The Spare To The Throne

Chapter 46: Break In Sobriety

"Did he hurt you?" his pacing stops right before my bed.

I shrug in my oversized tee. "What does it matter?"

"Farrah," he comes close, his pacing now halted. "I need you to be honest with me. Did he hurt you, yes or no?"

I bite my lip, fearful of where this might lead. "Yes!" I scream. "Yes, h-he did," I pant, wide eyed. I replay last night's dinner in my head. It's honestly too early in the morning for this conversation. "But I'm fine. I'm used to it. What are you gonna do, kill him?"

Xavier looks hurt. Emotionally bruised by what I just said. He narrows his lips into an unexplainable frown. "Nothing is fine about someone hurting you, Farrah. Especially him!"

"Why? You did it! And I'm still here with you!"

He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it. When several seconds of silence pass by I shrug, giving a sad smile. "Story of my life."

I turn away to climb into bed.

"How?" Xavier probes.

I tuck myself underneath my covers. "How what?"

"How'd he hurt you?"

I gulp hard. "Please, don't make me walk down that memory lane." I say softly. I really don't want to do this.

"How?" He asks again, more aggressive this time and I know he won't let go of this topic. I inhale sharply, finding a spot on the carpet.

"He t-touched m-me," I look up to his hateful gaze. "But he s-stopped, so-"

"So you think that's okay?"

"Of course not! But I know more than anything that your way of fixing things involves planting bullets and that's not okay!"

"You should've told me yesterday," he looks at me astonished.

"I couldn't. I couldn't fathom having a gun to my head or almost being forced to-" I sigh, finding this conversation honestly stressful. "I couldn't accept what had just happened right there and then. I didn't want to believe it and all I wanted was to be comforted, Xavier." I stare at him, exasperated now. "I don't feel safe." I confess, truthfully.

He runs a hand through his hair, a look of longing in his face. He nears me, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. "Nothing's gonna happen to you. I swear on my life," he professes sternly, his hand brushing a stand of hair behind my ear.

"You can't say that," I move his hand away and a look of remorse masks his face. "You weren't there. What if he didn't have a message he wanted me to tell you, then what? I'd be history by now."

He listens intently, my words seeping in.

"Guerre," he says. "Guerre sanglante, that's exactly what he said?"

I nod my head yes. He definitely said it a lot better than I did. "What does it mean?" I ask wearily.

He peels his gaze. "War."

I furrow my brows. "Like gang related?"

He gives a tired chuckle. "Wouldn't that be simpler," he says more to himself than me. He fingers scratch his chin.

I sit up now, not liking his obscurity. "Hey, you have to be truthful with me since I was truthful with you."

His head turn to face me, a gentle hand is placed on my cheek. "This is more than you can understand."

I scoff. "Then help me understand. I'm wanted by enemies just by my affiliation with you, and I don't know why. Xavier, this is my life we're talking about. Secrecy has no room between us anymore. Not when I'm endangered." I retort.