In Too Deep

Thirty Five

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She was detached from her body.

Sitting on the tile floor under the shower that wasn't turned on, Nova acknowledged that Vicious was speaking to her, but her eyes seemed to be mute to any sound around her.

Ben was dead.

She killed Ben. She was a murderer.

Her eyes slowly glanced down, at her hands, although clean, dark red blood seemed to drip from it and bounced onto the floor. She knew whose blood it was. She bit her lip, eyes watering as she started to wipe the blood away on her clothes, but it was still there. Still red. Coated along her fingers. Nova turned on the shower as the cold water hit her skin. She ran her hands under it, scrubbing at the blood away, which still lingered and lingered, and seemed to bubble up from the center of her palm.

When she blinked again, the blood was gone, but red bruises marred her palms from the assault it had endured. Nova ran her hands through her face, then looked up to turn off the shower. Movements from the bathroom pulled her attention away from her thoughts to the man that had just knelt down in front of her, lifting his hand to her face.

Vicious cupped the side of it and ran his thumb over her cheek softly before he murmured, softly, "Come back to me."

Nova roamed her eyes over his form, registering that he had changed out of his earlier clothes, now clad in dark clothes from head to toe. His hair was falling out of his face, and his green eyes were glowing brightly as they rested on her dull eyes. He resembled a dark, fallen angel.

Her words came out very robotic as if she were reading lines, "I'm not a murderer," she told him, but she felt it was more for herself than for him.

You represent something good, something innocent. Vicious wants to corrupt that. That was what Mario had said. She had been good, right up to the moment she had pulled a trigger and killed someone. What was she now?

He nodded. "You're not," he agreed calmly.

"It doesn't change how twisted you see the world and the people in it. You can't be right. There's no darkness inside me," she continued quietly, gazing at him. "I'm a good person."

They build this bubble of goodness around them, but with a little shove, he thinks he can bring out their dark side. After what she had done, was she still a good person?

Her words had the desired effect as she felt him freeze. Vicious' eyes flashed at her words like he knew where she was going with it. The atmosphere around them changed drastically. Both of them knew he hadn't forced her hand. He didn't threaten her to pull the trigger on Ben, and he certainly didn't tell her to kill him. However, maybe his words had a true inkling to it. People did have dark sides, and when push came the shove, it comes out.

Not a flicker of emotion passed through his gaze, but he did exhale, tilting his head to the side as he reached up and brushed her hair away from her face. He simply gazed at her through his eyes, completely still like they were both a ticking time bomb.

"I need you here with me." His voice was a sensual caress against her skin. "And I want you to listen to me. You did what you had to do, now you gotta let it go." Then he rested his forehead against hers and breathed out, "It won't do you any good if you keep torturing yourself."

"I killed someone, Vicious. I know that may seem easy for you, but it's not for me. I took a life. I can't just let it go. I'm supposed to help people, not take away their lives." She was carefully watching him, trying to gauge his reaction. She was trying to find herself in his eyes. Was a monster reflecting inside his eyes?