09 || Kitchen Knives

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kitchen knives

kitchen knives

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"Raphael."

Raphael's breath tickles the curve of my ear as he whispers the word. It sounds like a secret when he says it, an inside joke between the two of us. In a way, I suppose it is. 

 I close my eyes.   

 "Wait a minute," Nikita's voice comes from far away, even though she's just a few steps besides us. "You're telling me that Vivre was right? Raphael is your real name?"

"I believe that's what I just said." 

"Why would you lie about your real name?" 

He takes a step back to answer her question. The warmth of his body vanishes and my curls fall back around my shoulders, brushing against my bare skin uncomfortably. Nikita and Raphael's conversation becomes a background murmur, pressed against the chatter of my thoughts. 

dont trust raphael dont trust rapahel dont trust raphael

Despite this revelation, I'm not panicking.

Instead, I feel weirdly peaceful, almost hollow. When I open my eyes again, Nikita and Raphael are arguing. Funnily enough, she's more angry at Raphael than I am. 

They're still talking when I walk towards them. 

"...makes no sense," Nikita continues. "Why would a name bring back bad memories?" 

"Names are powerful things." 

"Powerful enough to lie about them?" 

I walk between them, not-so-subtly getting their attention. Their conversation cuts off as I continue up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Raphael says. 

"To find Blair and the others," I take two more steps, then look back. "Unless you two want to chat some more?" 

Neither of them seem impressed by me, but they follow anyways. Even though I'm a few steps ahead of them, they catch up easily and continue the argument they had earlier. Meanwhile, I think about the text from earlier. 

Don't trust Raphael. 

My phone shifts against my upper thigh. I want to reach into my robe and pick it up. Now that I know who Raphael is, maybe I can find clues in the message. But I can't pick up the phone without Raphael noticing it so I leave it in my pocket for now. 

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