Burning Eden ( Erik Lehnsherr )

vii. v(aga)engeful

"How long has she had them?"

The first panic attack happened in 1966. Hank disappeared for a family reunion and Irina found herself in Venice. The latter had been entrusted with checking in with the young girl with skinny bones turning dusty like the bunnies on her bookshelves.

When she had set her tan knuckles on the mahogany door, no response. When she called out, Gaia. No one called back. When Irina teleported inside, she found the pretty girl stuffed in a coat closet.

"Since she was nine."

"Why?"

"Hopefully, you'll find out one day, Charles."

"I don't know what you mea-"

"You don't care to know," hissed Irina. She leaned into the table. Anger pulsed in her eyes. "You dread the past, I understand. But, a father just doesn't stop being a father because he wants to."

He downed his drink. "I don't know what to do."

"You do not know how to do anything anymore."

"All right, my fault, I understand." He sighed. "God, I don't even know her anymore." His sad gaze lowered to the glass once filled with expansive, rich whiskey.

"Then, try, Charles. Please, for me, for her, try," said Irina, almost begging.

He nodded, inhaling sharply. "I- I felt so alone, Irina."

"Even with your daughter across the hall?" She shook her head, black tassels following. "Don't make excuses for yourself. We've all lost something. Me, Hank, Erik, more than likely: Logan, Gaia. But, we didn't stop trying, did we?"

Leering into black orbs, he asked, "what happened to you, Irina."

A half-smile spread, "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Why are you here, Irina? In 1961, you asked yourself that question every day. You always said for your grandmother. So, Irina, why are you here?"

Why are you here? The words were quoted by Karina, her sinister voice an echo in Irina's mind.

No bloody knives replayed in her mind like a joyous movie. Instead, flashes of a pretty smile by Gaia repeated. The arms of a gorgeous man engulfing her. "For the people I love."

"I owe you and her an apology," he said in a whisper.

Irina turned her neck to face Gaia once more. "When you apologize to her, there will be no need for me."

He nodded his head, shuffled his body, and closed his eyes to sleep. Irina heard soft snoring escape his mouth. She inspected him once more. She desired the past Charles, homey, nice Charles with nothing but pure love and kindness in his baby blue eyes. She'd once signed up to save the world with him. She had written her fancy invincible signature again, and maybe this time, she could help save himself too.

From the corner of her eyes, she spied on Erik. There'd been a time where she missed him, craved him. Moments where his hands on her hips felt like burns. Or her feet dragged when she walked. She never thought of him when she wedded Cillian. Erik had been her infatuation once, now he's the doomsday device for her poor heart.

She thought about setting a knife on his throat at that moment. What would happen? Would he plead for her to stop? Attempt to control her unknown knives? Her hands itched to know. Soon, they'd be scorned red.

Then, she imagined possibly the worst thing in existence. Marching up to him, black to blue. Storm to storm. Pink lips onto cherry lips. She'd force all her anger, her longing, her desires into their kiss. She'd allow herself to melt into it, make herself pathetic putty in his hands. He would set his hands on her hips, and she'd only love it more.

They'd separate for the barest of seconds, and she'd say ever so softly. "I missed you."

"A game of chess, Irina?"

Her head snapped up, her eyes not staring at Charles as her mind swirled into repulsive oblivion.

Erik finished placing one white chess piece into its place, his grotty orbs rolling up to look at her. He wore no smirk or shark-like smile.

She urged to say no and turn her face to the midnight window. But, the opportunity offered itself on a black, metal plate. She nodded her head. Treading towards him, she could see red. All she could see was blood.

"White or black?" He didn't look at her as he stared at the chess pieces.

"Black."

He moved his piece. "Your turn."

"Obviously," she muttered in Russian below her breath.

"How long since you played?"

"Last time I played with you," she answered in English with her faux British accent. "Gaia and I play checkers."

"I've played every day since my imprisonment."

Thorns grew around Irina's hands. She had to suppress the urge of choking him, watching as his face turned purple. She hid the need to see if her thorns would turn into vengeance's roses.

"Is that the only thing you did? Nothing else," she asked, her voice the same static calm which buzzed with murderous intentions and bloody pleasure.

He paused for a moment. His azure eyes roamed the board. But, Irina knew better, he was looking for an answer.

"No."

That was enough to send her over the empty, crack cliff of loveless purity. She teleported to his side. A knee sank between his legs, her body leaned against his seat. A sharp knife pressed onto his pulsing throat.

"No?" She hissed. She didn't see when the rest woke up, she only felt the burning desire to end Erik's life. Tears sprang in her furious eyes. "You killed my husband. He had been trying to help you. Yet, you kill him. With our wedding rings." She choked on a broken sob. Blood spilled from the tip of the knife. "You say you care about us, mutants. But, you do not. You do not care about them and much less about me. Every night I dreamed of your blood on mine. But now I realize. You are nothing but a man." But my husband was my god.

She looked into his blue eyes once more before life evaporated from them. She'd love the sight of it. She'd soak it in, she'd moan out in simple euphoria as the knife slides across his neck. She'd press a kiss to it, coating her lips in crimson lipstick.

But, Irina was too late. Logan had pressed his hands on both of her mourning shoulders and pushed her away from her awaiting victim. She sobbed and wailed, but no words were able to be croaked out.

Some part of her knew though. She shouldn't have grown thorns and she wouldn't have betrayed her god.