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Could it be… The question trails off in my mind when Markus scoots his chair in. It reminds me of the man sitting in the same chair, struggling to get loose, and scooting the chair across the floor in the process.
All those memories come rushing back, and all I can do is stand there. Frozen in place, I stare at him sitting at the table, only a few feet away from where he shot that man in cold blood.
“You need to get over that,” Markus growls. “Yes, someone died here. It’s done and over with. There is no need to worry. I bleached the place. It’s all clean, now do what I told you to.” He doesn’t even blink, and I wonder if he’s even human. If there is even a part of him that shows empathy and guilt. Does he even care? All clean? Does he think I’m worried about it not being sanitary? Does he really think that’s my problem?
“Fallon, I’m losing my patience,” he warns, and I know there is no getting out of this.
“I’m sorry…” I look anywhere but at that wall because it reminds me of everything that Markus is. It takes all the kindness he’s shown me and shits on it.
“Don’t be sorry. Just do what I told you to,” he barks, and the coldness in his voice touches me in the tips of my toes.
Something foul must’ve happened to put him in such a bad mood.
Forcing my legs to move, I step into the kitchen and toward the shopping bags piled on the counter. I’m a twisted knot, my insides churning, but manage to unpack the groceries even with my hands shaking.
“Do you care what I cook?” I ask when I’m finished stocking the fridge.
“I’ll eat whatever.”
“Okay, I’ll fry some chicken.” I get the chicken, broccoli, and some potatoes back out to prepare.
Not wanting to ask any more questions, I look for everything I need. I quickly find a cutting board, spices, and a pan. Then, I spot the knife block next to the stove.
It doesn’t even dawn on me that he is giving me access to a weapon until the heavy butcher knife is nestled against my palm.
Glancing up at him, I find his eyes are already on me, and his lips are pulled up into an unsettling grin. “I’ll have you disarmed twice before you have a chance to nick me with that, so don’t even think about it. It won’t end well for you.”
“I wasn’t thinking about attacking you,” I say truthfully. “I’m just surprised you let me handle a knife, but I wasn’t thinking about stabbing you with it. I’m not like you. I don’t think I could ever hurt someone.”
“You’d be surprised what you’re capable of when your life depends on it.”
“Maybe,” I murmur, looking at the shiny blade.
“You don’t think you would try to slit my throat if I was treating you differently? If I was starving or beating you every day? If you had to choose between my life or your life? I can guarantee that you would try to kill me in a heartbeat.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry as the desert. “I don’t know.”
Truly, I don’t know. I have never been put in a situation like that, never been pushed to my limits, having to fight for my life. Could I kill someone so easily? No, but he’s right. If it was my life or his, then I would do everything I could to save myself.
“Don’t overthink it. Anyone smart would try to kill the person hurting them.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper, and it’s the truth.
I don’t want to hurt him. Not even after all that’s happened to me while being here with him. I’m not like him. I’m not capable of hurting or destroying. Markus and I are nothing alike. He is darkness and agony. I’m light and happiness. We’re on two different spectrums of the universe.
“You don’t have to feel guilt over it. I’d expect you to hurt me. Hell, part of me is just waiting for you to act out. To try and poison me or attack me.”
I can’t help myself. I let out a laugh. “Poison you? Where would I get poison? And attack you? I’m not stupid. I know you’d have me subdued in a second flat, so I’m not about to waste either of our time with that.”
I look from the cutting board and find a small, what could be considered a figment of my imagination, smile tugging at his lips.
“Every time I think I have you figured out, you show me a different side of you. You’re something else, Fallon.”
The way he says my name makes my belly heat. It’s a stupid reaction, one I should not have toward him. I can’t control my treacherous body when he is near or when he acts with kindness. It’s like beneath the armor, he is a different person altogether, and the weight of the world, his world, has caused him to build up high walls.
