Of Poison And Flowers

§|Chapter 7|§

Confusion (n.): Lack of understanding, uncertainty.
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It was absolutely terrifying.

Ascelin would say he had dealt with far scarier things in his life than a tiny woman looking up at him with that genuine smile when he agreed to help her with her small house. He'd looked into the barrel of a gun on far too many occasions to count-more than once his own- and he had long grown familiar with the fact that there were things far worse than death.

This was a different kind of terrifying, a confusing sort of scary. He'd always understood pain, why it was necessary, how more often than not it was the consequence of his own actions. Something clear and predictable; if he followed the rules and if he remained in line then he would be mostly alright. If he dared walk outside of the very clear borders set for him or if he dared disobey an order, then pain was the consequence. It was something that was more than familiar by now, a constant sort of thread throughout his life that he would never admit to finding comfort in. It was predictable and at the very least if he told himself that it was his own fault when he was made to bleed again, then it meant he had some control over it.

But this was different. The way Azalea looked at him and the way she'd reached out to touch him were unlike anything he'd really known before. It was strangely gentle in a way that was without a price. Of course, Ascelin wasn't a stranger to gentle touches, but they always came at a cost. Sometimes he shared a bed with a woman, and their hands would trace along his skin in a soft way, but there was always the expectation of returning it. The price to pay for such touches was sex, it was purely transactional on both sides and it was something that made perfect sense. There was no part of a debt as payment was given by both sides during the act, it wasn't like this.

Azalea reached out for his hand with something of genuine concern, the way she'd brushed her fingertips along the bandages and his skin, but when she'd looked at him it had been worry. Just worry. No unspoken expectations, no desire for something more-for him, she just touched him as though it was nothing special. As she had that first night, when she stupidly found him there and insisted on helping despite his threats, how the second time she'd refused to take the money.

He'd understood her at first. He was powerful, of course there were things she could ask of him that were more valuable than money. Favours, connections, perhaps leniency from his family's side or protection against those he shared his blood with. He'd been angry at the fact that she hadn't allowed him to choose, that she hadn't accepted the money because he was scared of whatever it was she might ask. Whatever she may want of him while he wouldn't know if it was something he was comfortable giving.

And then she'd asked for his number, with such a look of genuine wonder in those large eyes and she'd seemed almost taken aback by his name. He'd thought that was the last of it, that she simply decided that him not killing her was the price she'd accept now that she knew who he was and then she sent him a message. And she did it once again when she was at that party and he really should have gone to help purely because then they would be equal again.

But he hadn't, had he? No, when she'd send him a message and he'd gotten into his car and perhaps broken a few speed limits, he'd been worried. When he threatened that other guy after seeing the relief on Azalea's face as he showed up he hadn't even considered that debt.

It wasn't until that night, as he laid in his apartment and stared at the ceiling, that the thought of having repaid her even crossed his mind.

And now she stood there in her apartment and smiled at him as though it wasn't something special just because he offered to help her. Looked at him without any fear as though she didn't even consider their differences, didn't consider that he could hurt her and that there was nothing she could do to stop him. Because he had, he'd realised it. And the moment he'd stood beside her and realised he could wrap his hand around her throat and strangle her before anyone could stop him, he had wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her and tell her she was being stupid. Had wanted to tell her that she shouldn't be so naive as to trust him, to trust anyone that easily.