chapter sixteen - moiety
song of the chapter; because I had you - shawn mendes
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WITH NOAH NOW gone, there was nothing left for Farah to fear. But other than him, uncertainty and distrust were haunting and unpredictability was strangling. Israfil was an enigma; he wasn't easy to understand, and although his intentions seemed clear and pure enough, she could never be too cautious.
At the same time, though, her memories were enough to be scared of. And as guilty as she felt, she couldn't sit and spill every one of her darkest and deepest secrets. She couldn't mope over the loss of the man she once loved, even if he was somehow the worst and the best thing that happened. To say the words aloud, to recite the things inside her head would be to relive the events, and she knew she wasn't emotionally or mentally stable enough. As it is, Farah had flashbacks and night terrors of it all, and she knew she couldn't afford to lose any more sanity.
Conscience-stricken and woebegone, Farah felt dejected while she sat on her bed. She couldn't help but feel ashamed for her outburst, so she decided to catch her incipient remorse in its early stages, and began to rise. Her feet were bare on the soft carpet as she moved towards her door, and she placed her clammy hand on the cold metal handle and pulled it open, legs moving on their own accord towards his office. When she arrived, she was about to raise her fist to knock when she heard a voice.
"I did what I had to do, Azrael." It was Israfil, talking to his brother. "Don't tell me how to run my own fucking pack. I did what was in best interest of everybody, not just Farah."
She almost sucked in a sharp breath, but she kept quiet.
He sighs, "It doesn't matter what the repercussions were, Azrael. Do you want me to repeat it? I fucking killed the bastard, ripped his throat out with my damn teeth." Israfil continues, "Not only did he rape other women, but he murdered a man."
Thud, thud, thud.
Farah's heart slammed against her ribs, and she would've winced if she wasn't so consumed by a swallowing nauseated by his words. She didn't know which part was worse- that he had openly admitted that he had ripped out Noah's throat with his teeth or the discovery that she hadn't been the only woman Noah had raped and abused.
Thud, thud, thud, Israfil could hear her heartbeat now, and he swallowed harshly with anxiousness, hanging up the phone.
The horrifying revelation had the world spinning around her, and she leaned forward to grip the handle of the door, but it moved.
It opened and Israfil stood tall and broad, his eyes silver and chatoyant in the dark hallway. Ironically cat-like, there were splashes of white truth scattered across the irises, and Farah could not will herself to look away. She was trapped, contained between the four eggshell finish walls that seemed to be closing in as every second ticked by on the clock.
Her mouth opened to say something, but her mind couldn't form a sentence, so she closed it shortly afterward. "I-" She stuttered.
"How much of that did you hear?" His tone was low and baritone, treading on thin ice.
Farah's heart was still beating with vigor, "All of it." She whispered, stumbling back. "You-you killed him, didn't you?" The silence that followed after was deafening.
His head hung low and his hair fell into his eyes, "Yes."
"Say it." She ordered.
Israfil looked up, confused, "What?"
"I need to hear you say it." She whispered.
His eyebrows furrowed, "Why?"
"Say it, goddamnit!" Her voice raised and now bordered a scream.
Israfil's height towered over her own, "I killed him."
Farah didn't know how she was expecting to react, hearing him admit it. But her feet shuffled back again, staggering over the truth, and her knees felt wobbly like they'd collapse at any given time. The shock was a sharp slap to the face, teetering her over the edge of insanity, and numbing her senses with instability. She had told him to say it aloud, after all, but it came as such a stunning disturbance that she couldn't even respond.
He mirrored her movements, legs moving towards her. "Farah-"
"No," She was struggling to catch his breath, "You need to stay away, I need-" A gasp for air interrupted her, "I need to get away from here."
Israfil's hand reached out to place it on her arm, but she jerked it away. "You can't leave."
I need to, she wanted to insist. But everything was all in her head at the moment, and it was becoming too much to bear. "I need to leave." She repeated.
"It's not safe out there," Israfil asserted, "There are people out there looking for you."
Farah tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, "I'm not safe with you."
"Why?" He asks, "What have I done to show you that you aren't safe with me?"
She hated that he was right. As much as she hated to admit it, it was nothing but the truth. Israfil had done nothing to prove that he wasn't trustworthy- the only thing that he hid was his supernatural identity, but for that, he had a good reason. She had thought it over, and if he had introduced himself as her mate, she most likely would've deemed him insane and never spoken to him. And she would still be returning to her godforsaken apartment where a demon remained. In a way, he saved her.
"I-" Farah stammered. And then in one swift moment, she turned on her heel and walked away. A deep part of her was screaming to turn back, to run into the promise of safe arms, but she didn't. She kept on walking, further and further away from what she wanted and into the retreat of her bedroom where she remained alone.
She left, and Israfil let her.
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At the time, it seemed like a good idea for Israfil to let her cool off. He was fully aware that slaughter wasn't exactly common in the human world, but rape and murder in the werewolf world were punishable by death. It was enforced, to make an example to the rest of the supernatural population. According to lycanthrope order, Israfil's act in killing Noah was completely justifiable and allowed. He didn't know if he should be concerned or angry that Farah was upset about his death, so he was both.
Truthfully, he should've chased after her. He should've yanked her back, and calmly explained to her everything that happened, but he didn't. He thought that it was in his best interest to leave her be momentarily, but it felt like he didn't know himself at all when he opened the bedroom door and the room was vacant. All the tiny things that had been there before he hadn't noticed, the personal touch that she had brought on the bedroom were now gone.
The small black makeup drawers that once sat on top of the dresser were gone. Her clothes no longer hung on the hook behind the door. Her polaroid photos of her family on her bedside table were gone, her laundry no longer sat on the floor in the corner of the room, next to the doorframe that led to the bathroom, and her presence dissipated. She left. She gathered her stuff and left like nothing had ever happened at all.
Gone with the wind and blown like a storm.
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THIS CHAPTER IS SO SHORT BUT EVENTFUL WOWOWOW I HATE MYSELF LMFAO BYE