Dalaric "Ricky" Mikael was known for two things; being the country's best assassin and being a silent brute.
His demons enveloped him in darkness and he saw no light at the end of any tunnel.
Until a girl, who's weird and wears nothing but a pair of...
"A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmareto the jeweled vision of a life started anew."
- Aberjhani
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Journey through the Power of the Rainbow: Quotations from a Life Made Out of Poetry.
"Oh, did I tell you about my new ring? My boyfriend gave it to me. Yup, I've got a man. And he's perfect. He's strong too because he can lift seven jars of peanut butter in one go. He can also do two hundred push-ups but that's alright I guess. I love him. A lot. Like a loooooooot. Isn't it a pretty ring? Lookie. Why are you not looking?" My ecstatic rant dies down with a pout when he doesn't look.
"Cus' I got it for you, Mayella."
Dalaric continues to text Raf as I sit in between his open legs. One of his arms is around my shoulders and the other is frantically typing away, reprimanding Rafael for not doing the paperwork. He's slouched over me, using my head to rest his chin. I feel like a table.
Table Maya. Hehe.
"Hey, I'm sorry for waking you up so early," I mutter, my mind clouded with guilt at how frequently this happens.
"I don't know why they've started again. I was doing just fine." I had a nightmare again. And I'm too scared to even remember what it was about.
I thought I made amends with not seeing her anytime soon, but I guess not. Dalaric stayed up with me from four in the morning and hugged me tight, making sure I stopped shaking. I start humming the tune to Mr. Brightside while absentmindedly drawing shapes on Dalaric's hand.
"Turn." He says, in his 'I'm going to set you straight' tone.
I look at Mr. Jones Jr. for help, but he only hides behind his father and shakes his head. Maybe I should've put you in the guest room too...
Dalaric squishes my face until my lips are puckered like a fish. "I care. Understood?" My bobblehead nods and I try to smile adoringly but the squishing doesn't stop.
He pulls me closer to rest his forehead on my head, a hesitant and cautious look in his beautiful eyes.
"What do you feel bout' therapy?"
Oh. Do I need therapy? That's a bummer. I know it'll help, though. Just like it helped my Dalaric. But anger issues are not the same thing as trauma. He's doing so well. I'm so proud.
"I've thought about it but I don't um- It's scary." I mutter almost ashamedly. I don't want to revisit all the memories again. I also don't want homework.
"Try it?" I study his face, seeing nothing but genuine concern. I did want to try it when we were at the hospital. The nurse recommended it but I felt uneasy. Maybe it'll be different now.
