Brutal some might say, cruel to others. Aphrodite was none of those of course, just the best at what she did with no shame. Named after a Greek goddess obviously she was going to be a narcissistic bitch willing to do anything to get her way no matte...
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APHRODITE.
My head throbbed as I stared out of the living rooms window. I had a sweatshirt draped over my shoulders, not being bothered enough to put it on. My hands were shaking despite the warm space of the living room and I could feel my head going into overdrive. I barely got any sleep last night, the weight of Harry's and I conversation laying heavily on my shoulders. He knew more than I wanted to tell him, just because I was stupid enough to let almost everything about my new life spill out to him.
I told him what Poison cherry does, and who I was in regards to that. I'm glad I was sensible to at least not tell him why I did what I did, but Jesus. I was already humiliated that he even saw me like that. Barely conscious, bleeding out, and overly emotional. Harry must've thought I was the biggest joke, and despite his kind words I just knew he would use it against me one day.
In a job that was supposed to help my control issues, I lost my dignity over it. Surviving an ambush attack while it's five against one is luck in itself, but to be that fucked up over it?
It's pitiful.
I barely remember Gray picking me up after I got the files, only when he came in the room and checked up on me again. I had a slight concussion and the stab wound on my thigh was nothing good, but I was fine. A gash on my lip was probably the only thing that was going to be left over on my face. I was only slightly worried about how it was going to scar, but that was the least of my problems.
Harry was sitting next to me, his face stuffed into his script booklet. He had been looking at it for over two hours, only looking away to sneak glances at me. The only form of communication we had since this morning was taking off his sweatshirt and putting it over me. I wasn't shaking cause I was cold, but it was a nice gesture I guess. We hadn't spoken to each other this entire time, not even on the plane, too afraid of what the other will say. He'd only asked everyone else if we could have the bedroom in the back and shut us in there, nearly begging me to fall asleep or at least get some rest.
I turned around to look at him, noting every little feature of his. He shuts his book just as I do, throwing it on the table in front of us. "Hungry?" He hums nodding his head to the breakfast basket Florence had left us. I nod, just remembering how I haven't ate in over a day. Harry gets up and hands me a blueberry muffin and I give him a slight smile over the flavor. He seems to notice it too, giving me a slight hum.
"Do you feel any better?" He asks tearing off a piece from his muffin. I sit up and take a bite of my own, shrugging. The sugar from the fruit coats my tongue as I think. "Yes." I think. "You don't need to worry about me." It easily slips through my lips, though he doesn't seem to believe me. "I've seen you bleed out twice during this trip. I pulled a bullet out of your shoulder and cleaned your stab wound despite how I felt about blood. Me being worried is out the window, I expect to carry a first aid kit whenever we go out now." He jokes, pinching my chin. I smile slightly.
