Page 9 of A Harmony of Procellarum

Ashouthasmebolting up from my sleep and groaning when my neck aches from the position I was in on the chair. I massage my fingers into my throbbing muscles as I look around the room groggily. Everything comes rushing back in stunning clarity as Torrent lets out another yell from his place on the bed.

This asshole took me from my home and handed me over to devil worshippers without a single regard for my life. So I stand and walk over to the bed, my mouth itching to smile at the discomfort he’s clearly in as his legs thrash against the mattress. He whimpers as if in pain, and a shot of guilt hits me at the sound. It’s exactly what Squall used to do when he would fall asleep beside me. I can sense the same desperation emanating from Torrent’s very pores. I know they were abused inside of that orphanage, but for all of them to have this level of PTSD after all these years tells me it was atrocious.

As much as I’m reveling in his pain, my heart begins to take over the anger and I feel sympathy for the child who endured years of terror. I reach out to touch his shoulder, my hand shaking as I near. It’s like approaching a wild animal. It’ll either accept the touch or strike.

Flight or fight.

Just as my fingertips touch his sweater, he lets out a loud gasp and his eyes snap open as his brows come together. He’s quick, quicker than I am when he grabs my hand and yanks me down to the bed. My back hits the mattress in seconds and he’s on top of me with a knife to my throat.

“They letyouhave a weapon?” I gape up at him in surprise. “Do they really not care if we survive?”

The fog clouding his eyes clears as he wakes up completely, his brows relaxing as he takes me in under him. His mouth tips down as he slowly rises and shuts the switchblade before stuffing it back in his pocket.

“It makes no difference whether I have a knife or a gun or nothing at all. I am a weapon.” His voice sounds anguished, as if he’s still living inside his dream, unable to remove the veil of unconsciousness.

“I can’t imagine everything you guys went through in that place,” I begin as I push myself up to my elbows to peer at his dropped head and slumped shoulders. “But I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.” I can’t believe I’m even saying this.

“Did he talk to you about what happened there?” he asks quietly, his voice so soft I can barely detect the tone.

“A little. Or not much at all. Just that it was horrible and what pushed you four to change your beliefs.” I slowly rise from the bed as I make my way to the end to sit beside the man who once tried to kill me. Someone who would try again if given the chance.

“Tell me about your relationship with him.” He looks up at me then and I wince at the pain radiating from his eyes. “Tell me how he is with you.”

If I ever had a doubt that Torrent and Squall had a relationship before now, it’s easily squashed by the heartbreak staring back at me.

“He’s mean,” I huff as I link my hands together and rest them on my knees. “He’s always had this edge to him, a dangerous side I was always flirting with. When we were,”—I look up at him and see genuine curiosity—“together, he would say the most terrible things. Call me the worst names and Ilovedit.”

A dark chuckle escapes his lips as he listens intently, his eyes never wavering from my face. “What else?”

“There wasn’t a lot of time to explore anything of meaning,” I stumble over my words, and even I can hear the lies in them.

“Yes, you did,” he retorts. “He was willing to die for you.”

“Look, we felt things.” I press my hand to my chest. “But I’m not lying when I say we didn’t speak of it. I knew where his limits were, and back then I was living in agony, wondering why he didn’t want to be with me.” I give him a slow once-over. “Now I know why.”

“Does that make you angrier?” he asks, his mouth tipping upward. “The fact that I had him before you did. That I still have him?”

“Shut up, Torrent.” My hands curl into fists as I move away from him. “You truly are evil.”

“Here,” he says as he tosses me his knife. “Go ahead. Kill me.”

“I’m not a killer!” I exclaim as I scramble off the bed. “I’m nothing like you!”

Torrent gets to his feet slowly as he stalks after my backward stumbling. I hit the wall at my back, but he doesn’t stop, keeps right on coming until he’s directly in front of me, his chest brushing mine. His hand skims up my arm, the touch almost reverent feeling, although it’s nothing but a ruse. Torrent is an apex predator who clearly likes to play with his prey.

“We’re nothing alike,” he hums, his hand now gliding along my shoulder. “That’s why I’m trying to figure out exactly what it was about you that caught his attention.” His hand brushes against the column of my throat as he bends to look me in the eye. “Because, stripper, I can’t tell if it’s the loose pussy he likes, or the fact this body,”—he looks down at me—“can take a beating.”

His fingers tighten around my throat as I pant through my distress, trying to grasp onto any bravery I have lingering inside of me. When I hit a bottomless well of fear, his eyes finally glide back to mine with cunning prowess.

“Stop!” I choke out as Torrent’s fingers tighten further, making my lungs scream for air.

“Stop,” he whines in a mocking voice, then finally releases me. “I already know what he sees in you, Tiny, and I agree. It’s something I could never give him.”

Even though I’m heaving for breath, I look at him and raise my chin. “Go ahead, Torrent,” I suck in air. “Tell me what it is he sees.”

“You probably remind him of his no-good mother. The bitch who left him on the orphanage’s doorstep so she could go off and be a whore without having to take care of him.” His face becomes one of mocking despair. “That’s why when he fucks you, he calls you filthy names, because all he can see is her.”

“That’s not true.” I shake my head as he takes a step back, his snake-like tongue coming out to slip along his bottom lip.

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