Page 24 of Your Soul Is Ours

He chuckles softly, “Yeah. Seems lame, I know, but I ran over a list of normal nicknames and nothing suited you.”

“You should think of me as a wren instead,” I tell him.

“I’m not going to call you a wren.” His face contorts, and I laugh.

“It’s a symbol of both life and death across the world.” I turn my head to gauge his reaction.

He shakes his head. “Still not going to call you my little wren, but I do vow to love you in life and in death. No matter what happens, I promise to find you in the next life and love you with the same intensity that I do now.”

I smirk. Hope is a terrible feeling, and it swells in my chest, threatening to break my ribs because his mouth tells me such beautiful lies. I'm not worthy of that much love. My eyes burn, and a yawn escapes me.

“Now, can we go to bed?”

I nod. “I’m sorry for keeping you up.”

He slaps my ass as I crawl back through the window. “You don’t get to keep saying sorry. I don’t know if it’s the Canadian ingrained in you, but I don’t need your apologies.”

As we lay in bed, I look in his direction. “The pain didn’t go away after she was gone.” His fingertips crawl over my shoulder, dancing their way down the column of my neck.

“I know. It did at first, though, right?”

“Yeah, when we first did it, that night I felt high. It was exhilarating. The drop-off was steep, and I should have anticipated it. It’s not like I could talk about it with anyone. No one is going to understand that I killed my mother and fuck, did it feel good. I’m still glad she’s dead but my pain is still on the surface, just under the layer of my skin.” His fingers find their way to my hair, playing with the strands which makes me relax next to him.

“I have to cut your hair again. We can do that tomorrow. I bought you something, but I left it downstairs. Remind me.Marla I know the pain is still grasping you. The demons grip you. But patience is my style, it’s kinda my thing, they don’t understand that I’ll hold on to you tighter, that I’ll do whatever it takes to rip you from their claws.”

I move closer to him, my head pressed into his chest. His manly citrus cologne fills my nose and he rests his head on mine. “I hope you keep me from them. My soul needs peace, but if it can’t have that, I’ll settle for whatever I can enjoy here on earth.”

We sit at his kitchen table. The chairs are old but sturdy. The wallpaper is faded on the walls, some parts are peeling. “Did you get your father’s house and never decide to decorate?”

He looks around, the trim around the doors is scratched up, the floors are linoleum and the colours in each room are vintage as hell. “Pretty much. Does it look like I know how to decorate?”

“Your tattoos all fit. Just figured you’d be fantastic at decorating.” His face breaks into a huge smile.

“I can plan a tattoo. I can plan a garden, but give me a room, and ask me what colour curtains go with the wallpaper? Not a clue.” He leaves for a minute and comes back with a towel, a comb, and scissors.

“My salon is open again. Although I don’t have a brush, apparently.” His brows pinch together. He shakes his head and puts the towel around my shoulders. “The usual?” I can only laugh.

“You look like this tough grunge-style dude, and yet you are so lame you make me laugh.”

“Isn’t that why you keep me around? For the laughs?”

I hold the towel around myself and smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

When he’s finished, I go for a shower in his incredibly old bathroom. The tub has claws and at one point was probably gorgeous, but now it’s worn and chipped. The shower curtain goes all the way around the tub and the water pressure isn’t asstrong as in my apartment, but it’s good enough for now. When I get to his room, heated from the shower, I get dressed in capri pants and a long sweater and comb my hair out with my fingers.

“Here, I got these from that oddity shop.” Sebastian startles me, but I turn and grab the box. I pull off the lid and find a pair of earrings. They are made from teeth, canines at some point. The metal design above them is gorgeous.

“These are breathtaking. Thank you so much.” I put them in my ears, crossing the room to the dresser with a mirror, and look at them. The silver catches the light, and I can’t believe he got these. “They must have been expensive?” He shrugs his shoulder.

“Since you don’t have to go to the mental health centre today, what did you want to do?”

“I want to know if we kill the rest of the family if I’ll feel better? Will it help?” He looks at me, and a slow smile creeps across his face.

“It might, but it might not. It’s hard to say, the high might only last for a few days and I don’t want you to crash again. I can’t handle the loss of you.”

I walk to the doorway where he stands and run my hands under his t-shirt to the hard muscles underneath. “They didn’t save me. They think it’s all my fault.”

His hand cups my jaw and he runs his thumb over my cheek. “It still stands. You could have the high and pull away from me. I’m selfish, Marla, I can’t help it.”

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