Black Temptation

Chapyer 40

It's the pictures from the folder I was given 7 long months ago. The personal ones. His house. His car. Him. And the list of guns, gun holders, and poisons used to quote 'eliminate excess weight'. I rip the papers up, and finding the switch, I throw them in the fire place. Grabbing my forehead, I look at him. His chest is heaving. He's pale. He's cold. He's furious. And now-at me. I approach him, weary eyed.

"Don't touch me." He snarls, backing away.

"Harry, I can explain."

"Explain? That's the reason you went to Peters that day-you were going to kill me...!" Harry turns around, grabbing his t shirt in pain.

"No, Harry, I was just confused, I went to say I couldn't do his dirty work anymore. I told you."

"So you were a bitch to me because you knew I would pursue you and find out?" He screams, fuming.

"No! I didn't want you to peruse me because you were being annoying! You just were so blinded by that big ego that you couldn't see that."

"Well now look where we are. I pursued you like you claim you didn't want and now look at us. Look at you! Why do you still have it?"

Looking around I stutter, "I-I,"

Harry loosens his fist striking the glass wall near the staircase, shattering it.

"Don't use that little petty stutter with me, like you do with everyone else. I think we've passed that." He breathes fire at me. I'm cornered and a bit surprised. Not really by his reaction but by my ignorance to not tell him or the need, or lack there of, to tell him.

"Well since you know me, then you'd know that I was confused and you'd understand that I didn't know what I was going to do so I kept it so if I did, fall on troubling times, I could-"

Harry breathes in.

"Not kill you! Just do something else. Have a reference of what I've been doing so I wouldn't go back in that life totally forgotten."

"With these private pictures?"

"I just forgot..."

"Forgot!? How do you forget something like that?"

Shaking my head I stutter,

"B-But wouldn't you rather I, your bird, your princess, have them, than Peters who hates us both?"

"Are you serious?" He whispers. "I don't care now. We don't keep secrets from each other. I thought we didn't..." He raises his finger at me. "You should've told me!"

"How? 'Oh Harry, I know we fucked but way back when I was assigned to kill you.' How can someone handle that?

He turns to me, face hardened and undeniably offended.

"We don't fuck. I don't fuck. I make love to you and I do a pretty damn good job at it, or have your forgotten?"

Lowering my head I speak, "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry. I just didn't want to hurt you. My past is so ugly and so foul. And I wish I could take it all back," I cry, "But I can't. I didn't want you to be ashamed of me. I didn't want to burden you."

"It's not your choice!" He growls, shaking his hand at me. "...You should've told me."

Face bubbling, he flicks his hand at me and runs upstairs but he stops.

"I only haven't told you to get the fuck out of my house because I love you, don't overstay your welcome. I thought you were different."

He leaves for upstairs, but halts,

"Trips off," and slams the door. I fall on the conch, burying my head in my hands.

"Ugh!"

Not only have I just ruined the one sliver of trust he had in me, I also am now in his house. I fall on hard sleep on the conch that night only to be awoken by the sounds of smashing glass and intense growling. Following the robust wall echoes, slowly, I lunge into a room of star and galactic projections. Harry's being showered in light as he breaks every vase, bowl, plate and cup in presence.

"Harry..." I whisper, air heavier now that I've made my presence known. He's still breaking the glass. He doesn't look at me. He doesn't flinch. I look aside, breathe in, and look back.

"Harry, please." Smash. "Please. Just," Smash. "Just talk to me, J-" I approach him and he freezes. You weren't supposed to do that, McKenzie. Stepping back, his blood liquefies as he destroys the makeup of another bowl. He shakes his hair, both hands tight, and exits the room in a swift 1-2-3 motion. In no way acknowledging my presence with his eyes. He ignored my once undeniable merit. I am now yeast-less inside him.

The entire week or so, I try to talk to him, not exclusively with words but with my warmth, my eyes, my yearning touch. And nothing, nothing ever makes him even look in my direction. The mere thought of me seems disgusting. What makes it unbearable is the fact that he said he loves me. He loves me. Yet I'm the one in the dog house. My fear is blooming. I don't want to be that spark. I don't want to be the reason he falls back into his own ways. The contradiction of good soul, bad habits is not one I would love to dwell back into. Especially, out of all of the progress we've made. I stay up, secretly, just to hear him moving around at night, talking to himself, taking countless showers, going in and out of the house numerous times-existing-which now just seems more like surviving.