46 3. Expiring Hearts (2/2)

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. ”If he doesn't show up,” he said. ”-I'm leaving.”

”That returns to us,” I said, referring to Maxime and his eyes widened with renewed interest.

”Us?” He caricatured. ”You mean you and your pathetic excuse of a brother?” He smirked, a few hair strands falling over his left eye.

I clenched my fists behind my back and furrowed my eyebrows. He had no right to insult my brother in front of me. He was belittling me and underestimating my reaction.

But being angry wasn't something that came naturally to me, so I decided to take a deep breath and tilt my head.

”You daren't call him that.”

”I shall call him what I see him as, darling.” His voice was strong and confident.

”I'm not your darling.” I scowled and he ignored me.

”And he's not your brother.” I was surprised by the sharpness in his voice and the storms raging under his irises. I almost believed him.

”What do-”

”What kind of brother encourages his sister to get blood on her hands, dammit?” He asked. ”Can you possibly be that naive, Samara?” He, suddenly, sounded so sincere. Suddenly, I felt his eyes reaching out for me, not insulting me.

”He thought you killed his brother!” I said hotly, defending Maxime.

”Well, I'll be goddamned!” His voice was loud and I could see that it took him loads of energy to keep himself from lashing out. And I thought- I never saw Julius angry. ”Why didn't he come and finish me off himself? I bet he'd have the time of his life.” Julius was getting on a point, I couldn't grasp yet.

”Maxime is not a murderer!” I fought back and Julius leaned back, with frozen fury painting his features.

”And you are?” His nose flared and his face reddened from all the rage that built up beneath his skin. I could feel it radiating off him in waves.

”Of course not,” I said defensively. ”I'm not a murderer.”

”Of course you aren't,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. ”But you were a finger pull away from becoming one. Your brother, my love,” he panted. ”-manipulated you.”

I frowned at the nonsense he said. Maxime would never be in the right mind to do this.

”Manipulated me?” I screwed my face. ”How dare you-?”

”Maxime is a murderer, darling,” he said as if proud of this indictment. ”He is no better than me. He might be even worse.”

”And presently, you might be manipulating me!” I found my voice miraculously as I ignored Julius' accusations. He was just blathering.

Julius looked taken aback by my statement before his lips curled into a sneer. ”You know I'd never do that. Samara.”

The sincerity in his voice and eyes caught me off guard and left me wondering if he was even worth listening to.

”I've no way of knowing.” My voice was harsh and I wanted it to be. ”You manipulated me when I was blind. You manipulated my innocence and made me believe that you were someone worth caring for. Forgot already? Didn't know that memory loss came as a side effect of murder.”

Julius looked me in the eyes like I said something he didn't want to hear.”I manipulated you?” His voice was barely a whisper. ”You've no-” He then stopped, closed his eyes, and touched his fingers to his lips. His eyes snapped open and I was surprised to see the stories in them. Stories he immediately decided to hide in the shelves of his bright, emerald irises.

His soft eyes hardened. ”You're right.” He said solidly, his throat moving. ”I manipulated you.” He said and I raised my eyebrows surprisedly. ”You were beautifully naive, and my murderer instincts got automatically activated.” He then locked my eyes. ”Couldn't help it, love.” He smiled.

I grimaced despite my heart nagging me, not believing what he said even when it should've. I realized that Julius was right. I needed to stop being naive.

”So as I was saying,” Julius then continued nonchalantly. ”Maxime is mentally disturbed. He's trying-”

”A psychopath has no right to insult others.” I managed to slip in but he ignored me.

”He's trying to ′replace' you with Leonard.” He emphasized, looking down. ”He's trying to get you to be his partner in crime. Because he's lunatic. He'll only see you as Leonard. I've dealt with his likes-”

”Sounds to me that you're describing yourself-”

He then looked up, his lips parted as I noticed the heavy movement of his bare chest, the tautness in his neck, and his exasperated facial expression. ”You are not listening to me!” He exploded and I almost gasped at the concern that lingered in his features for longer than he'd normally allow. ”Your brother is planning on getting your hands dirty. Because he's psychotic! And I'm scared you'd succumb to his theatrics and pathological lying. And I know you will!”

”I'm not stupid.” I started slowly, suddenly finding myself looking for theories to prove him right.

”You will fall for it.” The intensity in his voice killed me and I wondered why wasn't he getting closer. Why wasn't he allowing himself to shout in my face? Closer to me. ”Just like you did before!”

”That never happened.” I was shaking my head and looking at him like he lost his mind. I was about to laugh at his unnecessary seriousness.

”Oh?” His lips traced the letter 'o' perfectly as he took a step closer. ”So he wasn't the one who manipulated you into abducting me, was he?” His eyes were looking at me differently. He looked at me like he wanted to reveal some dirty, underlying truth. ”He wasn't the one who told you to kiss me, run your fingers in my hair, and walk away, was he?” His voice was low and husky.

And I thought my heart wasn't in its right place. Because I kept feeling it everywhere. In my temples, neck, and ears. And then I realized that my jaw wasn't in its place too. I remembered touching it, trying to find it because there was a problem. I couldn't talk. Then I wondered that -no, maybe my tongue is paralyzed or, no, maybe I've been hit on the head. Because looking in his accusing eyes, I didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say.

”What you did was vile and cruel, Samara.” His voice was low and soft and he was impossibly close despite the considerable distance between us. I could imagine his hot breath next to my ears, on my neck.

I gulped and collected the remaining pieces of my shameful-self from the ground. ”I don't care.”

”You wouldn't do that!” He lost it at those three lying words I uttered. ”If it weren't for your brother, you wouldn't do that. I'd bet my life on it!” His voice was rough and I knew it took him his all, not to yell and crack the walls with his bare fists.

”You don't know me,” was what I said, still drowning in shame.

”You haven't the slightest idea how much I know you.” His voice was suddenly calm and deep. ”And I know you wouldn't have done that because you know-” He stopped to catch my burning eyes. They were burning in shame and guilt. ”-you know, what it means to get your heart broken to smithereens by hope.” He looked tired. Like it was physically painful to spill all those words. And maybe, it was for him.

”I would want to hurt you,” I said nevertheless.

”You keep denying this.” He was breathing hard again. ”Who are you protecting?! Why?” He exploded, shaking his head, more hair strands falling over his eyes. His teeth were bared and his frame shook with rage. I was so shocked to see him capable of showing so much emotion. Even if it was anger.

But he daren't step closer.

”You don't understand, do you?” I found myself saying quietly. ”You're a murderer in my eyes no matter what you do.”

”This isn't about me!” He stressed, cocking back his head as I observed his Adam apples move. I let my eyes trail down his neck to where his sharp collar bones were tucked under his jacket. His dropped head. ”This isn't about me,” he repeated sadly, his eyebrows drawn up and his eyes raw with emotion. ”I'd hate it to see you lose yourself to all this. You don't belong here. You shouldn't be doing this.”

”You think I'm incapable-?”

”Dammit, this isn't about abilities, Samara!” His voice was harsh again and his ocean-green eyes, ice, ice cold. ”This is about a kind of darkness you've never known of. A-A darkness that will consume you the moment you open your arms for it!” He was shaking his head, looking down, trying to explain. ”Ask me about it! I'd know. I'd know so much. I'd know.” His eyebrows were tugged down with concern as he stared into my eyes. He was pleading me to do the impossible. Believe him.

”Of course you'd know,” I grimaced. ”You're a murderer! I know you! I know who you really are!”

His raised eyebrows dropped low as his eyes darkened and narrowed. ”You know nothing about me.” His voice was flat. Lifeless. ”Love, this darkness you seem to be welcoming made me a nothing. A repetitive, dead joke. A good book with no readers. A silent letter.” He was smiling, despite the weight his words carried. I was staring at him say such things so casually and flatly like he'd made terms with it long back. ”You don't know what you're talking about. You'll never know me, love.” He was frowning. ”You shouldn't know me.” He finished with a soft sigh and stepped back.

He looked at me through his hair and I had to gulp back tears that made their way out of their glands. I was crying because he was right. I looked at him and saw blank pages of false love. I knew nothing about him.

”I have to go,” I breathed.

It was just too much for me. Seeing him transform from someone I thought I could always rely on to someone I barely knew. I was seeing him transform into something scary. Something monstrous. And I had to go because I couldn't help the tears over his hopeless case.

Julius' eyes snapped up to mine. They were completely shut off. A dull, empty green. He then nodded slowly with a subtle shrug. ”Go.” He said unwaveringly.

”I will.” I dug my nails in my palms to stop myself from crying. ”I will be back to deliver my condolences over your dead father.”

He looked at me, expressionless before shrugging again. ”He will not come.”

I remember pressing a fake smile. Nothing moved in him. Not an eyebrow. He didn't even blink as he stared more at me. And I couldn't read him no matter what. I couldn't read his posture. His eyes. Or face. He was just staring at me.

Maybe I'd finally pushed him to his wits' ends.

I walked past him, toward the door, feeling his unfaltering gaze on my back.

”Cinderella.”

My heart skipped a whisperous beat at his voice and I turned to face him again. He was holding the previous day's red pumps by their heels, in both his hands, in front of his chest. He was looking at them before he slowly averted his gaze to me and my heart galloped in my chest.

I looked at the pumps, then back at his emeralds with parted lips before hesitantly making my way to him with clenched fists. He was watching me approach him, his eyes trained all over my body. I felt my knees weaken as the distance decreased. When I was close enough, I dropped my gaze to the pumps.

I held them from the front part -the top line- and was about to pull them away when I felt him tighten his hold around the heels. He wasn't letting go. I looked at him and was on the verge of panicking at his proximity.

I just had to breathe. So I did as his eyes locked mine in place. ”I will not allow your stubbornness to be the reason you lose yourself.” His voice was uneven with the emotion it tried concealing. ”Do you follow me?” He then pulled the heels toward himself with so much force, I staggered toward him. I had to close my eyes to steady myself.

He caught my eyes and I held my breath. ”Because if you do, if you lose yourself, I swear to you and all the blazing stars in the universe, I will not stop at anything to watch Maxime bleed to death.” His voice carried so much venom and hatred, I almost felt sick. He licked his lower lip quickly. ”Your brother's life is in the palm of your hands.” His face inched closer to mine and I couldn't help but watch his wet lips whisper those words.

He then let go of the heels and I stood staring at him dumbly. He looked satisfied with himself as he took several steps away from me.

”Come on, Cinderella.” He mocked, waving a hand in front of him. ”Maxime's waiting to be impressed. So go, be a good doll and carry his gun in your little pocket. Be a good sissy and fulfil his wishes.” I felt my heart plummet relentlessly to the depths of my soul. ”All...of course,” he added with a smile playing on his lips that his fingers brushed. ”-in the name of Leonard's departed soul.” He then shoved his hands in his pants' pockets.

I heard myself inhale sharply at his choice of words. I blinked rapidly, tightened my hold around my heels, did not say a thing, turned around, and walked out with the little dignity I had left.