Syn

When Paris called, I almost didn't answer. I thought he was going to continue with his line of rapid-fire questions and I didn't necessarily have time for it. I was in the middle of doctoring disappearances for the hospital staff Queen killed. It would be oh so easy to just dispose of the bodies and forget about it, but I couldn't risk one of their family members figuring shit out and going on some revenge quest.

That meant going through cell phone messages, emails, social media, any online forums they were on...

As far as anyone was concerned, two of the doctors had gone abroad on Earth forevermore—to their dream locations, of course. It was crazy how much you could learn about a person from their camera roll.

The young man whom Queen almost spared was the easiest. He had no immediate family that would search for him. He grew up in foster care and after Mario's deep dive of his digital footprint and a glance at his prescription pad, we realized that the man was no saint. By far.

He was writing out prescription roofies in the names of women he'd had...encounters with. Their pictures filled the locked files in his cell phone. Some awake, some not.

He deserved what he got. I only wondered how Queen read him so easily.

I dropped everything the moment he told me she was crying.

There was something so soul-crushing and gut-wrenching in hearing that. Seeing it was even worse.

Just past the door of the restroom, I could hear Paris trying yet failing to console her. "Do you want me to call Syn?" I heard him ask her.

"No, please don't," she begged him and something in my chest twisted at the sound of her broken voice and I stepped in. "I don't want him—"

That's too bad.

"Paris," I called, my jaw clenching as I caught a glimpse of her. Hold it together. I glanced down at the floor and took a breath. I was thankful that he'd been here to call me, but fuck if it didn't kill me knowing he'd probably seen her naked. If it were another man, blood would've been spilled, but he hadn't ever given me a reason to distrust him. When he stood up and walked out of the shower, I saw a glimpse of a towel around her body, and relief flooded through me.

Then guilt followed...

I was a fucking bastard.

He walked toward me, sending a concerned look at the shower before facing me. His clothes were soaked. "That water was freezing, Syn." Fuck. "And people only do that to themselves when they're trying to punish themselves for something."

I knew that much.

I gave him a nod. "I'll take care of it. Leave."

He nodded and left without another word and I closed the door behind him, my mind racing with how to best approach this. I didn't want to overwhelm her. Not anymore...she had already gone through so much. I could just hear the sobs she was holding back from the moment I walked into the room.

Before I knew what I was doing, I unbuttoned my shirt and kicked off my shoes and socks. I left my pants on.

I walked over to the shower door as it opened and her eyes flicked up to mine before she looked away. She wanted to leave. As far as I was concerned, she didn't have to speak to me or even look at me, but I wasn't letting her out of my sight. Whatever her mouth and eyes wouldn't tell me, the rest of her would. Slowly. But I was fine with putting two and two together until she was ready.

"Weren't you going to shower?" I asked her, grabbing the shower door and she dropped her hand. She nodded, her fingers moving to her eyes and I tensed. I wanted to hold her, but this was the most fragile I had ever seen her. "Why are you trying to leave then?" I asked, stepping inside. She took the same step away from me and I ignored it, taking the towel from around her body and tossing it aside.

She was quiet as I turned the shower back on—this time back to the appropriate temperature. And then she was even quieter when I cleaned her.

I started at her arms. When my eyes landed on faint scars, my temper flared and I stilled. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, who did this...but then I saw them on her wrists too. The angle, the blade precision on the scars on her left wrist...she was right-handed. I looked at the ones on her right arm, half-heartedly lathering her arm with soap and saw the same scars. Messier, the lines not as clean. Only cuts that can be made from the hand that wasn't dominant.

It didn't take me long to realize they were self-inflicted.

And none of them were recent. They were mostly faded and if it were anyone but me looking, they would've missed it.

My mind was reeling, confusion lacing every ounce of the restraint I used to hold back my tongue. Now wasn't the time to ask no matter how desperately I wanted to know. I almost wondered if they had been here all along and I just somehow missed them, but that was even more unlikely than them magically appearing out of nowhere. I knew every inch of her. And make-up was another poor excuse but again, I knew every inch of her. I'd seen her in every state, every light, everywhere. Every way.

There was no way.

I crouched down to get her legs when I saw a couple on her thighs and I let out a shuddered breath. I was going to lose my mind, I was sure. But then hearing her stifled sob gave me every ounce of strength that I needed to hold on. Patience.

I continued cleaning her until all that remained was my urge to just see her and I washed her off. I could feel the relief floating off of her at the thought of almost being done- at the thought of almost being able to escape me. Not yet, Princess. She was tense, only moments away from breaking down again and I knew this time would be the one to end all the others. I needed to be here.

"Turn to me," I said from behind her and she obeyed. I took a step forward, only to reach for the shampoo bottle and she put a hand up to my torso to stop me. I'm only getting the shampoo, woman. I let out a deep exhale and proceeded to grab it. Then I gave her the tiny bit of distance she had before, but her hand remained on me.

Maybe it was just because she needed to touch me, I thought for a moment. There were times like that when I felt like my mind was floating to places I wished it wouldn't, I'd fight desperately to hold on to the string that tethered my sanity. But sometimes my strength alone wasn't enough. That was when I'd reach out and touch or hold any part of her—even just touching her hair was enough to keep me here.

Maybe that's what this was.

Yes.

I preferred that explanation to the other one.

She couldn't be afraid of me. That was too big of a stretch for me to consider.

I poured the shampoo into my hand and set it down before moving my fingers to her head. I rubbed circled into her scalp, my eyes on her face. She was biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes stuck on my chest as tears fell down her face. This was better. If she was going to cry it was better she did it in front of me instead of using the shower stream as a disguise.

She sniffled and took a look up at me for the briefest second. When our eyes connected, as broken as she looked, everything was right in the universe. The balance in the cosmos had been restored.

Then she looked away, sending my world tilting on its axis once again.

I looked at her hair and continued washing it. I had to focus on something else. Her soft curls tangled around my fingers and I massaged the shampoo into her head. I could feel her eyes on me here and there and it took everything in me not to look back at her. When I'd finally managed to get a grip on myself for her sake, I heard her break out into a sob and I froze.

What did I do?

I immediately cleaned off my hands with the water behind her and brought my hands to her face. Enough was enough. I held her cheeks, wiping the stray tears away and she shook her head, trying to push me away. That wasn't going to happen. The moment she broke down like that...there was no going back to pretending like it didn't happen.

She met my gaze, her brown eyes brimming and glistening with unshed tears. "I..." she began before taking a couple of breaths.

I felt a tick in my jaw. "You..." You what?! I wanted to scream. Spit it out, please!!! I could almost feel my hands start to shake.

"I'm not feeling good," she stuttered and the saddest most achingly understanding smile reached my lips. Clearly not, Princess. But I didn't understand what I could do to make it better. It was times like this when I wished she was brave enough to just tell me what to do- what she needed. Because I could try to guess all day, but what good would that do if I never got it?

What do I do?

Then she continued. "And I'm not feeling secure at all in anything right now."

What? Her breathing became stuttered for the briefest second and my chest ached. I'd never felt so helpless before, but that was something I felt with her often. I hated that I didn't understand things like this. It was frustrating and painful beyond comprehension.

Say more, I wanted to beg her.

She could scream for me to leave and that would be fine. I just needed something from her so that I could know what to do.

When her mouth opened again, it was like my prayers were answered and I listened intently.

"And I-" she stuttered, "I need you to tell me you love me." The entire weight of the world pushed off and away from my body and relief flooded me. Thank fuck. Because I never would've gotten that if she didn't tell me. She added a shattered please, to the end of it and I was done.

"You never have to say please, Princess."

———

I wiped my hair with the towel before resting it on my shoulders and watching her. She sat behind the vanity, detangling the bottom of her wet hair with a comb. Her movements were soft, sniffles leaving her every so often. I hated seeing her so defeated, but she hadn't said anything to me yet about what exactly had happened.

She shifted from her seated position on the chair and her robe rode up her thigh. When my eyes fell on her exposed skin, she adjusted it and cleared her throat. "Why did you wear pants in the shower?" She asked me through the mirror, looking at my soaked pants and then at me.

I leaned off of the wall and moved beside her. I kept my eyes on myself in the mirror and continued drying my hair. I could feel her eyes on me, waiting for an explanation and I glanced at her.

"Should I have walked in naked?" I asked her.

She glanced away from me and continued with her hair. "It's a shower...that's what people do."

"True." I sighed, running a hand through my wet hair to try to get it somewhat in shape. "But I didn't want you to think I was trying to fuck you. This was the best way I could make that clear."

I saw her stop moving in my peripheral and I turned to see her looking at me, an expression I couldn't read on her face. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

Nothing. I hated that shit when It was so obviously something—

"Well," she spoke up, looking back at her reflection and I raised a curious brow. "It's just...that's— that was thoughtful. Thank you."

"Huh." I stood up straight and moved the towel around my neck. "Who are you and what have you done with my girl?"

That was twice now.

If there was a third time, I was going to flip. She was making getting answers out of her much easier than usual. I loved it, but it was definitely out of character. Along with everything else that was happening today, I was getting a bit worried.

She tilted her head up at me and smiled a bit. "I'm not your girl still?"

I wanted to keep the joke up a bit as it was a genuine wonder, but my insides became all fucking warm and disgusting when she said that and looked up at me like that. I smiled at her and touched her cheek. "You'll always be."

"Promise?" She held out her pinky finger and narrowed her eyes at me.

I laughed, hooking mine with hers. "I promise."

"Good." She rose from the chair, our fingers still locked. "Because there are some things I should tell you."

Ah. I nodded slowly. "Generally, that should come before making me promise you something like that," I whispered. "Otherwise I might think you're trying to trap me."

"If I could, I would."

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