52 - Nightmares

"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet."

― Plato

. . .

ASHTON CREED

"Same bookstore?" Michael asked.

I nodded, getting out of the car. The wind was wild as we walked inside the empty warehouse. Zavier and Xerxes stepped out, too.

She was in the middle, bound to the chair. Her eyes narrowed at us.

"Hello, Miss Candella." I grabbed a chair and put it in front of her, sitting down.

Her eyes moved from me to Zavier and then Xerxes, recognition flashing in them.

Strange. She had not recognized me in the bookstore.

"We have a few questions to ask you," Xerxes said, walking closer. "You answer truthfully, we let you walk away."

"You lie you die." Zavier shrugged.

"I'm not answering," Rose said, her voice wavering. Fear was clear in her eyes. She had a million tell.

"Allow me to motivate you." Michael took a knife out of his pocket. He walked to behind her and grasped her hair in his hand, bringing the knife close to her throat.

I smiled. "Let's chat."

. . .

"That was interesting," I muttered as I watched Michael put Rose into the car. "She didn't know."

"It was frustrating, you mean," Zavier said. "He will try to get her."

"Or maybe she doesn't mean shit to him," Xerxes said. "Two weeks, that's how long Michael will keep her. Then we'll send her back."

"Alright." I shrugged.

We entered the mansion at about six in the morning. Olivia was sleeping in her room. I had taken the plug out because she kept fussing. She'd have to get used to it sooner or later.

I took off my coat, throwing it at the couch. I was still a little not used to living here, at the mansion. We normally let our soldiers' families stay here if there was a danger to them. We rarely ever stayed. We used to like staying at the penthouse more but now that Olivia was here, I didn't want to like anywhere else and she deserved to live in a mansion.

"I'm going to go pack books for her," Zavier said, smirking, as he climbed the staircase.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Crazy fucker."

Xerxes walked away, probably to the gym or to his piano, which originally belonged to mom. I was shit at instruments, I normally needed up taking their parts apart and studying the inside.

I had once did that to my father's car. I still had scars from that day.

Your brain, Ashton, is worth a lot more than your cruelty. She had whispered those words to me while tending to my wounds. I remembered the tears on her face but she had smiled for me and that made me better. My mother, she was always kind. Yet she got stuck with a monster.

I wondered if that was what was happening with Olivia. But we were good to her, as good as we could be. She wouldn't leave and we'd never give her a reason to.

I sat down on the couch, putting my feet on the table and relaxing. Before I knew it I was sleeping.

. . .

"A small cut." His whisper echoed in the cell. "A small cut and he'll be dead."

I looked down at the child in front of me. He could be no older than seven.

"Do it," he said, he was walking around us. There was a dagger in my hand. The kid was lying beaten on the ground. I didn't know his name. He had said that the kid was a maid's son. He loved stories and princesses. He had told me so much shit about the kid and then thrown him in front of me, ordering me to kill him.

"I-I can't." I couldn't. I would kill myself. I couldn't do this.

He stopped beside the child and shrugged. "Alright. I can do it for you."

I watched with wide eyes, almost dazed, as he bent down to grab the kid's hair and slashed his knife at the neck. Blood poured out. The kid choke on his own blood. It dripped down.

Tip. Tip. Tip.

The sound felt like a scream to my ears.

"Go to your twin's cell," he commanded. "You know what to do." I did.

I walked to Zavier cell. He was sitting in the corner.

He looked up at me and then the dagger in my hand. Fear flashed in his eyes but he just nodded. He stood up and sat down on the chair between the cell.

I walked towards him, hands trembling.

"I-I couldn't kill him, Zavier," I whispered.

He didn't look at me. "I know." He did. He had not been able to kid Igor had wanted him to kill. I had wounds to prove it.

I dug my knife into Zavier's arm. He groaned. I had learned that trying to hurt less ended up with him hurting more.

. . .

I woke up gasping for breath. Soft hands were on my face, wide brown eyes looking at me worriedly.

"Ashton? Are you okay?"

"I-I..." I shook my head, my eyes clenching shut. How did I fall asleep here? I should have been in my fucking room.

I got off the couch, making her drop her hands from my face. "I'm okay." I walked away before she could say anything.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

I nodded, not bothering to answer. After yesterday she must need closeness but I could feel myself getting closer to losing my head. I texted Zavier to get to Olivia and walked to the basement.

Nightmares. I didn't hate anything more than them. I hated them more than I hated what had happened because they refused to stop. I was a man who valued his mind, losing it was not a good experience.

And I didn't want to lose it when Olivia was around.

A man was on the chair, bound to it. Some Russian I had not bothered to know the name off. We had all the information we needed from him so he was just here till Zavier decided to take him to the maze.

I closed the door.

He looked at me with fear in his eyes. I had been here yesterday, too. He was barely healed.

I smiled, walking to the table which had all of the tools I liked to use. "Let's begin again, shall we?"

. . .