I Am (Not) Your Hero

13

After a few weeks of being his hostage, Starlette had become accustomed to Smite. She was able to decipher him, more times than not. They had a routine now and Misael had settled with his punishments. They were less intense, less painful.

Smite left most days, the worlds great hero, but he came home every day. Every, single day.

The door opened with a creak. Starlette jumped up, leaning again the door with a wince. The first thing that she had to do was see how it went.

Smite's large footsteps edged closer.

"Star," he called.

She leaned against the door and looked at him. "Good day?"

He approached her, his fingers wrapping around her waist gently, lifting her up, his eyes scanning her face. He brought her to his face with a softness, kissing her gently.

"How's your leg?"

"A little better. I can stand a little longer."

He smiled, twirling his finger in her soft curls. She closed her eyes and tried not to flinch away. He despised that.

"Good. When you're better, we'll go public," he said softly.

She kept her face even. Her window for escape was closing. Once he went public with her there would be no escape. Even if she got away he would have the whole world looking for his 'missing' wife. Not to mention, she wasn't sure whether or not he would wait to marry her.

Of if he already had. Anything he said would be taken as fact.

Her hands ached.

"I'll make dinner—"

She took his hand. "I want to...make you something. I saw you had a long chase. I'll do it. I'll cook for you."

Smite cocked his head but nodded, picking her up and getting everything out. She took a knife, in her hand.

"Can you hand me an onion?" she asked softly. "Think I'll make tacos."

He watched her carefully. Starlette had seen him wince and cut himself on a knife once. The one in her hand. He set her on the counter, as she carefully chopped the onion finely.

"Can you heat the cast iron?" She whispered.

The domesticity of it all was unbearable. As if this was where she belonged. It was not. It was not and she was beginning to forget that. She had to escape from him.

The knife shook in her hand.

The bandaid was still on his finger. Maybe this would do it. She had to try.

She approached him softly, with a limp. He could hear her heart beating.

"My knee," she whispered, trying excuse how fast her heart was moving. It's pain not fear. It's pain not anticipation. "Oh god it hurts. Please...can you hold me for a moment—" she collapsed to the cry.

He turned around, lifting her up. Starlette put her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry, I said I would cook—"

"It's alright," he murmured. She stretched, with a wince.

"I thought it was better," She whispered, trying to center the knife. She had one shot. She calmed herself.

"Thank you, Smite." She murmured, plunging the knife deep into his back. But the knife didn't penetrate. He didn't even flinch. The blade shattered in her hand, leaving her with nothing but the handle and dread.

He was going to kill her.

He chuckled. "Come now...if it were that easy I would've been dead a million times over. What a foolish mistake to make, little Star."

"I'm sorry," she trembled immediately. "Misael please I'm really sorry. Please please," she kissed his neck frantically. "It was a joke! I knew you wouldn't be hurt, really it's okay. It's all okay I'll finish the tacos—"

He was eeerily silent.

He was going to kill her. She was going to die here. No one would know, no one would ever look for her.

He carried her to the bed, and laid her down, his face even. "That...almost hurt."

"What are you going to do to me?"

He scratched his head and shrugged. "That's a really good question, Star. What do you think I should do to you?"

She swallowed and shook her head. "I don't know," she said softly.

He was calm. Too calm.

"I could forgive you. You've been behaving and you are in a lot of pain, but you would need to convince me."

Star closed her eyes. She already knew where this was going. She crawled toward him. "You promise you won't hurt me?"

For a moment, something flashed across his face.

"Yes."

Star nodded, closing her arms around him. Any other woman would love to be his girlfriend right? The untouchable, handsome hero. She tried to make herself feel that way. He was a hero. She was not touching the lunatic, Misael, the man who took her, but rather a hero.

Though she didn't care for Smite, in the absence of anyone else to save her she had clung to the heroic personality he stood for.

She turned her mind off, trying not think of anything. She laid down and looked away. "I'm ready, if you...want."

Smite looked over her and remained very still for a moment, before leaning over and touching her face.

"If I want what?" He asked gently, touching her hair.

"To fuck me," she said candidly. "You can, if you want."

But he did not move closer or touch her more. Instead his finger played in her hair. "Would you like me to?"

Starlette swallowed roughly, closing her eyes tight. "...Yes."

He watched the quickness of her breathing. Heard the frantic beating of her heart.

"You know I hate it when you lie to me," he said. Standing. She opened her eyes and watched him pace.

"I'm sorry I wasn't lying. I mean...I didn't mean to." Sue wrung her hands. "Why don't you come to bed?"

He stared at her from across the room but said absolutely nothing, the silence was beginning to drive her crazy.

"You didn't or you didn't mean to?" He said finally.

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

But Smite showed no reaction to those words. Instead he leaned against the wall across from her.

"I'm sorry, Smite."

"You asked my name but you never use it." He remarked.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, beginning to get exhausted. The stress was taking a toll on her.

He said nothing. "I learned something from you. That not all feels are good. I've been studying them. Researching it. Trying to determine what they are. Identify them."

He looked away. "Hm...Anger is hot and quick. Makes me a little dizzy. Excitement is dizzying in a different way, but it's swirling and rousing. Lust is overwhelming warm instead of the white hot if anger, liquid. But there's one I've had since I've met you, more than anything else."

He swallowed. "It's so strong. Like drinking sour milk that's what I thought it was like. Sour and bitter. Roiling in your belly. I think it's guilt. I kept seeking it thinking to feel anything was better than nothing but I'm not sure that's true."

She was still. Her eyes hooded.

"I don't want to feel that way," He informed her. "There's another one I don't like. But it's not mine. We have a connection, Star, it's true. I feel you sometimes. There's one...quivering, skittish. Like darkness, your heart trying to escape. What is that?"

"Fear." She said softly. "That feeling is fear."