All that is dark | ✓

14| calm

SHE'D ALWAYS BEEN SMART, but none of her cleverness had ever helped her in making a good decision. There was a chance she'd never do the right thing and there was a chance she'd never know, but at least she was happy now. Her nights weren't spent swirling pills in her coffee, running from memories she never wanted to remember. No, her demons had caught up to her and after days of being locked up with them, she wasn't scared of them anymore. What could they say to hurt her that she already hadn't heard a thousand times over?

Perhaps that was why she was fine with being a monster now. Nothing scared her these days like herself.

When she woke at the break of dawn, she could hear Nathan breathing softly beside her. He always was woken easily, even if he pretended not to be, but it didn't really surprise her. Only those with unblemished hearts or those who wanted to forget slept well. Nathan always found ways to let himself remember. Helene didn't know whether that was a kindness he granted himself or barely disguised cruelty. Either way, it had kept them both from finding any peace for a long time now.

"You still can't sleep well," Nathan spoke, opening his eyes to look at her.

"My insomnia comes in waves," she said," sometimes I drown in it, sometimes it disappears for days. You always seem to calm me though, no matter how bad it gets. Why do you think that is?"

"Because I'm a nightmare you're experiencing with eyes wide open?" he said, flashing her a wolfish grin.

"Or a dream," she smiled, leaning forward towards him as she caressed his face," I can't quite tell the difference."

He mirrored her expression, closing his eyes for a moment as if he was basking in her warmth. When he opened them again, she couldn't help but stare at the way golden light of the rising sun filtered through the shadows of his eyes, coloring his irises copper. There was terror in beauty, but all she could be was starstruck at the sight of him, like she was watching a character from an ancient tragedy in front of her, doomed and blissfully unaware of it.

"You're analyzing me," he noted," you never stop doing that, do you?"

"I learned it early on," she said, lowering her gaze almost shamefully," it's a habit I can't seem to shake. It's no wonder people always disliked my company. I would too if someone was judging me constantly."

"Are you?" he said, stretching out lazily," judging me, I mean."

She hesitated, before shaking her head. "No, I've never been. I had to analyze people to survive, to know when my mother would raise her hand or when my father would snarl. Only when I anticipate what people will do I get hurt less by them."

"Have you anticipated what I'm going to do?" he said curiously," tell me, who am I, Helene?"

She locked his face in between her hands, leaning over him as she watched him, hair spilling down like sunlight beside her. Did she know who he was? Did he even know himself? He always had proclaimed himself a monster, but she didn't believe he was. A monster wouldn't have hands this gentle or whisper words this warm. She wasn't so foolish as to believe love could change him, but the way she viewed him had changed. Her gaze was colored with roses now, two hundred and twenty-two of them.

"My world," she said.

He stared at her in surprise, before a sincere laugh tumbled down his lips. When he placed his hand on the small of her back to pull her closer, she let herself fall on his chest, the soft thudding of his heart calming to hear. If he was a monster, he was her monster. Of course she'd forgive him for kidnapping her, especially when she had lived with people who had done much worse to her for years. Even if he killed her, she'd whisper him a confession of love at her grave. No matter what had happened for them to end up together, he had been kind to her. That, more than anything, was a rarity she had never experienced to this extent. It was so foreign to her that if he'd look at her this warmly one more time, she'd have to swallow back the tears.