All that is dark | ✓

10| jealousy

"YOU WANTED ME TO come, mister Parker?"

The director always had seemed to be a nervous man, but now that anxiety seemed to have skyrocketed. He was unable to sit still, voice quivering as he had taken a place beside Helene, as if he was even afraid of her. Helene couldn't help but wonder how he had managed to rise to a position like this with so little courage, but then again, money always seemed to work wonders with people. Everyone forgot fear at the right price.

"I did," Nathan smiled, gaze slowly wandering over the director," you took your time coming here, Sawyer."

Helene couldn't help but think how absurd it sounded to have a serial killer on first name basis with the director, while the latter addressed him formally. Dante seemed to have the same thoughts, frowning as he looked from the director back to Nathan, but for once refraining himself from speaking. A wise choice. He probably didn't want his punishment to become even longer than it was already.

"I -" Sawyer began, cheeks flushed as his gaze anxiously flitted towards Helene," why am I here?"

"Didn't your guards tell you?" Nathan said, raising one eyebrow," do your subordinates not respect you at all?"

No one spoke up, all their confidence gone after Nathan had spoke to Don earlier. When it came to it, none of them were willing to die for their job. Helene respected that. If anything, she wished she was like that as well, but she never had been able to do things without losing herself in her useless pursuit of perfection. She had to be the best at everything she did, even if that meant baring her youth to a serial killer who could kill her at a moment's notice, even if that meant isolating herself completely from the world.

"I heard something about a conflict," the director said, his words coming out in a rush," something with Helene -"

"Doctor Amsel," Nathan corrected him sharply," do tell me, Sawyer, when did you get close enough with my psychiatrist to refer to her by her first name?"

"You do so as well," Dante frowned, unable to stop himself.

"Are you comparing my and Helene's relationship with his?" Nathan said, slowly turning his head towards Dante," isn't it clear by now that I'm the only one who understands her truly? You pretend you do, Zarowski, to feel better, but all you see is your little sister when you look at her, don't you? Do you think this is your second chance? That you will succeed in rescuing someone else the way you weren't able to with your own blood?"

How did Nathan even have all this knowledge stored in his head? Helene stared at him almost in bewilderment, almost sure at this point that he knew everything about everyone. He probably did. Knowledge was power and he seemed to relish in it, even now smiling as Dante's face paled. She had seen her bodyguard in various stages of distress before, but nothing like this, never like this.

From the pieces of information he had given her she had already strung together that she probably reminded him of his sister, whose death most likely had been by self-destruction as well. Still, she hadn't expected to see it confirmed like this, staring at Nathan as if his eyes reminded him of a grave miles away, one decorated with white lilies and his tears. He didn't break underneath his grief, something sharp about his sorrow instead, like jagged edges of glass lying abandoned next to a broken mirror, seven years of bad luck bleeding in his hands. When Dante breathed out, all pieces of vulnerability were gone, instead replaced by an anger he had grown all too familiar with.

"Keep my sister's name out of your mouth," he said, voice not rising in volume, but loud nonetheless.

"I didn't mention her name though, did I?" Nathan smiled," but I can. What was it again, Elo -"