The Rouges

n i n t e e n

HIS LIPS FIT seamlessly with mine. As my mouth pressed feverishly against his, he reciprocated with a ferocity that made me purr. He wanted me just as I wanted him, maybe even more. As his hands moved against my body, a tingling sensation spread over my skin like wildfire. Every part of my body lit like a struck match. My mind wheeled and my heart ignited. And I felt something for the first time, something other than hate or fear or guilt. I felt alive.

Somehow, we made our way to the bed. Triven was careful to keep me on top, to let me stay in control. While his hands firmly held me, I knew he would stop the second I asked him to. Only I didn't ask.

We lay pressed together, mouths moving in unison until we couldn't breathe. When I finally pulled away, gasping for air, his lips trailed my jaw before resting next to my ear. We laid in silence listening to each other's breathing. Beneath me Triven's heart hammered against his chest.

My lips grazed the cut on his neck and the guilt came back. Carefully I ran my finger over the healing skin. Then surprising myself, I kissed it. Triven's arms closed around me.

"I thought you were going to run." He whispered in my ear. There was pain in his voice, as if the idea hurt him. "When you were standing on the fire escape. There was this look in your eyes and I thought you were going to run."

I pressed my ear to his chest. "I was going to. At least I thought I was going to."

He ran his hand through my hair. "I'm glad you didn't."

I was silent. I was glad I stayed too. Wasn't I?

His fingers sought mine, the pads running over my bruised and raw knuckles. Even his gentle touch stung. I balled them into fists, ashamed of what I had done. He pressed his cheek to my forehead, closing his hand protectively over mine.

"Lyra, what you did... it was—"

"Dishonorable," I cut him off. "I lost control. I felt like... like I lost who I was. When I saw that man on top of Archer, I just snapped. It was like watching my mother... I have never lost control like that. Never. I mean, I have killed people before— I'm not proud of it— but it was always a kill or be killed situation. But tonight... I... I... Then I turned on you." I buried my face in his chest. "Triven I never meant to hurt you. I would never... And my parents, what if Arstid is right? What if they were the cause of your father's death? You should hate me Triven. You should want me to suffer for what they've done. For what I have done. I am not a good person. Why did you save me Triven, why didn't you just let me die in that alley?"

The words began to pour out and I couldn't stop them. They had been eating away at me. He just held me tighter and let me sputter out on my own. Once my breathing calmed he spoke.

"We have all done things we're not proud of. None of us are murderers by nature and no one could ever blame you for what you did. We have grown up in a world filled with hate and violence, and it's bound to seep in eventually. You are not a bad person Lyra; you are a product of the world that raised you. But the pain you feel proves that you are still a good person, that you have held onto your humanity. My father died saving my life, but that is in the past. I can't change it. Even if your parents did set his death in motion, you are not them. You may be a product of your parents, but they're not who you are. Too many people get caught up in the past. If we keep punishing people for what their parents or their ancestors have done, the world as a whole can never move forward. Society will never grow. With time, open wounds only fester, better to let them heal and forgive than to fester with hate."

He was right. A part of me knew he was right, but I still didn't feel worthy of his forgiveness— or of Mouse's trust. Both of these righteous, kind people trusted me, but I barely trusted myself. I had put all of my faith in my parents, but what if I had been wrong to do so? What if they were everything Arstid claimed they were? I was angry at her for poking a hole in the fragile bubble that was my world. I was angry with my parents for leaving me alone here. And I was angry with myself for questioning them and for not questioning them sooner.