Never A Saint (COMPLETE)

Ten: Saint Morseti

"Hey Saint." She looked at me and I hummed.

"I know you're my boss, but you seem wise."

"Advice?" I asked.

She nodded and I handed her a Tupperware.

Last time I handed one to her was before the meet cute where I killed two men.

And her eyes flashed with suspicion.

Come on baby. Know me. You know me.

"I was advised my therapist isn't good for me."

"Mmhm." I nodded.

I let her come up to my office.

"Well I like her. But the person who told me this seems to know what they are talking about. But they also claim to be absolutely terrible for me."

"Sure."

"But it seems like they care."

"So?"

"Do they know what's best?"

"Do you trust whoever this is?"

"Weirdly enough. Yes."

"Mmhm, do they know enough about you to have a say in what occurs in your life."

"Yes."

"Alright, well outsiders are usually right."

"What do you mean?"

"You ever talked to someone being abused in their relationship but you're the only one who sees it?"

"Yes."

"They don't see it because they are in it. Their feelings and thoughts are invested. You see it because you're not in it. Outsiders usually know best."

"So I should listen?"

"That's your choice. I just gave an analogy." I shrugged, watching her eat.

"Where do you get these Tupperware? They're really nice."

"I order them from IKEA."

She hummed.

"Why so many Tupperware questions since you've gotten here?"

"A lot of coincidences. I have a weird life."

I nodded.

I always avoided looking too long at her.

She was the love of my life.

I was hers. She just didn't know it yet.

But she had no shame staring me down.

I let her do whatever she had to.

One day she had to realize who I was.

"You look relatively secretive. What do you do outside of this?"

"Trying to bond?"

"Not exactly."

She studied my hands.

Then her eyes flared with familiarity.

She looked at my eyes and I stared her down.

Daring her to say something.

"Do you need something more from me, Danika?"

"N-no. My stomach is actually really hurting-"

"Really? A second ago you seemed just fine."

"I'm gonna-" she clutched her stomach.

I handed her my trashcan and she vomited.

I stood, holding her hair back.

I handed her my Kleenex box.

"It's you. It has to be." She shook her head, wiping her mouth.

"I didn't expect that reaction." I laughed.

"How long?" She turned and asked me.

I shrugged. "That doesn't matter."

I think you should clock out and take the night off.

"No because you'll be there."

"I'll be there regardless of anything, don't fight with me. You will never win." I stepped away from her.

"You killed those men."

"Before they killed you."

"You still-"

"Don't pretend like you cared. You wanted me to put you to sleep the night after it happened." I tsked.

"So I assume you'll be there tonight."

"No. You can sleep. We can revisit your stupid concerns later."

"That means you were the one who bought the painting."

"And?"

"I need to go. I can take the trash-"

"I've gotten it taken care of."