Unintentional Subject - Book 1 In The Jessie Series

Chapter 11: Deep Stuff

"I'm a monster!"

I whispered over and over. I had handfuls of my hair. The pain in my chest wouldn't go away. My scars burned. Shame and guilt hit me again like a title wave, trying to drown me. I rocked back and forth forcing myself to take deep breaths. Four seconds in hold for four and then exhale for four seconds.
I swallowed hard and I wiped the tears off my face with shaking hands.

I finally opened my eyes and jumped. Minho was still crouched beside my bed. I couldn't figure out what he was thinking. His eyes were in shadow but the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly in a frown, yet he seemed to be soft; none of his muscles were tensed.

"Sorry." I said quietly, "for holding a knife to your throat."

He didn't move, his eyes, I could just see the reflection from the moon, were flicking over my face.

"Do you have regular nightmares?" He finally asked.

I frowned. I wasn't expecting that. Normally people freak out when a knife is held to their throat, he didn't back away instead he stayed. And he didn't acknowledge the apology, instead asking about the nightmare. Almost like he was concerned about me rather than himself. I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat.

"Yes." I whispered.

"Always this bad?"

Why was he asking, why did he care?

I looked away. "Yes." I heard myself answer.
There was a pause. I could hear him breathing and the thumping of my heart still working overtime from the horrible memories.

"And you work through it alone, don't you."

I looked back, his head was tilted slightly to the side, I could see his eyebrows pulled together like he was thinking. He didn't ask it, it was more of a statement. I nodded slowly.

"She's the only one who hasn't let me down, turned on me, lied, manipulated or abandoned me. So yes. I've learned that the only one I can rely on is myself. I lernt how to be strong alone."

"Why?"

"Because Minho," I spat, suddenly angry, my body tense and shaking now. "Killers don't cry. Monsters don't panic. Assassins don't have anxiety."

I realized right away I said to much. I clamped my jaw tight pressing my lips tight. No more. I wouldn't say anything else. I turned my head away and brought my knees up to my chest hugging them tight.

"Can fallen angels accept help? And do lost girls have a friend?" He asked.

This was a very different person beside her bed right now. He was being oddly gentle and soft. His voice was deep but calm and even, he also never fully acknowledge the things I've spat bitterly at him.

His response had hit me. Is he referring to me as a fallen angel and lost girl? I was no angel. I knew what I was, I don't remember how I became a monster, but I was one, I had blood all over me.

"I don't know." I muttered, "find an angel and ask. And I'm not lost, I know exactly where I am."

I heard him hum. He slowly shifted so he was sitting on the floor, leaning on the bedside table, his knees pulled up and he drapped his muscled arms around his knees.

"Did you push the girls in your maze away too?"

"They left me alone."

I rested my chin on my knees. He was quiet again, resting his head back, but I could see his eyes moving. He was chewing the inside of his cheek, I knew he was trying to figure something out. He had the same look in the maze or map room.