30

We're in my bedroom and Xerxes is trying to get me to lie down with some moronic argument. I should first process what happened. But I don't want to process. I don't want to concern myself with dragging everything and everyone that means something to me into the abyss. And even less do I want to deal with the fact that I wasn't there for Claire. I missed your last seconds on this earth. Because that really hurts.

"Kalota," says Xerxes resignedly and ruffles his hair. "You can't think straight right now." His compassionate look meets me and I take a deep breath. I don't want to be pitied. Don't want to see the worries about my mental state in the green.

"I am perfectly capable of thinking." That's correct. Xerxes taught me to keep a reasonably clear mind even in situations soaked with suffering.

He snorts in annoyance and the fact that Xerxes doesn't believe me makes me clench my fist. He, of all people, should know what I'm capable of and what I'm not able to do. "You overestimate yourself," he grumbles and I immediately want to say something. But even as I part my lips, he raises his hands in the air to calm me down. "I don't feel like arguing with you about this." And now he sits next to me on the bed. Just looks at me and seems to be struggling with what to do with me now. "You know I could force myself to spend days in this room?" The voice is warm. Despite the threat that he will simply get his way, Xerxes has this endlessly beautiful tenderness. And just to reinforce that he brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Gently runs his fingertips over me.

"Yes," I breathe, begging Xerxes not to do this to me. I wouldn't survive being alone with my thoughts. Then they would descend on me like vultures. Would pick the flesh off my bones and kill me. Slowly and quietly.

Xerxes sighs and purses his lips thoughtfully. Just that gesture makes my heart pound painfully in my chest and I lean towards him. Look for his nearness and hope for understanding. "You said you would show me a way to do it better." My voice can hardly be heard. Shows my inner sadness more than clearly, but Xerxes is not impressed. He looks at me instead, just raising an annoyed eyebrow. "Yes, but I didn't mean that it will happen immediately."

And that makes me hard to swallow. However, I know Xerxes. Knows how to persuade him and a little voice inside me whispers that he wants that too. Xerxes wants me to crawl up to him to give me what I need. And right now I only want one thing. Revenge. Bloody revenge. This is the only thing that determines my thinking. That's also the reason why it's not even difficult for me not to approach him any further. Floating my lips across his cheek. "But I really don't want to lie down and certainly don't want to think," I whisper into his skin. I should have a hard time doing that. Claire just died. I almost think I can still smell the smoke. Hearing her whimpering in my head. But it's just part of my job. Back then it was money what made me want to be close to men. Now it's Claire's death. A far more important reason.

Xerxes smiles. I don't see it, but I can feel it in the slight movement of his cheek. He's obviously pleased that I now know him so well. Yes, I know how to turn a no into a yes. At least with Xerxes. That never worked with Zaret. Another major difference between the two.

But Xerxes says nothing. Wordlessly lets me understand that my efforts are not enough. So I blow him a kiss on the cheek and get up slightly. This is harder than I thought. I'm shivering. The whole body. Actually, that should give me pause and most likely Xerxes is right that I need rest. But I am so terribly afraid to deal with what happened. So I do what I always do. I push it in a corner. Let all my feelings fade into darkness and take away a little more humanity from myself.

"I want someone to bleed for Claire's death." I sit on Xerxe's lap as I speak. Run my fingers down his shirt and even I realize how paradoxical this whole situation is. From the outside it looks like we're having a good time. As if Xerxes and I were just two people pursuing our physical urges. And in a way we do too. Just each in their own way. Xerxes by forcing me even now to be his prostitute and me by quenching my thirst for blood.

"Hm," Xerxes growls, the green of his eyes unfathomable. Formal at me. But I don't lean in and kiss him. Instead, I bite my lower lip and think carefully about the next words. The name Magda has not yet been mentioned. But it's clear what I mean. Xerxes must know whose blood is to flow. But now I'm treading on thin ice. On damn thin ice. We've always sidestepped the Magda issue. I have no idea what or if he feels anything for her at all. And so I don't dare to say what I really think. Let Magda's name linger unspoken a little longer.

"I don't want to be everyone's doormat anymore," I whisper, looking down in embarrassment. Just saying that takes a lot of effort. Because it is the absolute truth. Everyone trampled on me. Hurt me and yet ignored my screams. This shall end. Here and now. They went too far with Claire.

Xerxes nods, but suddenly there seems to be less understanding on his face. He is annoyed. And just to confirm that, he dips his finger under the fabric on my décolleté and puts it under my breasts. "I always said you shouldn't lie." His eyes drop to my exposed breasts and he rubs his thumb hard over my nipple. This only shows more clearly that he doesn't like something at the moment. "And in that way you're not lying either," he mutters, looking directly at me again. "But this beating around is getting pretty close to a lie." And with that he twirls my nipple. Elicits a gasp somewhere between pain and shock. But he doesn't stop, applies more force and pulls me towards him. I give in immediately and let my lips float over his. Breathe a whimper on Xerxes' lips and surrender to the pain. Xerxes taught me that too. Physical agony becomes more bearable when I take care of it instead of counteracting it. And I can still think like that. Knows what Xerxes wants from me. The truth.

"I want Magda to die." The pain resonates clearly in what is said. But I do not care. Xerxes has seen me in other situations. And in fact he lets go of me. Instead, it almost gently circles my nipple. "It wasn't that hard," he whispers, gently placing his lips on mine. And again I know what Xerxes wants. He wants me to beg. But not through words, but through my actions. And I do. All my despair is in the kiss. my hate my sadness He should feel it. And just to reinforce that, I slide even closer to him. His crotch is right above mine and I almost think I can feel the twitching of the hardness. How he enjoys my being so dependent on him.

That should disgust me. I should be absolutely sick of Xerxes taking advantage of my situation like this. But that's not the case. At least Xerxes gives me a way to get what I want. He is the first person to hear me. My fears and my desires. It doesn't matter how he listens to me. I just don't care. And I'm up against his wife right now. Just saying I wanted to kill her could cost me my head. But Xerxe's lips are soft on mine. And his tongue brushes mine, too, teasing rather than angry. This gives me hope. In his own way. In a way that I know. So I grab his shoulders and get a satisfied grunt from Xerxes.

"Platura will be very reluctant to carry out the order to kill her," he whispers between kisses and grabs my hair. But he doesn't push me onto the bed yet, but gives me the time to say something else. So I just snuggle my lips against his for a second before resting my forehead on his. "No, you misunderstand me." No more than a breath and yet there is an unexpected power in my words. "I don't want her to just die. I want to kill her."

Even as I speak, Xerxe's lips curl up into a grin. I don't even need to look at him to know I'm doing exactly what he wants with it. Once my hand is stained with Magda's blood, there will be no turning back. I will become like Xerxes. Going through what he went through when he was fifteen. Become his mask, showing him mercy on the outside and handing the knife in the dark so that the next person loses his life.

And that's all okay. Magda brought the monster in me to life. And let her be the first to fall victim to my hatred. "Then so be it," he whispers, and spins me onto the bed, back first. Fixes me downright on the mattress and pulls down his pants with a jerk.