god is a woman (arthur shelby.)

twelve.

☾

Rowan stayed with Arthur all night as he slept in the chair next to her, both huddled in front of the fire. She struggled to fall asleep, and even when she did she woke herself with worries. The fire had dwindled into a tiny flame, almost like a candle as it was neglected over the night.

Daylight was pouring through the windows and illuminated Arthur's neck. The line was still red raw and covered in dried blood. Rowan was just grateful that he was still alive, even if he didn't want to be. Death frightened her too much, much more than she would ever dare to admit. The wound looked angry, and so Rowan decided to clean it for him.

She prepared a bowl of saltwater as quietly as possible, but even dropping a large metal bowl didn't even stir him. There was no sound in the kitchen other than water dripping into the bowl as Rowan rung out the wet cloth. The peaceful air was fighting to dominate over Rowan's deep seated fear of what would happen when Arthur awoke.

After she told him about Grace, he threatened to slap her before drifting into his sleep. Rowan let it slide, she was more than used to being physically threatened. She saw in his eyes that he wanted to believe her, but didn't want to betray his own family in denying Polly. There was a whole entity Arthur kept hidden behind his eyes, one that wanted to fall into her arms and tell her she was right, but he concealed it as best as his could.

Rowan gently pressed the hot cloth against Arthur's neck and swiped it across, dried blood seeping into the fabric. The salty water stung the both of them as it crept into one of the cracks on the back of Rowan's hands. Arthur opened his eyes to be met with her soft brown ones examining his neck. He watched her every flinch and flicker, absorbed in her beauty for longer than he realised.

"Let it rot." He grumbled as she rinsed the cloth in the bowl, sitting down next to him.

"You'll die." She whispered tentatively.

"Good." He gruffly spoke, catching her stare.

She averted any eye contact and wiped his neck clean once more.

"You can look at me you know." Arthur spoke a little louder, catching her off guard and causing her to flinch. "I'm not gonna touch you."

"That's not what you said last night." Her gentle Irish voice contrasted his deep Birmingham accent.

Rowan internally cringed as she brought up the night previous despite hoping that he wouldn't. She quickly walked away and over to the sink, emptying the bowl of coral colored water down the sink and dropping the bowl into it as well.

"How are you so sure it's Grace?" Arthur asked.

"Leave it. I didn't mean any of it, I was drunk." She lied.

"You weren't fucking drunk." He spat out and stood up, anger pulsating through his body.

"Please just stop talking." Rowan held the sides of the sink so hard her knuckles turned white as she began to feel light headed.

"Get out of my house." Arthur instructed before sitting back down. "Get out of my sight. Get out of my head. Every time I shut my fucking eyes, you're there. I'm fucking sick of it."

"I can't help that." She whispered to herself. "You have to believe me."

Rowan sat herself down in the wooden chair she'd spent her whole night curled up in. Arthur let his gaze shift towards her, and immediately began to melt. Rowan's big doe eyes were filled to the brim with tears, small fire flickers reflecting in them. They were tinged with red as her exhaustion over ran her body, along with her desperation.