My lips curled back as anger flared, drying my eyes. "They might if you had a heart. But I guess that's something you lack just like your mother."
Letting go of me, he produced a key and slipped it into the door to unlock it. "I don't lack a heart. It's just been hardened against such pitiful sights," he said as he pushed it open. With his back turned toward me, he missed the flash of hurt that crossed my face.
I smoothed it away when he turned to return his hand to my arm to guide me inside. It hurt to hear my desperation be referred to as a pitiful sight, but was he wrong? No. I knew it must have appeared that way with my tears and pleas. I was pathetic. I always had been. A pathetic excuse for a daughter, friend, and human.
But I didn't care if I was, not if it was for Ash.
Still, that didn't stop humiliation from warming my cheeks as he shut the door behind us and led me to a pair of armchairs that sat in front of the fireplace that was located on the side of the office that wasn't occupied by a large and heavy desk. Where a laptop would have sat was a large flat tablet made of the same seamless material as the phones and televisions I had encountered.
I took the seat he gestured towards as he moved towards the cabinet by his desk. Opening it, he left my field of vision to reach inside to grab something. Pulling out a wooden box, he closed it and made his way back to me where he set it on top of the small round table that sat between the chairs. Instead of taking the other seat, he crouched before the box and opened it.
The lid lifted to reveal white gauze, sterile swabs, bandages, and small bottles and vials. I silently watched as he retrieved a bottle, a few swabs, torn pieces of gauze, and a bandage, using the time to gather the fracturing pieces of my psyche as best I could. I had set a new record by snapping so quickly after only just breaking apart. Usually, it took a few months, sometimes even a year for everything to build up until I reached the point of snapping.
By the time Rowan had everything he needed and was turning towards me, indicating for me to move closer, I had gathered myself enough to not drop my eyes to the crystal that hung against his chest and start begging again.
"I said I was fine." I was. The pain in my chin had dulled to a barely noticeable throb.
"And everyone can see that you aren't. Don't be stubborn and let me clean the mess your chin has become," he chastised as he reached for me. "I would heal it, but-"
"You can't because others have seen it," I finished for him as I moved back, pressing into the back of the armchair that seemed to mold to fit my body. "I know, but that doesn't mean I have to let you treat it. I'd rather do it myself," I argued, lifting the chin in question pointedly.
I expected Rowan to hold his ground like he had against my pleas, what I didn't expect was for him to give a sigh and move back. He rose to his feet, unscrewing the bottle's lid and slipping the end of the swab inside. Pulling it out, he passed it to me coated in a gel-like substance.
"It's to clean and promote healing," he explained when he saw me eying it suspiciously.
I could recall the last time I was told that. The warmth in my chest had proven I was wrong for trusting those words then, but what was the risk now? He hadn't given me that much reason to be so suspicious of his help. Especially since it wasn't the first time he was offering it. If I were honest, I would admit that it would fall in line with how he has been treating me; good.
Until he lost his temper. That was when the pain and threats and endless laps came. When he pushed me to the point of snapping.
Not to mention, he did nothing but stand there as his mother killed two fae and traumatized me
