I scrubbed my flesh clean beneath the flow of hot water while listening to Piano Sonata No.14 in C Sharp Minor performed by the Berlin Symphonic Orchestra. It was a melancholy and self-pitying thing to do, but I could accept that I was a tad over dramatic in my musical decisions at times. My fingers twitched with the urge to play the song myself. It had been too long since I’d indulged in creating my own music. I used to use the music rooms in Ash Chambers every day to play, but recently I’d been going there less and less. The piano always felt like it had a direct lifeline to my heart and sometimes I didn’t like to face the darkness of the music I was compelled to create.
But tomorrow I was going to go back to the instrument I loved and face my demons. And if it was self indulgent to do it then so be it. I could admit I was a selfish, petty creature at times. Probably more often than not if I was honest.
I got out of the shower and dried myself carefully, brushing my teeth before swiping a hand over the mirror to clear the condensation from it so that I could hunt my eyes for the darkness which still stirred beneath my skin. Not that it ever truly left. I thought of it as an endless sea. Sometimes I found myself drowning in the depths of it and other times I was wading along the shore, only my toes dipped beneath the waves. Today I was caught in a whirlpool which threatened to drag me down to the bottom.
I sighed as I allowed the sorrowful playlist to continue, tapping the console on the wall to lower the volume and send it out to the speakers in my room so that I could latch onto it when I saw her.
I would prove that I was the master of my own evil.
She could sleep in my bed and I’d save her punishment for tomorrow when my blood wasn’t running so cold. Or maybe the next day. I wouldn’t think on it now either way.
I pulled the bathroom door open and fell still as I found her kneeling outside it waiting for me. Just like I asked her to do in the mornings outside the crypt. She’d changed into the black shorts and camisole I’d selected for her and her golden hair had been brushed until it shone, cascading down around her face as she kept her head down.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my throat raw as I looked at her and my heart pounded to a deliciously slow beat.
How did she know exactly how to disarm me? How did she see so much of me when I made sure to keep everything in me locked down at all times? I hadn’t even considered asking her to do this for me and yet she’d realised that it was what I needed. But why? Why would she care what I needed when she’d been the architect of my demise?
“Making peace,” she replied without raising her head. “For tonight.”
I swallowed thickly, my skin tingling as I looked down at her, curled in submission by her own choice.
“Why?” I murmured. I couldn’t understand it. She’d brought me to ruin and I thought that was what she’d wanted to do.
“Because…I’m tired, Saint. I’m tired of all of you hurting me and me hurting you and I just want to pretend for a little while that we’re even. You burned my letters so I burned your records.” She shrugged her shoulders and her hair shifted where she remained kneeling before me.
The truth lodged in my throat for a moment, but I didn’t speak it. I was still too raw after what she’d taken from me.
“I guess on this one thing we’re even then,” I conceded. “Those records were the only thing I had left of my grandmother, so…”
She inhaled sharply and looked up at me, her hair splitting apart to reveal her blue eyes.
“I didn’t know that,” she said, frowning slightly like that might have changed what she’d done. But I didn’t see why it would. “Did you love her?”
I grunted noncommittally, offering her a hand to pull her up.
She gazed at me like she was deciding whether or not to accept it before slipping her hand into mine.
I pulled her upright and she stood before me with her breath feathering past her parted lips, a thin lock of golden hair fluttering between us.
She still held my hand and my skin burned where it met hers, like I was ice and she was fire and we were destined to collide like this again and again until one of us was destroyed. And as I looked into her eyes, I was almost certain that it would be me. That the fire in her would never go out and I was bound to be consumed by it. But in that moment, it didn’t seem like the worst of fates.
I reached out with my free hand and gently tucked the loose lock of hair behind her ear, the silken strands brushing against my skin as I lingered in that touch.
“Why do you always have to do that?” she asked softly, her fingers shifting against mine.
“Do what?”
“Fix me. Tidy me up. Dress me like some perfect little dolly and correct every small imperfection.” The tightness in her lips said she didn’t like that and I frowned as I tried
