All that is dark | ✓

7| trial

HER BLOOD TURNED COLD when Nathan handed her the scalpel. It was familiar in her hands, but when she locked eyes with Zion, it fell, clattering on the cold floor. He always had been beautiful, in the same way his art was, like seeing him once was enough to etch his face in your memory forever. Even now, the bruises coloring his face resembled paint splatters, the emotions in his eyes seeming to be shadowed in with charcoal. She slapped herself in the face then, the sting on her cheek enough for her to remember that this all was real. Why was she trying to protect herself by acting like he was simply a painting instead of a living human being in front of her? When she raised her hand to slap herself again, Nathan held her back, his hand firm on her wrist.

"Don't do that," he said, voice serious behind his usual playful tone," you'll hurt yourself."

"I don't want to do this, Nathan," she begged, eyes pleading as she looked towards him," please don't make me do this."

"I'm not making you do anything, my love," he said warmly, placing the scalpel back in her hands," but don't let this fall a second time. It's unsterile now."

The last time she had cut into flesh had been years ago, during her internships, when the bodies had grown cold and their breath had become air. Autopsies were something she had grown familiar with, but she couldn't do it like this, not when his arteries would still be pulsating around her fingers, not when he was watching her every move. This would be torture. How could she call herself a doctor after that?

"I don't know what's happening," Zion sobbed," why are you doing this? All I've ever done is love you, Helene -"

Nathan slammed his head against the table, cleaning his hands afterwards with disinfectant as he looked at Zion in distaste.

"I don't remember giving you permission to speak," he said, the scent of rubbing alcohol sharp in the room," especially not to take her name in your mouth."

"Who are you?" Zion said, tears streaming down his face. In the fluorescent light, they glittered like jewels. "Please don't."

"It doesn't matter who I am," Nathan smiled," it only matters what I can do." He took another scalpel from the table, placing it on Zion's cheek. "What do you think is going to happen? Perhaps if you'll guess right, I'll let you go. Or -" A drop of blood welled up underneath the scalpel, clear like watercolor. With a smile he let Zion go, dropping the scalpel back on the table. "Perhaps not. It all depends on Helene here. She's the only one I listen to, you know."

"She won't do this," Zion said, shaking his head fervently," right, Helene? You wouldn't do something as sick as this."

"I -" she began, but the words seemed to fail her.

"Before a decision is made," Nathan said," I think it would only be fair if Helene heard everything, don't you think? So I'll give us both five minutes to speak to plead our cases. It'll be fun, I promise."

"To plead for what case?" Zion asked, already terrified before he heard the answer.

"Your life," Nathan smiled.

Of course he'd make a game out of this, even though the end result would be inevitable either way. Still, like always, he was acting like the power was in her hands, like she was the one who was going to decide everything in the end. Perhaps it could be, if she played this right. Perhaps it never would be.

"I'll start," Nathan said excitedly, clapping in his hands," he deserves to die, Helene." He caressed her cheek so gently that it almost seemed like he wasn't talking about murder. "Let's be honest, you've been thinking that yourself too, haven't you? Every moment he came to bother you, time and time again, putting you on a pedestal you don't want to be on as he acts like you're a beautiful object, instead of a human. You must've hated him."