Apparently, forever wasn’t meant to last nearly long enough…
Rosa jerked backwards, her heart thundering as the shard of glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the wooden floorboards beneath her bare feet. His smile— why did this stranger look so happy to see her? Why was he not shrinking away in fear and disgust?
That was the question that most occupied her mind as she pressed her slim figure against the wall, her trembling hands scrabbling for something to hold onto. Not how he had gotten in her room— why would she be confused about that? Rosa’s mind, though sharp and able, was clouded with insanity; the question didn’t even occur to her. No, she was afraid for a very different reason.
“Who are you? Why did Papa send you?”
For forever is merely a measure of time. It is unreachable.
He looked down at the floor and carefully swept up the pieces with a neat dress shoe. He looked up again to see her hiding away against the wall.
He bowed slightly to her, holding up his hands in a want for mercy and trust.
“I am not here to harm you, my lady, I have come here myself.”
Unreachable…. though she definitely tried. Jumped up to it, even. But, inevitably, she fell. Down, down….
Distrust surged within her, a sharp light of suspicion shining in her darkened eyes. “That’s— that’s what they all say,” she managed to choke out before strong, rough hands rapped around her bleeding neck from behind, dragging her down. Rosa collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath.
The thick fog in her head cleared, along with the hallucination, leaving her throat untouched by the firm hands procured by the depths of her twisted imagination. She could barely raise her head as dizziness swept through her, but she forced it up, meeting the softly twinkling eyes of the stranger.
(If I ever use italics in the middle of a sentence, it’s to signify that she’s hallucinating)
(Kk)
The man cleared the room in an instant with long strides, but kept his distance. He looked concerned for her, yet that happy twinkle didn’t dwindle out of his eyes.
“Are you quite alright, my fair lady? Do you need assistance getting up?” He knew not to ask about what happened. It even felt wrong thinking about it.
“And you can trust me, I assure. I will not hurt you like the others have. They want your money and your body. I want you.”
Rosa flinched away from the beautiful stranger, each soft word he spoke ripping through her like a bullet. How could he stand there, speaking to her like that? Why was he not shouting or slamming the door as he left? How could he possibly remove all traces of fear and fury from his voice— how could he replace it with a caring gentleness? She had almost forgotten what those words meant.
Rosa pushed herself to her feet, balanced precariously on her weak legs, her cracked lips parting to answer him as one hand reached up to graze the spot in her throat where she’d cut herself. “What do you want me for, then?” God, she hated how her voice shook, and felt a thrill of pleasure when her fingers came away coated in her own blood.
The man stood with her, watching her hand reach up to her neck and touch the spot of deep, ruby red blood oozing from her neck. He didn’t recoil when he saw it on her fingers.
He reached out, slowly, and grabbed her hands in his large ones. His hands were warm and soft in her shaking, cold ones.
“I want you for you. I want to see you every day I can. I don’t want you to be lonely any more.”
Rosa froze when his soft hands enclosed hers, her eyes flying open as her body tensed, waiting for the blow that would surely come. But it never did. The man didn’t raise a single finger against her. Gently prying herself from his gentle hold, she pressed her fingers to the spot above her wildly beating heart.
“But I don’t even know your name…” The trapped uncertainty in her voice gave way to fear and distrust once more. Rosa took a stumbling step backwards against the wall, breathing heavily. “And you don’t know mine. You don’t know me.”
A gust of wind stirred the heavy curtains pulled back around her open window, crystalline white flakes continuing to blow through and speckle the floor. A shiver racked her body, causing her to bring her frail arms up to hug her chest.
Jaxon looked to the window, which was stirring in a cold breeze. “Why, dear, of course I know your name. It is Rosa, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He crossed the room almost dreamily, shutting the window swiftly.
“There we are.” He looked back at her, smiling softly, as if smiling at a newborn child. “I’m sorry if I startled you. My name is Jaxon. Jaxon Eruidite.”
Rosa’s arms tightened around her torso as she shrank back into a corner, strands of dark hair falling in front of her face and cutting off her line of vision. The blood at her throat, it dripped down the length of her body in turbulent streams, pooling at her feet and seeping across the floor towards the man— Jaxon. The tiniest of whimpers tumbled from her mouth. “I’m not beautiful.” She didn’t question the fact that he knew her name, only the fact that he seemed so at ease around her, the insane girl, the dangerous woman.
Jaxon crossed the room, once again, to her, bending down slightly a few feet away. “Ah, but you are. I would hate to see you rot away in here from all of this cold.” He put his hands together, prying for her eyes.
“Would you like me to get you a blanket? You are shaking. And perhaps I can patch up that wound for you.”
Rosa wished she could melt into the puddle of her own blood, disappear from the world— she wished she could finish what she’d started before this man had intervened. A brief madness lighting up her shadowed eyes, she pushed her hair away from her face and reached for the fractured glass only a few feet away from her. It’ll all be over soon…
Jaxon watched her hand reach out. He stepped forward and instead of taking her hand, he took the glass.
“I think I should get rid of this, first, before I do anything else for you.” He gently tucked the glass away into his pocket.
And just like that, Rosa watched her only way of escape disappear. No. Her desperation rose, crashing over her like a tidal wave. “No—“ she whimpered, withdrawing her limbs until she was pressed into a corner of the room as if trying to fold herself into oblivion. “Please—“ She didn’t realize she was willing to beg until the word flew out of her mouth. “You don’t understand—“ In a panicked frenzy, she reached out for the man once more, her hands coated in the blood still pooling on the floor, clogging the room with its sickly scent.
Jaxon watched her fold herself away, looking mildly concerned. “I don’t think I want you to. I want you to be safe.” He stepped forward towards her and gently took her hands. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself any more.”
Like a wild animal coaxed gently out of the shadows, Rosa allowed him to carefully pull her forward, watching him with wide, darting eyes. Slowly, the blood on her hands melted away until her skin was clean, washed pure. His touch was soft, gentle, as if he were afraid she might break, and his presence began to calm her, bit by bit, until she was pressed against his chest in a soothing embrace.
Jaxon smiled, hugging her cold body close into his chest. “There you are. You are so cold. Let us move to the bed, where you can warm up and I can patch up your wound.”
Rosa could only nod and follow him, immersed in a dizzying fog. She sat down on her bed, eyes glued to his form lest he made a movement against her— but he did nothing. What? Tilting her head, she did her best to focus on the pain as a question arose in her eyes.
Jaxon wrapped a blanket around her and grabbed a medicine kit from inside of her nightstand. He sat next to her, grabbing out a piece of cloth and tape. He set it carefully on her cut, taping it carefully.
“I think I’ll check up on it every day. Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”
She jerked backwards on instinct, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her heart immediately began to race once more as she clutched the freshly bandaged arm to her chest. “You’re coming back?” There was a slight, almost grudging relief in her voice, yes, but it was diluted in the ocean of fear that ran from her voice. If he came back, he could change his mind. He could hurt her— Papa could find out.
As if she’d summoned him by thought, her father materialized beside her, grabbing a fistful of her dark, tangled hair and yanking her away from Jaxon. Rosa fell back, tumbling off the bed just as the image disappeared— just another trick of her twisted mind.
Jaxon opened his mouth to respond, only to jump forward in an attempt to stop her from falling to the floor. He failed, but he lifted her up slowly, setting her down on the bed amd rewrapping her.
“Of course I am.” He sat down next to her, embracing her once more.
Rosa pressed her fingers to her temples, concentrating on the wild beating of her heart and trying to bring it down to a normal speed. Just breathe… she told herself, but even the voice in her head shook as she recalled the exact feeling of her father’s fist wrapped around her hair. A single word flew from her mouth, loaded with meaning. “Why?”
Jaxon hugged her close to his chest slowly, resting his forehead against her rubbing hands.
“Because you need to be safe and happy. Which is exactly why I am here.”
Rosa was tense against him at first, but his embrace gradually loosened her limbs and relaxed her shoulder until she— almost— felt somewhat safe. Her hand traveled up to her bosom, slipping under the neckline of her dress to bring out a small, tarnished silver cross on a chain around her neck. She rubbed it, thinking. “Are you my guardian angel? Did God send you? Do I deserve a guardian angel? Or are you here to take me to hell?” Her emotions fluctuated so frequently— it was suddenly as if she were a small child in need of comfort.
Jaxon looked down at her, gently taking her small shaking hand in his large warm one. He kissed her fingers gently, smiling.
“I suppose I am. I’m whatever you want me to be. I’m here for you, after all.”
(Hey Emi, would you mind making your responses a little longer? No pressure or anything, just maybe a fourish/three long sentence minimum if that’s okay)
And she was scared all over again, jerking her hands away from him and pressing them against her chest. It was all just too fast— it was moving too fast for her to understand— her breaths were coming in quicker and quicker—
Rosa inhaled unsteadily, fumbling to form the right words. “You’re here for me?”
(Oh no, not at all. I’m just not a very long writer, it’s how I learned. I’m sorry.)
Jaxon hastily let her go, raising his hands away from her. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay!” He grabbed her hands in his gently, leaning away from them so she could have some space to herself. He gazed steadily into her eyes, nodding.
“Of course. I’m here for you. As long as you need me.” He smiled, his eyes still twinkling whimsically.
(Don’t apologize or worry about it, I just learned the exact opposite so it’s what I’m more used to, sorry)
Rosa faltered at the sight of that dazzling smile. It was a minute before she was able to tear her eyes away from his face and focus them on her intertwined hands. So much contact… When was the last time she’d touched someone this much? Before her first major hallucination? When she was seven years old?
She let out a breath. “I don’t believe you.”
(That’s okay. I worry about my writing style so much, honestly.)
Jaxon set his hands down on his lap, smiling idly at her profile. He had no idea what to do, but he wanted his new friend to be happy. To smile and laugh, but honestly he knew that would take a while. It was a while worth spending with her, though.
“Oh?” He asked. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Well, I promise I tell the truth.” He rose his right hand, his left still on his lap.
(You shouldn’t, it’s fantastic!)
“Promises are easily broken,” she croaked, but— was that a hint of doubt behind her words? Was she beginning to cave in? Rosa stared down at her wrist, tracing the scars she’d carved there mere months ago. After a pause, she spoke again. “Where do you come from?”
(Thanks! Yours is great too!)
Jaxon looked down at the scars on her wrist, resisting the urge to reach out and grab her hands. He set his right hand down and shrugged, looking up at the window.
“I come from the snow and stars. Perhaps the night and the shining moon. I don’t know, probably from the same place or way that you did.”
