The Wailing Woman

19. His Hellish Touch

I swallowed hard before I nodded my head. Grimm adjusts my thigh, I winced feeling the sting and stickiness of my soaked jeans. He presses his hand down around the wound and with his other free hand, he grasps to the hilt of the letter-opener. His gaze met mine but I looked away as he took it out.

Fast, smooth, and painful.

I gasp loudly as the pulsating blood surges and throbbing expands. I turn to Grimm and see him ripping my jeans while simultaneously tugging his black tie from his collar. My right leg was now exposed, his cool crimson hands soothed the hotness, and his thumb brushed over my inner thigh wiping a droplet of blood running down.

Grimm gently lifted my thigh as he wrapped the tie around my thigh. My heart quivered under the touches of satin, softness, coldness, and attentiveness. It should've felt wrong.

He was the God of Death, The Grim Reaper, The Capturer of Souls, and so many more names and titles but the moonlight presented him differently. The glow from the moon brought out the specs of blood scattered across his face but it could've been stardust and his inked hair could've been silk. Even the moon swayed in front of him. It was nice to know the moon and I were the same.

I squeezed my eyes shut, he severed someone's head, but when I opened my eyes again and saw him again, he severed someone's head for me, wicked hope infiltrated my heart. I wanted to see that, I really did.

I broke the silence. "Why-" I said in a scratchy whisper, "Why are you here? How are you here?"

He had finished wrapping the tie around my thigh but he kept his hands on my skin. I didn't say anything nor pulled away. Grimm's starless eyes met my sunken eyes, I'm waiting and waiting and waiting.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" My heart wavers and I let it happen until he speaks again, "Did you forget that you're supposed to stay alive to help me get my wings? " He gets up and moves from the moonlight, I blink trying to ignore how heavily tilted my heart feels.

It seems the dark-suited him better.

Grimm's voice becomes cold, "You can't recklessly stab yourself."

I bite the inside of my cheek letting the disappointment spiral into bitterness. I don't think I need the voices to be delusional, it seems I am perfectly capable of doing that all by myself. He only came here because he wants his wings back and I'm the only person who can give him his wings, and for that, he needs me alive. He wants his wings, he needs me.

In the wise words of the unknown headless corpse, Nobody is ever kind to you. Nobody listens to you. Nobody cares about you. Nobody wants you. Oh, how much I wished I had done more than make his ears bleed.

I returned the same hostility, "I didn't recklessly stab myself. I thoroughly thought it through," I pointed to the rolled-over head to my side, "and it worked until you made a mess."

His nostrils flared. "A mess? I did you a favor by ending that man's life."

"What favor? I didn't ask for any favors." I seethed.

Grimm roughly runs his hand through his inked hair, ruining his pushed-back hair as a few strands fall over his forehead. If he was any closer, I would ruin it some more. I slid my back against the wall when I noticed the door behind him was still closed. How did he get inside?

My eyes wandered around the apartment, everything was a mess. Clutters of broken glass shards flooded the floor, mixed with pools of blood, some of it being mine and the other from the corpse and then, there was a breeze. I looked over to my left, seeing more broken glass that came from the patio door.