Darkness and Beauty (The Fated Series, #1)

Chapter 26 - Darius - Questions With No Answers

I wake up to a ray of sun finding its way through the curtains and into my eyes. At least I'm not in control of myself and watching as the dammed creature nearly kills Clarice. Again.
It's been almost another cycle since the nightmares started. After that first night, the same dream has plagued me every night, and every night the conversation changes. Everything else stays the same. The crowd, the royals, the stranger...but what the stranger and his companions say is different. Then when the stranger pulls the monster out, the creature shows up, finds a way to somehow hurt Clarice which I can never erase from my mind, and then it just...leaves, waiting somewhere inside me until its master calls once more.
The second night it managed to throw her across the room, fracturing a rib despite her expecting the attack this time. After that, we decided to tie my wrists and ankles together to try and contain the thing.
Long story short, it didn't work.
The creature - which Clarice has named the Demoni - snapped through the rope like it was a twig and tackled Clarice. The fourth night we tried chains but he broke those with ease too. We tried everything, and every time Clarice got hurt. He didn't care about nor lay a finger on anyone but her unless they got in the way of her. The fifth night I - or rather her brother - convinced her to stay in the front room. The Demoni literally sniffed the air, caught her scent, and then proceeded to ram through the bedroom doors and straight into her gut. Arthur was with her at the time and put me in a headlock, squeezing until I passed out. Of course, that was after the Demoni threw him into the wall and then nearly impaled him.
Clarice has been visited by Siscilla every night to tend to her wounds, and every night I would coax her in apologies or lock myself somewhere else where I couldn't hurt her again, because what if he does come back? I have no control of my own Godsdamned body when it's here, and I have no idea where it goes when it leaves, but who's to say it can't just take over whenever it feels like it? I can't stop seeing every bruise, broken bone, or drop of blood my own hands have given her in the past cycle alone every time I look at her. She's tried to get me to stop apologizing, but it's the only thing I can offer her aside from sarcastic comments, and she hates those, and I have nothing else to offer.
Nothing but more pain the next night, apparently.
Then there's the pain I cause her brother and my own friends. They're never nearly as bad as what I end up doing to her, but they're still bad enough for Siscilla to need to tend to them too. Lance is the only other one who gets almost as beat up as her, but that's because he's the first to jump in front of me, the first to get knocked down, and the first to take the next hit that was meant for her.
Cycles ago I couldn't even land a single thought of a hit on her, and now I'm practically beating her to near death every night and that...
Saints, how will I ever make up for this?
The last few days have been more or less the same. Wake up after an eventful night, eat breakfast with The Dozen while Clarice catches a few hours of sleep, and then bathe and dress for the day. I want to tell her that she can sleep soundly at night, but if it were the other way around I wouldn't sleep either.  Not when I could wake to someone's hands around my throat or theirs plunging a damn knife into my chest.
I haven't gotten to weapon yet, thank the Gods, but something tells me the lack of steel in the room wouldn't stop a thing named Demoni.
After she eats we try and think of more ways to try and keep me held down. Then, just so people don't think we're dead, we walk about the castle grounds trying to find some entertainment to distract our minds. Those nonawkward moments of hand holding or just being close to one another have become...tense. I just - ugh, I hate that every time I touch her I think of how I hurt her. I think of the bruises she woke up with or the bags now showing beneath her eyes from the lack of sleep. I think of how though no evidence is left due to Siscilla's interventions, I can still see every bruise or broken bone and I remember how she got them. From me throwing her across the room or punching her or kicking her or my hands going around her throat and feeling the air in her throat trying to get through.
I try not to flinch when her hand touches mine anymore, but when I manage to do that then it leads to my heart racing like a wild horse and my breathing turning shallow. I...I start to panic. I start to think that at any second, the Demoni will wake and toss her out a window and have her falling from a height that she won't be able to be healed in time to save.
I don't like hurting her - not even a little bit, but I try to shove it down anytime we're out of the tower.
Every time we run into Eleanor, Clarice moves her hand within easy reach of the knife that she hides in the pocket of her dress. A comfort to me more than anything knowing that if it came down to it, she could use it.
She's had Katarina make sure all her clothes have at least one pocket to stick a weapon into. Either way, The Dozen always stop Eleanor before she can reach me, and if she wishes to walk with us, she's forced to walk beside Garrison. It's funny to watch when Clarice and Eleanor stay civilized but always have an edge in their voices as if it's a sword. It's a good distraction for my running mind.
After walking, I attend my lessons with Aracely while Clarice catches up on her latest book. Or rather bookssss. Then we head to my mother's quarters to dine and talk until she deems it bedtime. Plus, Arthur and his sister can update each other on whatever they're looking into and the latest updates. Two nights ago, when they left in the night to speak with their father, they came back limping and complaining of multiple bruises. I knew better than to think that their father was the cause of their injuries. I hurt them, and I walked into the other room before I lost my damn mind.
We moved back into my tower, staying in her room. Clarice's room is refurbished and now dressed in lavender, but with everything going on, we haven't spent much time in there. Every night after we leave my mother's chambers, we head back to my own rooms. No one knows what the thief was after, but Arthur said it was just a way for the Cressidians to make it known that they have ways to get inside the castle if they wanted to. 
We haven't even gotten to our late-night training, but I'm keen on convincing Clarice to put us through hell tonight. I want to be so tired that someone has to carry me back up to bed. Who knows, maybe the exhaustion will cause me to be too tired for a dream.
Every morning I wake up to start my day all over again and I think back to that first night. When I woke up only to find that he was still in control, I didn't know what to do. I just...watched. Clarice's face was hovering over mine, inches from me to where I could feel her quickened breath on my cheeks. I could feel everything around me. The sheets on my back, Mal's hands on my legs, Clarice's hands pinning my wrists down. I could even feel the silk of her night dress, but I couldn't move. And then I did.
One second I was on my back. The next she was on hers and my hands were on her neck. I could feel her heartbeat beneath my fingers, the tight air trying to rush in and out of her lungs. I'll never forget the calmness of her face despite her life being slowly pulled from her. And when she said my name...her voice...I'll never forget the sound of her voice. The way it sounded like Aracely dragging her long nails on the table. How it must've felt like nails being hammered into their throat, scratching it, and then her choking on the blood from the wounds.
Rubbing my eyes with the palm of my hands, I force the events of that first night that repeated itself last night out of my head and try to start this day on a good note. Okay, semi-good note.
"Alas, thou princess awakes from her sleep of beauty." Clarice's voice sounds like she's got something stuck in her throat. As she shifts on the bed.
You did that, I think to myself.
It doesn't get better when I look at her finding her once more sitting with her back against the wood. She looks helplessly tired, and the discoloration on her neck isn't helping. Demoni got to her neck again, and this time he bruised everything.
She notices my stare and does that long sigh she always does when I stare at what I did. "Don't worry about it. I've been through worse."
"That doesn't make my action no less wrong," I counter, forcing my eyes to the ceiling.
"No. But it wasn't you who did it, so, therefore, you have nothing to be sorry for, right?"
How does it not hurt to talk?
"I don't know," I answer honestly. I don't know entirely what happened. That creature - that thing - is still there. I can feel it now that I've searched for it every day. Quiet, but pacing like a stressed mother worrying about her child who was due home an hour ago. "You should sleep for a few hours," I tell her as I stand up, no longer able to sit still.
"I'm fine," she insists dryly.
"You were up all night."
She doesn't respond. Instead, she releases another long sigh and then stands from the bed. She stops not a foot from me, her hands on her hips looking like a disappointed teacher. I stand there, waiting for the slap or punch or kick to be thrown. I kind of deserve it. Correction, I deserve a shit ton worse than one measly hit. Instead, she spreads her arms wide and gives me an exasperated look.
"Yes?" I ask not knowing what's about to happen. Is she preparing to slap me or something? Tackle me?
"This isn't going to happen often or again, so..." Her fingers wiggle and I suddenly understand.
"Are you...are you offering me a hug?"
"Arthur says I need to be more aware of your feelings."
"Arthur?"
"He came in while you were snoring. Not that you noticed." I didn't. "Do you want the hug or not?"
"First of all, I don't snore." Her eyebrow raises in question. "Secondly, I..." I drift off as my gaze snatches on her neck.
I've never harmed someone this badly in my life. I've thought about it several times, mostly about my father, but I've never acted on them. The anger and pain I wanted to impose on Clarice, that wasn't real. But I can't stop thinking that all that anger had to have come from somewhere.
Before I can finish my sentence, Clarice wraps her arms around my neck. Stunned, I resist the urge to pull back my head so as not to touch her bruises. The skin-to-skin contact has panic striking a knife in my chest because though it was all clean from her collarbone down, it wasn't.
I go rigid, too afraid that any sudden movement will result in her getting hurt, again. She doesn't deserve to be hurt - I don't want her to get hurt, and a part of me is afraid that hugging her back will hurt her. I've never been afraid of hugs before, but this is different. I'm different.
I search my mind, waiting for the red-eyed Demoni to crawl out of its hiding place and pin me to the dark ground of my mind with its claws. Fighting him night after night has also been an annoyance. Doing so is probably why I do go back to sleep after it all. That, and Siscilla's sleeping drafts.
Fauna still doesn't let go of me, even as I continue to just stand there, hands splayed away from her before they can do something reckless.
"You're supposed to hug me back, you idiot," she says on my shoulder. The rush of her breath down my back sends shivers down my spine. I don't know if they were good shivers or bad shivers, but it felt...odd.
I look at my hands and curl them into fists. Too afraid to close my eyes, I bite into my cheek and slowly wrap my own arms around her. Again, I wait for my body to separate from my mind, but nothing happens. There's just...peace. I wait for another second. When nothing happens I almost let my legs give out. The panic is gone, and my hands aren't shaking nor my chest feeling as if it's about to explode. I really do feel nothing. Well, I feel relieved, if not a little excited.
Holding back some very unmanly tears, I let my arms tighten around her a little more, just to make sure it's all real. Just like holding hands, hugging her isn't awkward. If I'm being honest, I really needed this hug. Even if Arthur did suggest it.
Clarice pulls back, her hands moving to my shoulders and keeping me here. I want to thank her for it, but I doubt she'll accept it without making fun of me or deflecting in one way or another. "Well, now that that's over. Get out."
I blink at her. "What?"
"I can't sleep with your moping and depressing thoughts running around the room like children who just found out that sugar exists. So, please. Get out."
"Well, it was fun while it lasted," I say before grabbing a shirt Thomas must've left on the trunk at the foot of the bed, and walk out of the room. When I turn back to close the door, Clarice is already in the bed and drifting off. The urge to thank her rises again. She really doesn't know how amazing she is, does she? Observant and smart as she is, I don't think she'll ever understand how much that one hug helped.
I no longer dread today as much as I do the night.