All that is dark | ✓

12| imago

Dante seemed pretty much unfazed by Zion's declaration that they were dating, but still Zion continued, smile smug. "What are you looking so surprised for?"

"I can't help it," Dante said," I've never heard someone be this pretentious before."

"Did no one teach you manners?" Zion frowned.

"You're the one randomly joining us," Dante said," I don't remember inviting you here."

"As Helene's boyfriend, I'm automatically invited."

"I don't care if you're dating," Dante replied," that doesn't mean you've become likeable."

It wasn't often Helene saw Zion annoyed, but Dante truly had a talent. An useless one perhaps, but one nonetheless. Right at that moment the server placed their orders down, glancing at Zion to see if she would have to take his as well. Helene imperceptibly shook her head at the server and she left, Zion's lips parted but his order unfinished.

"Zion, I think it's best if you leave," Helene said, smiling warmly so she wouldn't escalate the situation," Dante is my co-worker and we're discussing private things related to work. We can speak later."

"Why should I leave?" Zion said," there aren't any secrets between us, right?"

"God, you're annoying," Dante frowned," why are you so goddamn intense?"

Zion ignored him, staring at Helene instead with that almost feverish look in his eyes, the one which he carried when he was watching one of his finished art projects hung up on the wall.

"You remember what I said, don't you?" he said," I don't like people touching my art."

"Oh Zion," she said, for a moment only pity in her eyes as her hand cupped his cheek," you truly think this world is yours, don't you?"

She hadn't meant to say anything, had even already applauded herself for staying silent for so long, but here he was again, acting like her torment and her skin was only his to see. Everything else she could handle: his arrogance, him calling her his girlfriend, his hands on her, but not this. Her boundaries never had been set well, but this one she had to draw. If not, she would lose every last piece of herself, that was one thing she knew for sure.

Zion stared at her, as if doing so would change the words she had spoken. She had hurt his pride, that she knew, but the thing she was most worried about was Dante. Her gaze flicked towards him, his expression confused.

"What's going on?" he asked," what art?"

"It doesn't matter," she said," Zion was just leaving."

"No, I won't!" Zion shouted, alarming everyone in the cafe as he took her hands in his, grip so tight she could feel the blood drain out of her fingers. His eyes were wide, but within a moment he had collected himself again, smiling even if his grip remained. "I apologize, I didn't mean to scare you, Helene. Still, you know you shouldn't talk like that to me. I may think this world is mine, but at least I live in it. All you do is obsess over how other people perceive you, my muse, so isn't it only natural for you to be put on display? I don't see how you can hate me for that, not when you do it yourself every minute of every day."

Even though she knew the words were supposed to hurt, surprisingly they didn't. Instead she felt quite numb as she stared at him, knowing in her heart that he was right. Even with his fingers tangling in her hair before all she could think of was how she'd be able to show no weakness, how she would be able to keep the image of the perfect psychiatrist, with nothing to trouble her. Zion didn't lash out often, because he didn't think anger a beautiful emotion. Now, however, when her presumed new lover had only shown him disdain, in the same sharp way she had shown him pity, he didn't seem to care about showing anger. All he wanted was to hurt her, to get a reaction out of her, one which showed him she cared.

She didn't.

"Hit me," she said.

"What?" Zion said, smile faltering," what did you say?"

"You heard me," she said, leaning forward as she made sure to speak loud and clear," hit me."

Dante, who had jumped up out of his booth as soon as Zion had grabbed her hands, froze in place, staring at her in utter shock. Zion seemed to be in the same state of mind, shaking his head as he tried to laugh it off.

"Helene, don't be silly," he said, letting her hands go," you know I would never hurt you. I would never allow anything to mark your skin, never mind by my own hands."

"I'm tired of you, Zion," she said, gently cupping his face in her hands as the blood streamed back in," I can't even stand the sight of you and yet you keep bothering me. I've had enough of it. Only you can touch your art, right? Then hit me. Break me. Get it over with. I want you to move on to the next piece."

"How can you say that, Helene?" Zion said, face pale.

"You won't?" Helene asked, tilting her head to the right," I'm asking you to put me on display, like you wanted to. Why are you hesitating?"

Zion stared at her as if he had never seen her before, such horror and distaste in his eyes that Helene almost thought he would faint. She had told him he wasn't really looking at her and she'd been right, otherwise he wouldn't have had this look in his eyes, like he had expected her to be more in control of her emotions.

She was done with it all.

"Alright," she said, a slight relief flashing over Zion's face as she let him go.

"Thank God," Zion sighed," I thought you'd gone crazy for a second, Helene."

Without any hesitation Helene took the tea cup and smashed it on the table then, not breaking eye contact with Zion as she held up the largest shard with a wide smile.

"If you won't do it, I will."

Zion tried to stop her, but it was Dante who succeeded, her bodyguard roughly pushing Zion out of the booth and pulling the shard forcibly out of her hand.

"What the fuck?!" he shouted at her," what are you doing, Helene? Look at your hands!"

She did, staring numbly at the way the burns from where the tea had hit her were marring her skin red, intertwining with her crimson blood welling up on all the cuts on her hands. Then, she looked at Dante's hands, frowning once she saw the deep wound from where he had grabbed the shard from her.

"You're bleeding," she said.

"O my God," Dante said, voice filled with disbelief," you are the one —" He swallowed his incredulity, instead taking her wrist in his unwounded hand. "Never mind, we're going to the hospital now."

"Dante -" she began.

"I don't want to hear anything," he said, interrupting her," we're going to the hospital and then you're going to explain what the hell happened here."