"But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated." ― Ernest Hemingway

Epilogue

The sound of heels pounding on the floor spread through the dark hallway. The weather was getting colder and the heating did not make the place any less creepy. There was no one around which contributed to the anxiety spreading through my body. The lighting was dim, and the air was dominated by the smell of fear.

After a few minutes of walking, I finally arrived at my wanted destination. The room was spacious, bigger than any cafeteria or restaurant I had ever visited. The metal tables were at a decent distance from each other, and for each, there were two chairs of the same material. Most of them were occupied, which partly explained why I did not meet any people on the way there.

After a few seconds of looking around in search of the person I had come for, I finally spotted him. He sat in the corner of the room with his eyes lost, as if his thoughts were somewhere far away. He looked so different yet so familiar. Something in my chest hurt at the sight.

Sighing deeply, I headed towards him, my heels loudly letting everyone know who I was. However, he did not notice me. He was so engrossed in his fantasy that he never looked at me, until the moment when I sat down on a chair opposite him.

I didn't say anything, I didn't even have to, my presence alone was enough to make his shoulders tense and his face wake up abruptly and make the expression I knew so well. He lit up, his eyes finally getting color, but there was something sad in them that could break everyone's heart. Everyone but mine.

"How's the physical therapy going?" I asked him after a long silence. I didn't want to make him laugh, my plan was more to provoke him. Sitting across from me in a wheelchair he looked like a poor, harmless creature. Unfortunately, that could not be further from the truth. "You are not in the mood for talking? Pity."

He ran his eyes over every inch of my face and body, stopping at my, now short, hair, which barely reached my shoulders. I thought it looked good on me, but the sad gleam in his eyes made me clench my fists. I knew what he was thinking, the weight on my heart was good enough proof.

"They say it'll take time, but there is a chance of you walking again," I continued, looking him straight in the eye, even though his gaze was still fixed on my hair. "I, on the other hand, hope you won't," I told him in a neutral voice, but the poison in it was absolutely recognizable to someone who knew me as much as he did.

"You failed, Mateo," I told him in a strong, determined voice, the kind he had never heard before.

That was enough to finally break him out of the trance he was in. He looked directly into my eyes and allowed me to see the torrent of emotions that were boiling in his. Sadness, longing, love, suffering, but also anger and remorse. He didn't regret doing all those things to me, no, he regretted losing me for it.

"You tried to destroy me, break me, kill me, but you didn't succeed in any," I smiled a true smile, never taking my eyes off his dark orbs. He didn't speak, he didn't have to. The painful grimace on his face was enough for me to understand his feelings and I enjoyed every single one.

"The only thing left after the accident are barely visible scars, reminders of what you did to me, reminders that I came out of it all as a winner." Every word I spoke hurt him even more than the last. I knew him well enough to make out the small changes on his face.

Still, his silence was bringing the worst out of me. He did so much to me, I went through so many things because of him, I felt too much pain for him to just look at me silently and say nothing. Rare were the moments when he showed compassion, but I expected at least that much from him. I did not hope for an apology, much less repentance, but I thought that maybe just once in his life, he would act like a man. I was wrong.

"You have nothing to say?" I asked him in disbelief with a fake smile on my face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but said nothing. I laughed sarcastically. "Do you know how long it took me to recover?"

He opened his eyes abruptly and stared at mine. Tears threatened to fall down my face but I didn't let them. I worked on myself for too long to give in at the worst moment, at a crucial moment that decided if I was going to move on.

"Do you know, Mateo? How many tears, sufferings, panic attacks, nightmares, sleepless nights did it take me to get my life in order at least to some extent?" My voice was slowly starting to get louder, and this time I didn't even wait for his answer. "The first month, I couldn't sleep alone in bed. I was forced to eat for two, and only after three did I manage to get out of the house without having to. I still go to therapy once a week, and months have passed, Mateo, months. But you need to know one thing, the reason why I even came here."

He looked at me with interest, as if my next words would decide his entire future. Maybe he was right. Maybe I couldn't extend the eight-year prison sentence he received for domestic violence. Maybe I couldn't bring him back to the trial he got out of for his involvement in crimes such as spiking innocent people's drinks. Maybe I couldn't do to him what he had done to me. But there was one thing I could do – I could destroy him. The person sitting across me had only one weakness, me. His obsession with me, his needs to own me, control me, to be the only person in my life were so strong that just knowing about them was enough to completely bring him down, and I had every intention of doing so.

"I was weak, too weak, before you, with you, and after you. However, I no longer am," I looked him straight in the eye. "Now you see a strong woman, Mateo, not a little girl. It took me a long time, but it paid off. Like I told you, you failed. I became what you never wanted, love, I became strong. Although I still sometimes feel the things you did to me, you will never get to me again, I'll never let you do it again because I'm a better person than you, I always have been. You never have, nor will you ever deserve me. I hope that you rot in here, even though you managed to get out of a longer sentence because of the strong connections you have and only be punished for domestic violence, of which, unfortunately for you, you couldn't get out. So, I hope I'll never see you again. I hope that those eight years will be worse than hell," I proudly told him with a huge, real smile on my face.

However, just when I intended to get up and leave, he made me stop in my tracks with his words.

"Are you sure about that, baby girl?"

His voice, so familiar yet so foreign, made my heart beat like crazy. Even though I learned to love myself and came to terms with what had happened, I could not stop my body's reaction to the familiar, threatening sound. His eyes were on me. He looked like a mythical creature that didn't have to blink. There was darkness in them, darkness that was painfully familiar.

"You'll be mine forever, whether you like it or not," he told me venomously, looking down at my big, round stomach.

I swallowed my saliva and protectively put my hand over my swollen belly. I shot him a look that held a grain of fear, but then I remembered the most important thing. I got out of everything stronger than ever, and if he thought his threats would scare me as was the case before, maybe he should reconsider his surroundings full of bars.

"You know, when I found out I was pregnant, I thought I was going to die," I began. "All those fears I had that I would not be a perfect mother, that I would ruin the life of my own child, that I would never be able to give him security and love. I wanted to scream, to pull my hair, to cry. No matter how much I used to say that I would never have a baby, feeling that little human being in my womb, knowing that it also survived the torture that I did, it was hard to do what I always thought I wanted."

He looked at me carefully. His fists were clenched as was his jaw. I was sure he was cursing himself in his head at that exact moment for the stupid mistake he had made. If he had just waited, we would probably have been together today. We would have a baby, I would have to marry him, it would have been exactly the way he longed for. If he had just waited a little longer with his violence, everything would have been different.

Unfortunately, that was probably true. If he had not done what he did, without knowing that life in me was already growing, that what he asked of me - he had already received, I would have been trapped in his clutches for the rest of my life. However, that did not happen, and, even though I suffered horrendous traumas because of that, it may be better that everything happened the way it did. Both my baby and I are well and far away from him, that's the only thing that matters.

"And then I realized something. Maybe that knowledge was influenced by your beatings, a car accident, the support of my friends, or maybe even the fact that both the baby and I survived what rarely anyone could, nevertheless, it doesn't really matter. I realized that it's not necessary to be a perfect mom, it's important to be a good enough mother. I'm not my mother, it took me years to understand, but I did. I am not her, no matter how much I look like her, no matter how many traits and actions we share, how many similar situations we were in, we are not the same. I'll probably make mistakes, but the safety of my child is in my hands and I will do my best to ensure he gets all that love I didn't, multiplied by five hundred."

As much as my friends didn't understand why I needed to visit him and tell him everything that was on my mind, as much as they tried to dissuade me from it, they didn't understand, they couldn't understand. I felt that I could not go on with my life if I did not face him, if I did not get my closure, if the circle did not close. I needed to tell him everything, to open myself to him, my whole self, my feelings, my thoughts, my anger, my suffering. I wanted him to know, I needed him to know. I came to visit him after so many months just for one thing, to say goodbye... to say goodbye and move on.

"And yet, I am the father of that child," he said in a proud voice, but the malice in it did not go unnoticed.

"Yes, but that doesn't matter either. Just as I'm not my mother, neither is the baby going to be you. A child is not to blame for the sins of its parents. It doesn't matter who the father is, I am the mother and that's enough. That will always be enough."

"I see you've experienced spiritual awakening being away from me," he rolled his eyes.

"Oh yeah, I did. I asked for help and I got it. "

"Inspirational."

"Indeed," I replied and looked at him carefully. He looked like he was going to burst at any moment but restrained himself. Maybe our story could have ended much better If he could control himself like that before. I wanted to laugh at the amount of nonsense that thought had.

"I hope you get the help you need, I really do, but I'm not the person to give it to you," I told him honestly.

As much as he had hurt me, there had been moments when he had made me feel like I had been on top of the world. As crazy as it sounded, in some sick, obsessive way, he loved me. It wasn't that healthy, beautiful love, no, it was an ill love that destroys, and I refused to be destroyed. Maybe, if he really gets help, maybe he could recover and make another girl happy, as well as himself. But what I had told him I had truly meant, I was not, nor will I ever be that person.

"It's funny, love, really," he began with a smirk. "It's funny that you came here and you think you can just tell me to fuck off and leave. As much as you believed you were free, you're not, nor will you ever be. You're mine, both physically and mentally, and that baby is just proof of that," he winked, but he frowned immediately after when he saw my smile-lit face.

"You may have a smile on your face now, maybe you'll have it tomorrow too, and the day after tomorrow, but the day will come when you'll only feel loneliness. When that day comes, I won't be there for you. You'll be alone inside four walls of the prison cell, and the only thing you'll have would be memories, memories of how much I loved you."

"Loved? You still love me!" His voice trembled. His greatest fear was on the verge of coming true.

"I still do," I confirmed, nodding.

"Then why all this?!" he shouted in despair, throwing his hands up. "Why do you want to leave me and take away our baby? Wait for me, love, I'll come out quickly for you, you know I will. I'll do everything, I'll pull all the connections just to be by your side as soon as possible. Wait for me and we can forget everything that happened and start over. We'll be happy, I'm sure, our baby, you and me, a real, happy family. I love you more than anything in the world, I never have and I never will stop. If you love me too, why are you leaving me?"

"Because sometimes... love is not enough."

This time, I didn't stop. I completely ignored his desperate orders to turn around and go back, his screams, yells, and left that room the way I came into it – with my head held high.

At some point, we need to realize that some people can stay in our hearts but not in our lives. It took me too long to understand that as much as I loved someone, if that person is causing me suffering and pain, then he is not worth it. People come and go, no matter how much we think that's not the case, that we can't live without some person, the only one who we can't live without is ourselves. It's sad that I had to lose him to find myself, that he had to hurt me so I could love myself, it really is, but some lessons in life are learned the hard way. Simply, everything is easier when you accept the apology you never got. Because the wounds hurt, they hurt like hell, and then, one day, they don't. I won. I beat him and I beat myself. There is no more room in my heart for sadness and resentment, a visit to this man took care of that, there is no place for anger, despair. There's the only place for love, love for my friends, for my child, and myself.

I came out of the building that now kept my past, my torturer and my teacher. That dark story of my life has come to an end. All I had to do was move forward, with the greatest gift he had given me, with the only thing I was grateful for and for which I would never be able to completely hate him.

I put my hands on my belly and felt the little boy punch it from the inside. It was a matter of time before I gave birth and it was obvious that he could not wait.

I looked up at the blue sky with a bright smile on my face and inhaled.

Life is finally beautiful.

The end

A/N

Uh, it's over, huh? I truly hope you like it.

I don't even know what to say, I've been planning this epilogue for so long and I'm so emotional right now I don't know what to do with myself. So, let me clarify some things and express my gratitude.

Will there be a sequel? No. I kinda do have the whole plot for a sequel in my head, but it's definitely not going to happen, ever. There are two reasons for that: The first is that I hate sequels with passion, I think they ruin the experience (like when the tv show has too many seasons and is no longer interesting) unless it's books that are already predisposed to have more parts and have a logical trace (like HP, Lord of the Rings, ASOIAF). The second is that the moral of the story would be completely lost if there was another book. None of what I wrote would make sense and I would feel as if I had not left the impression I wanted and which I think is necessary. Tara's story has come to an end and a new beginning.

Was the end always supposed to be like this? Yes. Literally on the first day when I decided on the plot, I knew that the end would be like this, before all these events and everything, I knew that this was a must (there're many hints throughout the book too). I believe that many of you thought that one of them would die, or they'll stay together. However, although I agree that the tragic end would certainly leave a greater impression and the book would remain in people's memories longer, the message would be lost. Turn around, there are certainly women (and men) in your environment who are going through domestic violence or abuse of any kind for that matter. Many women are afraid to report it because they think it will only make things worse, but that is not true. Here I wanted to show that there is hope, there is always hope.

Why did I decide on a plot like this? Honestly, I wanted to read about something like this and I didn't find it and then I was like "I'll write it myself." I found myself countless times like guys who are borderline abusive. Yes, I like possessive, jealous, dominant men, but there is a line that shouldn't be crossed, no matter what. And abuse of any form, be it physical, sexual, emotional, economic, and harassment is certainly one, but it should be even sooner. All male leads in my future books are going to be dominant men, as I mentioned above because I find them hella atractive, but no, they will never be violent. They'll probably be toxic sometimes, kinda sucker for that too, but not as much as Mateo. I can promise you, if nothing else, they will never be violent towards the female leads.

A little about the characters. If at some point you liked Mateo, if you felt sorry for him or something along those lines, don't feel bad or anything, he was written to provoke conflicting feelings. It is easy to hate or condemn a person who is obviously disgusting and violent, but it is difficult to really get to know these subtle, manipulative, charming people. But don't be fooled by their looks, they are just as rotten, maybe more so. I know many wanted him to change for her, but the thing is, people like him don't change, at least not without professional help. As for Tara, it was so hard to write her character, I can't even explain it to you. At one point, I wanted to scream at her and I was her creator. We are very different, but that is the point. She has many problems because of which she allowed herself to be blinded by Mateo, these are things I will not reveal because then where is the charm of your own interpretation? But there are many small details, especially hidden in the colors and atmosphere, some small descriptions, predictions that describe it all. I am a big fan of Ana Karenina, what's more to say.

AND NOW, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL OF YOU WHO WERE THERE, READING, VOTING, COMMENTING, MAKING MY DAYS BETTER AND ALWAYS MAKING ME FEEL GOOD EVEN WHEN MY OWN LIFE DIDN'T. WHENEVER I FELT SAD AND ANXIOUS, YOU WOULD ALWAYS BRING A SMILE ON MY FACE SO I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH AND I HOPE WE'LL CONTINUE OUR JURNEY.

So, I know all your usernames, and if you think I don't, I most surely do (if this sentence is not creepy idk what Is istg), like: bitxhalert (you've been with me for so long, like almost since day one😭, ishachhikara and ARocco666 (hope you don't hate me guys after this epilogue 😂), Marie264651, _kimtaejoon, romanreignspunisher (you guys make me smile all the damn time I swear), Goldenyeee (your comments are literally everything), iatemycouchie (I die out laughing every time I read your username istg), LowKeyBadd, EmaZ_Directioner (what's up neighbor?), Wonderer14, JenyNux, rosa_xoxoxo, Isabellaandaverde, Pashminaa, Dolldeathbody and many others. I'm sure I forgot to mention a lot of people, but I love you all nonetheless and I feel like I have known you for a long time. Thank you so much and I hope I didn't disappoint you.

Since I finished this book, I will continue with "Decadence" probably the day after tomorrow.

Once again, for the thousandth time, thank you for being with me and for reading this book, I literally love every single one of you. Okay, I feel like crying now for some reason.

Instagram -> v_jelenaa

J. xx