Acacia
★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★
I apologize ahead of time because frankly, this is likely the worst post I've ever written and I'm so sorry. Why are Acacia's posts always the ones that suck the most omg. But seriously, I'm sorry. I'm just too tired to do anything about it.
I'm not even kidding. Like skim it barely. For your own safety. It's pretty wretched. And awkward. And a -5 on a scale of 1 to 10, one being dirt. Like gross dirt. Like the dirt that you don't know if it's actually dirt or if it's cow manure. So I'm really sorry, but I'll make it up to you guys. I promise. [What I like to think are] good things are coming your way. :D
★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★
I hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.
Vrai, I’d heard horror stories in passing from many a whispering woman in paris, but to experience it myself? No words would suffice. I could scarcely accept that it’d happened, let alone try to describe it. And never would I wish to.
As I lay stiff atop an ocean of wrinkled blankets, my heart continued to race, providing the only music for my weary body and soul. I hadn’t calmed down. At the moment, I didn’t believe I ever would.
Strain was one thing. I could handle exertion. I could recover from exercise or training. This was more than that. It was unyielding pressure and unwelcome agony.
And I’d never admit to Dante that... that I’d never experienced anything of the sort. If I said a word, he’d only laugh. I knew it. From my perspective, I’d put up a convincing front, and he hadn’t done anything to acknowledge it.
A soft sigh reached my ears. Dante had fallen asleep nearly half an hour previously, nether regions hardly concealed by a thin, white sheet and left arm still thrown across my bared stomach. I didn’t dare to move. I’d become immobilized.
It was pathetic.
I hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. And I’d never expected Dante to inflict it.
My entire body was still coated in a fine dew of glistening sweat, and the churning fan above sent a breeze unto me that kissed my skin, making me shiver.
Dante shifted, the sheet slipping. I froze, still and stiff as a board. My muscles were locked; the only movement I allowed was a flicker of my eyes and a quiet swallow. He snored gracelessly on.
Relaxing ever so slightly, I brushed a stray strand of hair off my forehead. The skin there was still tender to the touch from when we’d first bumped heads. It’d been an accident. The following ones? I wasn’t able to make myself believe they were, too.
I couldn’t help but fear he would hurt me. Though he had always been incredibly strong, never had he intentionally harmed me. Non, he was a gentle creature, but I’d seen something in him, something different.
Something that made me afraid.
I was no damsel or delicate flower, but he’d never been so rugeux. I began to wonder what else he was capable of.
I could still feel it. There was the expected pain, the one the women in Paris often spoke of in hushed tones as they travelled in gaggles, but I faced that with little more than a few tears. But there was the brute force of his hands. Often they touched me as if I were fragile pottery, but not that night. No, they were coarse and rough as they grappled my hips, my waist, my wrists, my shoulders, my face. I didn’t doubt I would develop small, purple ovals where the poison in my veins would rush to the surface.
And his teeth... I shuddered to think about where he’d nipped my paper-like skin too hard.
The pain was all very real and very prevalent. And I’d never forget it.
Beside me, Dante rolled onto his side with a gentle coo, draping both his arms over me, trapping me. Though his warmth was welcome, the captivity was not. But I wouldn’t fight against it. I accepted it.
What else could I do?
Licking my dried lips once, I closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to match the beat of Dante’s. It wasn’t easy, but soon enough, I succumbed, hoping that in the night I’d remain still as a statue, just in case.
Kisses like dewdrops
Love like a sin
A tragic game
That no one can win
★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★
I awoke cold and alone.
Startled from a nightmare I immediately forgot, I sat up in bed, clutching the comforter—which I thought had been on the floor—to my throat. A few beams of sunlight slipped through the thick, velvet curtains enough to show me that the room was devoid of life aside from myself. All was silent.
Catching my breath, I slid off the mattress, swaddling myself in the quilted fabric. It seemed to have dropped a few degrees since I fell asleep, but perhaps my body had finally cooled down.
Regardless, it was due time for a long, hot shower, so I indulged a bit. I spent far too long scrubbing myself, finding exactly where each budding bruise was forming in the process. By the time I’d finished, my skin felt raw, and the cold no longer felt like an issue.
I left the bathroom in just a towel, but it didn’t matter. The rest of the room was still empty. No note. Nothing. There was no indication of anyone ever being there beside myself. I didn’t know how to feel about it.
But there was pas de sens in dwelling on it. I quickly dressed in a simple outfit—a pair of skin-tight jeans and an oversized sweater—and swallowed a pigment pill before heading out the room where I nearly ran straight into a drowsy Ela.
“Désolée, Ela,” I hurried to say, closing my door hastily. She squinted at me, one hand on her stomach.
“S’okay,” she murmured, shaking her head. With a slight groan, she cracked her neck. “Why are you so... perky?”
I paused, pursing my lips. “You mean not hungover?” She only glared. “Alcohol has no effect on me, and I cannot ingest a lot.”
“Sucks for you.”
Smirking, I crossed my arms loosely over my chest. “From where I am standing, it is you for whom the circumstances suck.”
Was I insane, or did I catch a smile on the Avian’s lips? “Good one. Now, if you don’t mind...”
I stepped aside. “Of course. Bonjour et au revoir.” Waving once, she continued on her way, then paused a few steps later.
“You okay?”
Startled by the sudden inquiry, I dawdled too much before answering. “I... Oui, I am fine. Pourquoi? Why?”
“You’re being nice to me.”
Shit.
Rolling my eyes, I began walking in the other direction. “Goodbye, chicken strips.
“That’s more like it!” she called back, laughing shortly before groaning and pressing onward to God-knows where. With one last comment, she said, “Oh, the club’s headed down for breakfast soon in case you were interested in drinking some water or something.”
I ignored her sass and continued toward the elevator. Perhaps I could find Dante. Or perhaps I could avoid him. I didn’t know where I stood, but I figured I’d come up with something.
By the time I got down there, however, I didn’t need to. Dante was nowhere to be found. I settled at the end of the table with a chilled bottle of water, watching through a haze the introductions that were made with a église sombre named Emery.
“Verpassen, müssen wir diese tabelle klar.” The intrusion was sudden, and until the waiter—for once I’d jumped I’d noticed the bearded man patiently waiting beside me—had interrupted, I hadn’t realized the table had been abandoned.
“Pardon?”
“Sprechen sie Englisch?” I recognized the “English” part, so I nodded. “We need this table cleared. Kindly move along, Miss.”
“Ah, certainly. Excuse me.” Downing my water, I rose. After setting the bottle down on the tabletop, I backed away, turning around once I hit the nearest hallway.
Within a few minutes of aimlessly wandering, I came across the lobby, and deciding I was suddenly too tired to move, I sank into one of the tan, leather chairs that lined the walls. The concierge’s eyes flickered to me once before returning to his amateurly-hidden Männer Aktuell magazine.
Leaning my head back, I stared at the highly-arched ceiling. I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but I thought I fell asleep at some point for a tap on my shoulder sent my flailing.
A pair of bright green eyes met my own. “Acacia? What are you doing?”
I stretched. “Taking a nap, apparently.”
“But why are you out here, alone, in the lobby of all places?” Sebastian persisted.
Sighing, I rose, brushing my hair with my fingers. “I wanted a change of scenery, vas bien?”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Just thought I’d ask.” As he started to walk away, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, I had to stop him.
“Have you seen Dante?”
A strange expression on his face, he turned around. “No. I’d assume he would be with you.”
I shrugged. “We’re not attached, Sebastian. We are both adults, and we both can handle being separated.”
He furrowed his brows before stepping toward me and placing a hand on my shoulder. “I never said you weren’t or you couldn’t.” My nonchalance faltered, and I turned my face away. “Did something happen?”
“No. Nothing. I’m fine. I just need to speak with Dante.” Though he seemed hesitant to accept this, I gave him a stern look. “It’s none of your business, Sebastian.”
Reluctantly, he nodded. “Fine. Good luck, and take it easy. We’ve all had enough stress.”
Far too much.
I followed his lead by fleeing the lobby and taking a long stroll around the first floor. I didn’t have a destination in mind. I only hoped I’d catch Dante.
Naturally, I had no such luck. A few well-dressed children and their martini-sipping mothers passed me by, along with a group of college-age men who barely batted an eye at me. Aside from a few other strays, my journey was alone.
By the time the sun was setting, my nerves were completely on edge, and I’d seen neither hide nor tail or Dante. Was he avoiding me on purpose?
I came across a small alcove in the back of the hotel, beyond which was a screened room and a modest but elaborately-flowered greenhouse. Into the greenhouse I went, kneeling by a small, withering olive tree after grabbing a pale peach watering can and filling it.
“You poor, forgotten thing,” I whispered, pouring out the water in a steady stream. “I’m sorry those humans don’t care enough. I know what it’s like. But I’ll take care of you for as long as I’m here.” A leaf fell off the highest branch, fluttering down to my hand. “Don’t quit yet.”
The door to the greenhouse opened. Immediately, I hid behind the nearest bush adjacent to the olive tree, back facing the door. Soft footfalls followed the weathered path, but they stopped abruptly.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know anyone was in here,” came Dante’s casual voice. It almost upset me how nonchalant he was. “Are you the gardener?”
At a loss for words, I couldn’t speak. Not only was he totally okay with the events of the previous night, but he couldn’t even recognize me. I shook my head.
“No? Do you... tend them regularly?” Again, I shook my head. His feet scuffed the leaves underfoot. “I should leave, shouldn’t I?”
At that, I rose sharply, turning around to face him. His eyes went wide. “Acaci—”
I held up a hand. “Stop.” In a softer voice, I added, “Please.”
“Your forehead...” he murmured, unable to say anything else.
I prodded it gently. “C’est bon. I have worse.”
“What?”
Shaking my head sharply, I folded my arms around myself. “Listen, Dante, we need to talk.”
“Acacia, I need to apolo—”
“Tais-toi et laisse-moi parler pour une fois!” I cried, pausing to take a deep breath. “Sorry. Please, just... let me speak.”
He shook his head. “But I have to tell you—”
“Dante, would you shut up for a moment?”
“I hurt you, and you won’t admit it—”
“I can’t—”
“I was drunk, a-and I...” He blushed, and I faltered. “I couldn’t hold back.”
Tucking some hair behind my ear, I said, “Listen, Dante—”
“Why won’t you let me apologize?”
“Because I didn’t know!”
“What?” he whispered, puzzled.
“Dante...”
His expression grew stern. “What, Acacia?”
“I...”
“Tell me, please.”
“It was my first time!” I blurted, immediately covering my mouth with both hands. Oh, mon dieu, I am an idiot. I was, for once, glad I could not blush.
The silence between us was thick.
“I... I’m sorry?”
“Oh, God, I... I think I’ll go now...”
Covering my face, I tried to rush past him, but he threw out an arm, effectively halting me. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know what to say or do, and oh, lord, I’m sorry,” I blathered. Why don’t you just slap yourself repeatedly in the face, Acacia? I think that might do you better.
His hand cupped my cheek. “Did I hurt you?”
I shrugged. “It’s not import—”
“Don’t make me ask again,” he warned.
“Yes.” His hand dropped as if I’d scalded him. “But, Dante, I—”
He clenched his jaw. “I can’t forgive myself for that, Acacia. So I understand if you hate me now. And if you never want me to speak to you, let alone touch you, again, I understand. Just tell me, please.”
What a moron.
I grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him down to me, kissing him as hard as I dared. “Dante, I love you. Nothing will ever change that. You just... need to get a better handle on your strength is all.” He grimaced. “But you’re très bête to think I would hate you for such a reason.”
“I just...”
“You were wrong.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “Fine. I was wrong.”
“And you better continue saying that, because it’ll happen more and more often.”
Pursing his lips, he shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”
“Well I do.” He wrapped his arm around my waist, placing a gentle hand—the touch I knew so well—over where the bruises were already beginning to fade.
After kissing my hair, he sighed into it. “I promise I will never hurt you again. And if I do, you have my permission to kill me in whatever way you wish.”
“I might have to take you up on that.”
★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★☽★☾★
Yeah. Um. I am sorry.
I am so sorry.
But here's a two minute drawing of "The silence between us was thick."
As in "The Silence between us was thick."
It's 3:13 am. I'm sorry.
