Pretty and Painful

I believe you

BLAQUE -

"At the bar," I blurted. I know he thinks that I'm lying because I didn't say which bar I was at.

He squeezed my neck. "I am giving you a last chance to speak, little one. Remember that it won't end well if you lie to me."

"I am not lying, and who are you to give me a chance?" I snapped. Who was he? My father? Being such an arrogant asshole.

He dropped his hands from my neck and waist and stepped back. I looked at him and saw red stains on his shirt. Was that blood? Did he kill someone?

"Is that blood?" My eyes widened.

"Yes"

"Did you kill somebody?" I asked hesitantly, not knowing what to do. I know what comes with being the wife of a mafia man, but the blood started triggering painful memories from the past, which I didn't want to resurface.

"Yes"

"Why?" I quivered.

"Because he lied to me just like you're doing now," he said, tilting his head.

My hands and legs started shaking due to the flashback of horrors from the past, and I stood frozen. Their bodies lying in the pool of blood that covered the floor. My vision started to blur with tears, and my chest felt constricted, and it was getting difficult for me to breathe.

"What is happening?" Heath asked, his voice full of concern.

"I can't—I can't—breathe," my voice broke while gasping for air to breathe.

"Look into my eyes," he ordered.

"Heath, I can't," I cried.

"Little one, look up," he said calmly.

I averted my gaze from the bloodstains and looked into his eyes. They were green and worried. His hands came to my shoulder as a gesture to comfort me.

"Listen to me carefully, little one. Name any five things you can see around us." He subtly asked.

It took a while for me to register what he was saying, but somehow I managed to answer, "Bl-Blood."

Somehow he got the memo that blood on his shirt triggered something in me, so in one swift motion, he took off his shirt, threw it on the floor, and said, "Little one, what else do you see?"

I tried my best to focus on what he was saying and looked around: "Couch, Win-Window, Kitchen, Ta-Table."

"Very Good. Now name any four things you can touch," he said.

"Wall, your han-hand, your f-face, your h-hair"

"Excellent; you're doing good, little one. Now name any three things you can hear," he said.

"W-Wind, Watch, Y-You"

"Any two things you can smell?" he asked.

"Alcohol, your perfume."

"And an emotion that you can feel right now."

"P-Panic" and relief. My breaths have become normal, and my chest no longer feels suffocating, but my body feels heavy. I inhaled a long breath to calm my nerves, which hiked a few miles. As I exhaled, I saw green, piercing eyes gazing into my hazel eyes, noticing me. I know he wants an answer about what just happened to me, but I don't know if I'll be able to explain it to him. We both come from a world where emotions have no value, so I don't know if I would be able to make him understand.