the sweetly scented killer

an unfortunate turn of events

seth

Flora.

She's all I can think about, and it's starting to piss me off. I'm trying to get work done, and all I can think about is her.

Not even how she professed her love for me multiple times, but the way she flinched when I tried to touch her. The look in her eyes—one I always knew would become present sooner or later. I mean, how could it not? She's an angel, I'm a demon. Of course her eyes were going to look like that; full of the one emotion I had managed to keep out of her head for at least this long. Fear. Because I couldn't control myself. I scared her, and even if she forgives me, somewhere in the back of her mind, every time she looks at me, she'll see the demon that I have the potential to be.

And every time she looks at me, I'll see that look behind her eyes, the one that is afraid to set me off. Afraid of saying anything I might not like. Afraid of saying those three words again. Afraid of...well, me.

"Fuck."

I throw my pen down and rise from my chair.

It's late, and it is completely out of character for Flora to go to bed anytime after at most ten thirty.

As I open the door, I'm startled by Flora stumbling forward as she was attempting to open it at the same time.

I hold her hand to steady her, and she laughs at herself a bit. "Thank you." She just barely glances at me—it's over as soon at it started.

Flora steps out of her shoes and messes with the clasp of her necklace. I watch her face of concentration, then as she turns the clasp to the front, but still fails at undoing it.

"Do you mind helping me?" she raises an eyebrow. My eyes won't pry themselves from her small figure and delicate hands. I move her shoulder length hair to see it. It smells as sweet as always. I remove the necklace and place it into her hand in front of her.

I don't move, and she doesn't either. The only sound that fills the room is the wind making the curtains dance against the wall.

I watch the goosebumps on Flora's shoulder rise, as her hair flutters against my chest.

We speak simultaneously. A soft "Flora." Falls out of my mouth, while my name rolls off her tongue.

When she doesn't say anything, I speak."I'm sorry I snapped at you." My heart keeps track of the several beats in which we remain silent.

I stand in front of her, just as close. "You didn't deserve that, and I never meant to scare you." Those big, pitch black eyes roam my face expressionless. "I don't want you to see me that way. I don't want you to be..." I find myself unable to finish my sentence. I sigh in frustration and look off to the side.

"I'm not scared of you," she says softly, frowning and shaking her head. Flora touches my hand with her fingers, then holds it with both hands against herself. "I shouldn't have kept saying it when you told me to stop."

I sit down on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. My fingers drive themselves through my hair. My head is down, and my eyes stay on the floor while I speak almost under my breath. "It doesn't matter what you did or didn't do, Flora, I never should have yelled at you." Scared you.

I hear her shifting and feel her closeness. "I want you to know that I meant it. And I'd say it again."

"Please don't," I exhale. "I hate those words and I hate show seriously people take them."

"They're not just words, Seth—"

"Yes they are. Telling someone you love them is nothing compared to actually showing them that you do."