The Pacifist

You Want Me?

Joseph

Joseph silently reprimanded himself for the slip. Saying, 'understood,' in such a way or even at all was nudging open the door he so desperately was trying to keep closed. An internal groan immediately replaced his self scolding with her sweet reply. He had told her to call him Joseph, but the way, 'yes, Mr. Maxwell,' sounded was intoxicating. His mind committed the way her lips looked as she had said it to memory in such vivid detail that it was already replaying in his head.

He quickly removed his hand from her chin as the sudden urge to crush it in his grasp took over him so quickly and violently. It took all of his will to compose himself. "I apologize."

Rachel shook her head vigorously. "No, it's okay!" He could feel her embarrassment over her eagerness. She wanted him. Joseph could feel it.

"Come," he said, after a few, subtle, calming breaths. "We should get started." He led the way into the studio and instructed her to face the mirror. He noted how she looked everywhere but at herself. "Does your reflection unsettle you?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me, Rachel."

"Yes."

"Why." He caught her gaze through the mirror but her eyes quickly darted away.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

Rachel sighed in discomfort. "I- I- I don't know. Really."

Joseph stared at her silently and waited.

"I think I look sad. Like an echo if what should be there."

"And?" he prompted.

"I'm... ashamed."

Joseph waited. He knew she had more to say and no longer needed his prompting. His silence would be enough.

"I tried to... end my life. Because— it was all so unbearable." The floodgates had opened now. "And I'm reminded enough of it everyday. I don't need to be reminded of it by myself. My father always looks at me with sadness and my mother with annoyance. I know I'm a waste of life. Of a human. I..." Her voice tailed off into a whisper. "I hate myself." With that, a single tear slipped down her cheek and only then, did her eyes search for his.

Joseph was ready and her pain punched him in the chest. He let it in. He felt it. Sat in it, to truly understand her. However, it didn't take much effort, because in her, he found a kindred spirit. One that he wanted to heal just so that he could destroy it, only to rebuild it once again. He looked away.

"Rachel, I hope you can forgive me, but I can't help you."

"I know." The resignation in her voice pained him.

"Not because you can't be helped. I just..."

"You want me," she said shyly. Her voice wavered with uncertainty due to her disbelief and Joseph wondered how she could ever doubt a man's desire for her.

"You can tell?" He was disappointed for not being able to mask his desire, but that may be more of a commentary on her gift rather than his ability to conceal.

"So, you do?" she asked with surprise.

He laughed, but the sound came out garbled. Joseph wanted to voice his thought, how she could question her desirability. Any man who didn't find her down right intoxicating had to have something wrong with him. Instead, he said, "It doesn't matter. It's inappropriate and I apologize for my inability to maintain professionalism."

"I think you've been perfectly professional."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

"Why does it affect whether or not you can help me?" Rachel was being bold now and it goaded the beast within Joseph that much more. He didn't care for Rebbecca's prowess, but a little boldness, and in the way that Rachel wielded with care did indescribable things to him. It was another thing for him to break.

"Because..." he stopped, unable, no, unwilling to explain the beast that wanted to devour her.

"What if I want you to want me." Her voice was down to a whisper again and her cheeks glowed with her deep blush.

"It would be inappropriate. I'm in a position of authority and you are..."

"No longer employing you as a life coach."

"Rachel. Don't. It's better if you leave."

But instead of leaving, she sat and looked up at him. "No. I can feel it, that if I do leave, I'll regret it immensely."

He stared at her, a war waging within him. Joseph's want for her was so intense it made his insides twist and roil, but at the same time, her innocence was something to be kept intact. Protected.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm not that inexperienced."

Her insecurity broke him and all he wanted was to show her just how much he wanted her. He crouched in front of her and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. He let the backs of his fingers follow the strand down to her neck. They twitched, ever aching to find out if her throat was as fragile as it looked.

"Leave, but come back tomorrow. I'll tell you everything then."

"But..."

"I need time to think."

"Okay," she whispered. He could practically hear her thoughts, how she didn't trust that him thinking about things would lead to anything and that instead, he would reject her. If only she knew that he was trying to protect her from his beast.