Don't Judge A Flower By Its Color

Chapter Fourteen 🌼

He sat on the corner of the king sized bed. His dark locks tied into a tight bun, keeping the hair away from his straight face. There between his brows was an obvious wrinkle as he studied an old photograph.

It shook slightly in his grip revealing it must have been bringing him great stress.

His shoulders rose then fell. He kept to a one, two, three pattern. The stiff posture slowly melting away into somebody more vulnerable.

He turned to where I stood stuck in the doorway with a racing heart. It broke in two at the sight of his red eyes. I almost sunk to my knees and pleaded him to smile.

What had made him look so destroyed?

Did I do this to him?

"I thought you disappeared again," he mumbled to the dark room, "and this time it wouldn't have been his fault but my own for drawing you away."

"Darien," my tiny voice echoed in the same fearful emotion.

He really thought I would leave him. Didn't he understand that he was the only one who had my whole being in the palm of his hand. When he supposedly died, he took me with him.

For so long, I'd been an empty corpse of a girl playing along by the rules people laid out. It wasn't until a kind man in a mask spoke to project seventeen. He saw her as a person and not just an experiment.

At that moment, everything seemed to change. Unknowingly, he was helping me realize I was worth more than taught to believe.

"You deserve answers." He said while setting the photo down and standing up, "ask me anything."

I took a minute to collect myself by asking the easiest question, "did you make sure to maintain a healthy diet?"

A small smile came across his lips. He tried not to laugh but couldn't help it. He found amusement in my honest concern.

"Yes, I'm still not a big fan of tomatoes though."

His nose wrinkled at the thought which made me roll my eyes.

Somethings never do change, I thought while handing him back his trench coat.

He took it back with an eager thanks before throwing it a top of his dresser beside his master bath.

The room may have been quite small yet it was still amazing with the warm carpet and dark walls. It made me wonder what the other rooms around the grand house looked like. His father looked to have good taste.

"When did you first meet Mr. Cresswood?"

Darien sighed and glanced up to the white ceiling, "about four months after the incident. It took only a little research. He was actually a pretty famous chemist back in the day."

"Do you know why he gave you up for adoption?"

"He didn't actually," he shrugged, "my mom did."

"Your mom?"

"Yeah, they had been divorced for few weeks then hooked up at some wedding. She left for Royal City the morning after and when she found out she was pregnant they were already on different paths."

He went into deep thought, relying details about Cresswood. He was a generous man that loved his family. When Darien showed on his doorstep, he accepted him without question.

Cresswood listened to his story and swore to help rescue me. As they searched, they grew closer. They were almost a family.

"We just established a father and son relationship then-," he didn't complete the sentence. His fist clenched tight at his side.

He took a step back, keeping me at a safe distance. The tiny bit of visible weakness was hid behind a facade of a face.

This technique was familiar. It was suppose to keep people at bay. The dull gaze and set straight mouth. No one would assume anything if there wasn't any obvious pain.

I'd never been on the other side before. I didn't know if he wanted me to change the topic or smooth him into telling more.

I lifted an open palm to him.

He rose an eyebrow but seemed to quickly catch on. He took hold of my small hand and stumbled closer. Our bodies only a few inches a part.

I laid my other hand on the spot above his heart.

We stayed in a comfortable silence. He let the protective walls fall as ever so softly his chest touched mine. His nostrils flaring a little.

"Rosalind," he breathed, "you can keep asking more questions."

I shook my head and squeezed the fabric to his tee.

They could wait. I didn't want to hurt him by pleading to know everything. He didn't needed to surfer for my selfishness.

Darien leaned down so we were eye level. He took his hand from me and placed it on my cheek. His thumb tracing my cheekbone.

"Rosalind, you want to know. It's okay to ask," he said gently.

"Is it?" I forced out past my trembling lips.

He nodded before pressing our foreheads together, awaiting to hear the question we both knew was long over due. There was no point in stalling it any longer.

He watched as a flicker of my younger self crept through the seams. She stared up at him, trying to remember how to speak. Words never came easy to her with him in the same room.

"Darien," I stuttered aloud feeling ready to explode, "how are you still alive?"

He stalled the blow up by giving that smile. It was forced but perfect in it's own unique way. His touch grew warm.

"It starts by me awaking in a dark place that had no light." He begun, "there were cries of life yet no visible faces. Each begging for something to drink."

Children screams danced in my ears as the tale grew grim. His tone rough with regret and hurt. He never stopped to pause. It was like he was waiting to tell their story.

Him and the others were kept like animals for awhile. It wasn't until a medium sized man dressed in complete black came into the dark. The man shut the door behind him consuming himself in the pitch darkness.

Gunshots went off. One by one he heard pops and bodies fell to the floor. Darien hit the ground then as an instinct, he pulled an already fallen child over him as he heard them each die.

Those poor souls. They didn't even get to live fulfilled lives. They never got to grow up and prove society what they were capable of...

"It wasn't until a miracle with green pigtails dragged my crimson drenched form out of that horrid place that I realized we made it."

"We made it..?" I whispered over the fear, almost still there with the images in my head.

Darien nodded and held my hollow being tight. The hug brought me back a little but my heart was still rattled. I dug my face deep into his shoulder and offered those who died sorrowful sobbing as an apology.