years ago. Just as she was doing now.
For Ax this was impossible. How could someone love him? He was not a good person, he was a killer! And she had shared her story. Her rape. If he could find these guys? But Lucy seemed calm. Even when she had talked about killing her daughter? What kind of person was she? What kind of person was he? He had watched her face. It had been hard, then soft, understanding then dead. Her self-control was total. Fuck sake. And the death of her child was not even her fault. An accident, a horrible accident is all.
They both needed to get out. To breath. So they had gone out to a bar, just for a few drinks. Both had been in a strange mood. Perhaps they could both feel what was coming. Perhaps they both needed the release. Ax had ordered drinks and they had taken a quiet table in the corner of the bar.
His mind was on overdrive. How did he find the strength to tell her tell her? He was a different person now. That life was behind him. How could he have told her he had killed a child? How did he tell her he had been a paid killer? Could he tell her about all the faces he had in his memory, now? And what could she say? They were both killers of children. Lost and found. Fearless of time. Survivors. It was this that gave her strength. She knew she was a nightmare for Ax. She knew. As he was a nightmare for her. She sensed it. Knew he was true. Just like she knew he was for her, even if he did not, yet.