Breaking the rules

Chapter 18

I was reviewing some documents about Billy’s death and how the cause of death was bleeding out. It was the stabbing that killed him. Only he and I knew that. The autopsy report said the bleeding was caused on the thigh and was caused by a kitchen knife. Morana does not use knives, at least kitchen knives.

That night was horrifying. I’d never wish for any of us to relive it. My sister seems to be forgetting it due to school. Morana is constantly touching the scar from him, and I’m trying to rid of my sins, but I am married to Morana. She’s the most sinful of them all.

I’ve heard stories of her going to church, and that surprises me. I can’t even imagine Morana in a church, reading a bible. She’s tried to burn a bible, but it didn’t light. She and I thought a demon-possessed it.

Morana and Quinn were in the kitchen cooking an abomination; Will was outside playing with Leia; I was in my office with the new kitten. I needed to find a good vet, but I was looking at someone who was dead to me; literally and physically.

Loud thunks and thuds were from all over. Well, it’s more from Morana and Quinn than from William. Morana said the kitten had to stay in the basement until it had its shots. It was a small white kitten. It had green eyes and little gray socks. Not literally, but the fur was a different color.

“God damn it, Quinn!” Morana shouted. It sounded painful. I got up from my chair and dashed down the stairs. I looked in the living room where there was a show paused. I went into the kitchen and Morana had her hand in the sink. “Quinn, when I say stop, stop.”

“Hey- you turned on the blade-”

“Oh god, what happened?” I asked them. I got closer to them and saw red in the sink. “That better be fucking ketchup.”

“It’s not,” Morana smiled. She turned the tap to cold. “Liza, get the first aid kit from that cabinet.” She pointed to the Island in the kitchen. The black marbled countertops held the little first aid kit that was in use every fucking month.

“What the hell were you two doing?” I asked. “Morana, apply pressure!”

“That’s what I’m doing!” she shouted. “Quinn got a little too fucking froggy. I tried to take the knife away, like a good friend, and she fucking cuts me.”

“In my defense, I thought you would stab me!” Quinn threw the first aid kit at me. “I don’t know how to fix her! Bucky, you do it!”

“Everyone stop yelling!” I said. I moved to Morana, and she was cut at the skin connecting her fingers. “Mor, you might need stitches.”

“The hospital again?” Quinn and Morana bitched. “Duct tape will fix it.”

I stared at Morana’s hand again and the blood wouldn’t stop. I’m not losing her again. She will not bleed out on me or on me. She just sat there letting herself bleed, and not even the natural way. She was mumbling words. I couldn’t tell if they were slurred. I couldn’t stop staring at Morana’s blood draining out of her.

She was cold. Her skin was a ghost. She had this massive bruise and stitches on her arm.

She cried when I got home. She cried all night.

“I don’t want to die, Bucky.” she sobbed in my arms.

“And you won’t, not ever while I’m around,” ever since I came back, I haven’t touched her. I loved her body. I love how she could easily switch to being sensual. I wanted my hands on her, but no. I kept my hands away from her. I wouldn’t even help her bathe. I didn’t even cuddle her at night.

She opened the stitches many times; I’m sure it was on purpose. I didn’t give her the attention she needed. I missed her wants and needs, and she met all of mine.

I missed everything about her, and she still wanted to fuck me. She wanted everything I had, while I treated her like she would break. She wasn’t a china plate; she was a fucking hammer.

“I need gauze,” I groaned. “Morana? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry, James.”

I wanted to fall to my knees when I heard her want to cry. She felt it was her fault. Mistakes happen. “No, Morana. It’s alright, shit happens,”

She started smiling. She was giggling. She had that little kid giggle.

“And when shit happens, we’re together and we play,” I laughed. I wrapped her hand in gauze and then I used red athletes tape to hold it in. “Now, do you want black, for Natasha, gray for Bucky, or yellow for Iron-man?”

“I want that one,” she pointed to the gray tape.

“Good choice.” I had my grin slapped on my face.

If she isn’t feeling well, she’s dying, or she’s not feeling good, treat her like a kid. She doesn’t think like a normal adult. It’s complex or unrealistic, yet if she’s tired she can be simple? The puzzle pieces don’t add up.

I finished wrapping her hand up. She was a happy woman; a happy wife. That’s all I wanted. “Morana, don’t do anything like that again.” I pulled her into my arms. I felt tears stinging my waterline. My breathing was the same, but I was inaudible. I was silently crying. Only one tear ran down my face. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you won’t,” she breathed.

I kept her there. She needed to stay where I can keep her safe, where I can see her at all times.

“Awww,” Quinn nagged. “Can I have Morana back?”

“No,” I growled. “She’s mine.”

“I was there first,” she argued.

“I’ve been inside of her. Your point is?” I stated.

“Morana, fix your fiance,” Quinn left, out the back door, where her fiance was.

I looked down at Morana, and she had her hand on my chest. “When did they move in?”

“I don’t remember,” she giggled. “Can we get Chinese tonight?”

I stared down at her. Her height was cute. “You made orange chicken the other night,” I complained. “What about some good spaghetti?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “What about French? Like les crepes?”

I was confused. She said something in French? How does she remember from highschool? “Can you translate that, love?”

“Crepes,” she said, normally. “You know the super thin pancake?” I nodded. “Those, mon Chéri,” she smiled.

“Can you speak English? I don’t understand, oui, oui,” I laughed, loudly.

“Really? Oui, oui,” she rolled her eyes at me. “Je parle mellieure a la française,” she sounds hot with an accent.

“Can you talk dirty, draga mea?” I asked. It’d be hot to hear her speaking in another language, and I have no idea what she’s saying, yet it’s everything she’d do to me.

“Oui, monsieur Barnes.” she smirked. “Je veux avez-vous propage en dohors au une lit.”

“What’d you say?”

“I want to have you spread out on the bed,” she smirked. “Now, you say something in German. I am a little rusty.”

What do I want to say to her? There’s so many fantasies to pursue with her. “Dragoste, vreau să te atingi pentru mine.”

“Love…” she looked away from me. “I want you to touch me?”

“You got most of it right.” I chewed my bottom lip. “I said, ‘love, I want you to touch yourself for me’.”

Her entire face lit up. Now she was chewing her bottom lip. “Maybe I’ll let you touch me later.”

“That better be a fucking promise, Morana Lily Barnes.” I grimaced. “Or else, I’ll be disappointed. In the bedroom in one hour. The clock is ticking.”