The Worst Drug

•Give It Time•

{•Unedited•}
~Vina's POV~

Let's be real, the majority of my life I've felt pretty lost. Right now, being twenty three when I swear I'm seventeen and single, is the worst it's ever been. This handsome man in front of me is saying he's my husband and my dad is here with a wedding ring on, not correcting this man one bit. I was shocked when I looked at the wristband to see it really did say 'Corvina Marie Massimo' instead of 'Corinthos.' It doesn't sound wrong.
My dad came in from calling my mom and a shirt in his hand that he gave to Idris. I was happy when he went to the bathroom to change and someone called my dad so he left the room. Being alone is what I need right now, just quiet so I can figure this out.
The last memory I have is my mom and Atticus asking me about public school. At least I'm happy to know I went and graduated. Things between my mom and dad seem better but not perfect, when I said I wanted her I noticed him tense up.
The bathroom door opens and my husband comes out. The room is still dim with only a lamp on and now the one in the bathroom. The man who says he's my husband comes out with the shirt my dad gave him in his hand still but his older shirt discarded somewhere in the bathroom.
Tattoos usually aren't my thing even though I've been around them my entire life. When I was little I used to enjoy coloring in my dads. My mom has printed pictures of me doing do when I was five or six put away somewhere in the garage. But on him they look good and I get the impression it would look strange if they weren't there.
He keeps himself in shape, his body defined but not too much. I stop myself before I can get any lower with my gaze. He just have noticed me staring because he laughs, putting the grey t-shirt on that hugs his arms snug. I press my lips together.
"You can look all you want. I am your husband after all," he says with a cocky grin. I don't like when people have big ego's. It's a form of self-manipulation; more often than not people with big ego's are the most insecure and use that as a facade. "Even all battered up you look beautiful, baby. I want you to be comfortable with me."
"I'm trying, it's hard. You have all these memories and I have none. I never even imagined myself talking to a complete male stranger."
"Yeah, I'm sorry I was so annoying reading."
"I don't even remember." He leaves the shirt off when he sits down in the chair that I'm sure is uncomfortable. "Can I, um, ask you a few things?"
    "Of course." I wince as I shift I to a more comfortable position. His eyes roam over me in concern. His hands grip his knees like he's pushing himself to stay in the chair and not help me. If he did I would just push his hands away. Even if he's my husband I don't know him.
    "What do I do for a living? Did I go to college for it?" I always wanted to go to college but didn't think I could do it.
    "You work at an insurance company managing finances. You went to college," he answers. That makes sense; I like numbers and figuring things out. I eye him again, trying to get a feel of what he could do. Him and my dad get along great and I'm scared that's not for good reasons.
     "What do you do?" He pauses, looking at his hands. Shoot.
     "I work for Sin, sometimes with your dad. I'm," another pause. He reaches over and takes my hand. It's a comforting gesture and he gets it hard squeeze. He was right earlier about me liking him playing with my fingers. "Please remember how much I love you. I mean, you don't remember anything but know that I do. Trust me, I love you so much."
     "Do you kill people?" I ask. He lets out a deep breath that's mixed with a laugh. In a way he sounds relieved. It wouldn't surprise me.
    "I'm a torturer." Ooohhh.
    "Y-You torture people?" I stutter. Even if I could I know I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye. I'm married to a torturer; my husband torturers people to death. In some way I see that worse than what my dad does, at least he lets them off a little easy.
"Yeah and I work with your dad too sometimes," he tells me. Great, they're partners in crime. My dad having a friendship with my husband is the last thing I'd expect, but then again I wasn't expecting to be married at all. I'm suddenly very aware of him holding my hand and pull mine away.
I've heard about torturers and read enough to know I want to stay away from them. But he's my husband, there must have been something about him that made him so...loveable begins his dashing looks. "Have you ever hurt me?"
     "Fuck no!" He shouts, startling me. "I would never hurt you, Vina. I don't want to keep doing this, I'm talking with a friend whose wife is in real estate about buying a garage to stop an auto repair shop. I want a safe life for us. This is all my fault."
     Just as I'm about to ask how my dad comes in. I take a deep breath and move my arm that's wrapped up in a brace. My body is starting to hurt again but a doctor was in not along ago and said she was going to return. Idris puts the shirt on and stands up. He doesn't look that evil, how can stomach what he does? More importantly, how did I sleep at night next to that man?
    "You're looking a little pale," my dad points out. I snap my gaze up to him. I need some space.
    "Idris, can you leave the room for a little bit, please? This is...this is too much," I tell him. My face feels way hotter than the rest of my body. The thin and rough blankets don't do much to block out the cold. He nods, looking at my dad before walking out.
     He takes the seat he was just in. If anyone looks tired it's him. His hair is a mess and his eyes are dark around them. I take slow breaths, feeling a twinge of pain in my lower right ribcage.
    "How are you coping with the whole...marriage thing?" He asks. I never thought I'd hear those words leave his mouth. I was still holding on to but of hope that this was all a sick joke but he can't keep up acts for long. 
    "I'm in shock." Now for a whole new reason. I feel a sharp pain in my right hip. He winces for me, shaking his head.
"Your mom is on her way," he tells me. That's what he was doing. "When you're discharged are you going to be okay to go home or do you want to go with mom and I for a while?" I can't answer that right now. My husband is a torturer, that's scary has heck. I'd be terrified to ever get in a small bicker with him.
"He's a good man," my dad tells me. There must be something about Idris other than his dashing looks that drew me in so much, all I know is that it definitely wasn't his people skills. He doesn't talk much and is quite snappy. One thing I hate is rude people...he seems rude.
"He's a torturer..."
"And I'm a hitman, does that make me a bad dad or person?" I put my head down. He got me there. "Exactly. He's a good husband, he loves you. But if you don't feel comfortable enough to be in a house alone with him then you can come with mom and I."
"The torturer, I guess." This should be great, note my sarcasm.
•••••••
~Idris's POV~