The Lover’s Kill.
"Hush, baby. You'll be fine." He cooed against her ears as she snuggled against him in tiredness. Tears streamed from her eyes without a stop.
"I am sorry, Tristan." She hiccuped between the sobs. "I..I know I've been a mistake." She let out, for once feeling calm, her hands did not shake, she didn't feel jittery, her mind was calm and her heart at rest. She smiled through her sobs, she liked that feeling.
"You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Kiara." He whispered, kissing her forehead.
"I need to sleep." She murmured, smiling. "I love you, Tristan." She croaked out, her hands tightened around his waist as did his around her, holding her in a cocoon. With a heavy breath, she lifted her head to meet his lips with hers, tears once again slid from her eyes that mixed in with their kiss.
A lone tear escaped from his eyes, his heart clenching in ache. His heartbeat raced as the kiss started to slow, her breath coming out uneven as she pulled away from him to take in the bits of air. "I am sorry, baby." He cried, his tears held at bay no more. "I had to do this." Her eyes widened for a second as realisation hit her throat closing up, choking on her air, but then she pecked his lips for a mere second as she breathed her last words in gladness. "Thank you..." And then she closed her eyes, her hold loosened against his, while his did not. His remained the same, waiting for the inevitable-
"..All the evidence have been against Mr. Ryder. The jury may take decision after Mr. Ryder's statement." The judge in his early fifties with graying hair and sympathetic eyes stated to the solemn court before allowing his eyes to rest on the suspect.
"Mr. Ryder, would like you to say anything in your defense?" The judge waited, patiently, although it was not something in his work demands nor did he usually have patience but the faraway look in the man's eyes that hardly seemed to register his words and the trouble with which he looked back at the judge, it seemed he wanted to anything he could to lessen the man's pain but the vow to follow his duties allowed him not.
"Mr. Ryder?" He called again with a sympathetic smile his way.
Tristan shook his head in 'no'. The judge opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but on another thought decided not to. "Is that your last decision?" Again, no answer. With a sigh and a glance at his family members sitting across from him, he turned to the jury. "You may proceed."
Discussion began as jury members spoke among themselves. Being an unusual but not unheard of, the law demanded the involvement of a jury but the final decision laid on the judge's hand alone. Tristan, uninterested turned to look at his parents as well, his mother remained in his father's arms as she cried while his father stared at him with a look of 'helplessness' on his face as if telling him that he couldn't do anything if he did not. Beside them sat his brother who looked at him blankly as if he didn't know how to react at all. Throwing a weak smile at them, he murmured. 'I love you guys', before the order of the judge was announced.
"The jury has decided that Mr. Ryder is guilty but must not be punished." Murmurs rang through the courtroom, some agreeing with the decision while some shouted that it was unjust and that the guilty must be punished but one voice stopped it all bringing a pin drop silence in the courtroom. "I deserve to be hanged!" Tristan shouted at the judge, his once solemn eyes seemed bloodshot as rage took over him. "Don't you see, what I've done! I killed the only woman I loved!" His hands locked themselves in his hair as he screamed, furious. "I killed her with my own bloody hands..." The last part a mere whisper.
"And yet..." The judge turned to the crowd as he continued, "He had tried to kill himself. I announce the guilty not punished but be subjected to counseling for helping him overcome his developed suicidal tendency post the death of Kiara Michaels." The name jolted something inside him as he bent his head crying his eyes out, uncaring if it seemed unmanly, he cried while his whispers altered between telling her how much he loved her to how much he was apologetic. "I just..just couldn't see her like that."
"Mr. Ryder will be released today and from tomorrow, will be subjected to strict counseling to help him with depression and suicidal tendency... The crowd is dismissed."
"Mr. Ryder, why did you kill your girlfriend?!" The press around him threw the questions at him.
"We're you always this psychotic?!"
"Did your girlfriend cheat on you?!" Ryder remained uncared at the questions as he was being dragged away by his father. His mother walked beside him on his other side. The media however was not satisfied with the indifference until one of them spoke.
"Is it true you forced your girlfriend to take drugs and killed her because she denied?!" On instant, Ryder growled as he pushed through the crowd to hunt the man down, punching him across his jaw as the man laid sprawled out on the floor with the affect of his blow. And straightening back his tee, he walked away from the stunned crowd while his parents followed behind him with their constant worried gazes, knowing what would happen to their reputation, the name of Ryder's industries built from scratch would fall back to just that..a scratch that is, if their son continued to ruin his life.
"You don't have to be here? I'm not going to kill myself." He sighed at the policemen standing outside his door.
"I am sorry, Mr. Ryder, we have strict orders to monitor you." With a dejected look, Tristan nodded closing the door behind him as he entered his house. Every step he took inside his home, the memories that lingered in his mind flashed before his eyes, the photos that hung on the walls brought back the tears in his eyes. Taking hold of one of the frame off the wall, he traced the outline of her picture. It was at a time she was laughing while she fell down clumsily on her heel, she didn't know it back then, until he presented it before her. She had hugged him to herself kissing him like her life depended on it. He wished it really did...
Holding the frame to his chest, he marched towards his room, grabbing the knife from his kitchen on his way and with a look of determination in his eyes he walked inside the bathroom and taking a final look at the house that contained her memories, he closed the doors shut...
"I'm out, man. I gotta go home and sleep this night away." He called out to his friend as he walked out of the club, his mood sour as he remembered the last meeting with his client. A jerk... He glared at his image in his mind, if only he could keep his ego aside and look at it with a more open mind, he'd have known how profitable the use of undergraduates and drop outs for their industry would have been. Not only good success but unadulterated ideas from them would make theirs a leading company in their city.
But it was himself who needed to fix if he didn't want his father to have a fit, after all it was his father's idea. Reaching his car, he pulled the door open only to freeze at the distant voice that made itself known to him. "L..Let me go!" The voice was slurred and difficult to understand but it was definitely of struggle. Shutting the door of the car with a bang, he ran towards the voice as it increased in volume and finally reached the site. The scene before him made his blood boil as he growled marching towards the two men trying to force upon a woman.
"Back off! You bastards!" And without waiting for a response, he kicked one of the man away from the struggling woman. The other man came howling with his fist held aiming to hurt the intruder but was thrown away with a kick in his groins. As he tried to reach the woman, something hit his neck, stilling him for a moment but as he turned around with a groan but seeing the broken bottle of beer in his hand, he smirked fishing out a sleek piece of metal from his pocket as he held it before them, loading it, ready to shoot.
With widened eyes and shivers, one ran after the another, away from them. "Bloody perverts." He muttered turning towards the woman that stayed in a ball, her back crouched by the wall and her head between her knees. Sitting himself to a similar position, he spoke in his warm and soothing eyes.
"Are you alright? Did they hurt you anywhere?" And then the most beautiful pair of green eyes met his amber ones and a dazed look appeared in her stance as she bit her lips in anxiousness, she was probably scared, he thought, but her blood shot eyes and scent of alcohol told him she was drunk miserably. "Thank you." She let out with a struggle as she passed out the next second.
With a sigh he took her to his home, not having any other choice, his eyes drifting between the empty walls of his house and her figure lying knocked out on his couch. Walking away, he decided to reside his own self on his bed, he decided he was going to treat her to a good breakfast and let her off to her house.
Groaning from the building ache in her head, she pulled her eyes open with the enough strength, suddenly becoming aware of her surroundings, cream colored walls surrounded her and herself was laid upon a maroon couch.
'Where the hell am I?' She groaned, clutching onto her head as she sat up on her couch.
"Am glad you're up." She snapped her head at the voice behind her, so fast, she was surprised she didn't get a whiplash.
"W..Who are you?" She stuttered, clutching the thick blanket to her chest.
Breath caught in her throat as the man came into her view, curly black locks covered his head while his amber eyes that made him look like a foreigner stared am right back at her with full intensity. May be he was, she thought. His confident strides and six feet height made her shiver in delight. Reaching up to where she sat, she watched him lean forward taking her off guard as he came face to face, a smirk crawling upon his lips making her gulp and move backwards on instinct.
A hand was placed on the rim of the couch while another neared her face, making her go still as he casually put a stray lock of her blonde hair behind her ear making her breath hitch. "Breakfast's ready." In a daze, she simply nodded her head making his smirk widen. Awkwardly she sat on his left as he took his head chair. Clearing her throat, she initiated the talk while she took a bite of the poached eggs.
"I..Thank you, f..for saving me last night." She squeaked out. He simply nodded pushing a bowl of soup in her direction. "This will help you with the hangover." He quipped. She smiled making her ogle at him in awe at the way her eyes shined like the pearls in contact with the rays of the sun. He scoffed uncomfortably at the poetic thought.
"So what do you do..?" He trailed away not knowing her name. She smiled again. "Kiara..no surname." She added in the end.
"Tristan Ryder." He held out his hand for a shake and a jolt traveled up his spine at the feel of his soft fragile hand in his. Reluctantly he let go of her hand.
"I'll be leaving then." She stood up from her seat once she had washed up their plates, allowed on insistence that it's only fair she washed the dishes after his help. "Where do you stay..?" He questioned quickly before offering, "I can drop you off." Fetching his jacket from the couch, he waited for her to lead.
"I..um..ugh." She struggled to speak as he rose a perfectly thick shaped brow at her. "I have nowhere to go." She sighed at last, avoiding his eyes. Truth was she did, but it wasn't a place she could call her home.
"You can stay here." Shocked, she turned back to stare at him. He merely shrugged. "I mean you have nowhere else to go and I'm all alone here, I don't mind a roommate..especially someone as beautiful as yourself." He winked as he added the last part making her go red.
"I'm sorry. I can't. But thanks for the offer." She turned away quickly as she walked to the door. She can't, she convinced herself, not with the burden she'd be. She shivered at the thought, that was the last thing she'd do to reveal about herself and feel ashamed before the man who had saved her. Clutching the knob of the door, she pulled it open about to step out of his house when his next words made her go still.
"You forgot your bag!" He shouted as she turned back to him with fear, sweat beaded her forehead. Her hands shook at the recollection of the substance in it, followed by the intense urge to use it. Her heartbeat accelerated as a fear of being discovered thrived in her mind. Marching towards him she tried not to whimper under his intense gaze as she took hold of the strap of her bag. Pulling at it, she wanted him to let go of her bag. "I hope you get better." He spoke the words in sympathy before letting go of it.
Days passed by as Tristan told himself to forget about her and not to worry after what he had seen in her bag. "She'd be fine." He told himself but couldn't understand what he was trying to do by going to the same he had last found her. Scanning through the club he found her nowhere. Giving up, he decided to leave but decided to check the site she was in trouble the last time. Walking in that direction, he found only silence making him sigh, she wasn't there either.
But then he heard a groan. Snapping his head in the direction of the noise, his eyes fell upon a woman half unconscious lying on the floor of the lobby. Cursing under his breath he ran towards the woman, lifting her face to make himself recognise. "Kiara, listen to me." He shook her shoulders but there was no response, only a smile of distress taking over her lips. "Are you alright?" And she was out.
"Welcome back... Kiara." She groaned hearing the familiar voice.
Not again' She turned around with a nervous grin on her face, taking in the familiar amber eyes that did not fail to pull her within them every 'damn' time.
"What am I doing here..again?" She inquired, clutching onto her aching head. With a cup of beverage in his hand he strolled towards her with his lazy smirk intact. "Here you go, coffee will do you good."
Taking a sip she moaned at the bitter taste of it, her breath hitching as her eyes met his to find them staring at her intensely. Unable to stand the gaze, she looked away first before clearing her throat and finishing her coffee quickly.
"Thanks again. I'll leave now." A hand wrapped around her wrist as she stood up to leave pulling her back to her seat as he leant forward to push her back on the couch until she was in a sleeping position. "You should rest." He muttered, he didn't know what he was trying to achieve by doing so. She did seem like she needed to sleep or was he trying to delay her departure?
Taking the bag by her couch, making sure she was deep asleep, he flushed the contents in the toilet. Resting against the door of his bathroom, he wondered if he did the right thing but he couldn't obviously let her continue with it.
How long can you stop her? His mind taunted. ..And with what right?
Commotion from outside, brought him out of his mental battle as he hurried back to his living room to see she had woken up and going about throwing things in his house as if in search of something. Hearing his footsteps, she stilled before turning around to look at him with a knowing look. "W..Where is it?"
Tristan shrugged casually. "Flushed."
"What?!" She shouted in disbelief, running past him to the bathroom to find her bag containing only her wallet inside and nothing else, not her 'drugs' not 'weed'.
Furious, she marched back to where he stood with features blank and fists tightly bound. "Who the fuck do you think you're?!" She bellowed in obvious fury, punching him on his chest with no effect. Her mind in scatters she didn't realise when she had taken the vase and bashed it against his head as he stumbled back in shock and pain.
"Just stop!" He shouted with equal vigor. The pain from the hit made him stagger back as blood gushed from his forehead.
Realisation fell upon her of her violent moves, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh my God!" She hollered in shock. "I am so sorry." She quickly closed the distance between them, her hands holding his wounded forehead as he let her. "I didn't..I didn't realise." She cried out in shame and regret, terrified by her actions.
"Hush!" He whispered against her ears calming her down as his hands wrapped themselves around her waist, pulling her to his chest. "I think I can take a wound for you..."
"How long have you been taking those?" He pushed, breaking the silence after she had banded his wound, not failing to apologise every other second for her mistake.
Another moment of silence followed his question, until she sighed and decided to answer. "A year..." She trailed away and just when he thought he wasn't going to get anything else after that, she decided to speak.
"In my final year of college." She continued. "I..I had been to a party with my b..boyfriend." Tristan frowned at the word but decided to remain quiet. "He took me to a club, at first I didn't have a clue as to what he was involved in. I guess it was his 'badboy' aura that attracted me." She grimaced, like that had been a worst mistake of her life, it probably was. "He forced me into taking drugs..ex..exploited me once I was out. I don't know what happened exactly once I was drugged but the next day I found myself kidnapped, tied to a chair in a dark room. It was then I found out by his revelation that he was a member of a local gang." She shivered as the memory of it left her in chills.
Warmth encased her as his hand fell upon hers. She smiled, she was probably mad for bearing out her heart towards..to a complete stranger but he had taken care of her when she couldn't do it for herself. Took her madness, her violent action and still tried to calm her. "Everyday he'd inject me with drugs, made me inhale them. I smoked weed." Her eyes met his, to see his reaction to see if he was disgusted but there was only compassion and sympathy, the latter she didn't prefer but anything was better than disgust.
"At one point, I was able to escape when he and his gang members were too dazed out... But I soon realised, I had made a horrible decision, not that I escaped but ever meeting him at all. I was addicted..."
"At first I tried resisting it, my mind went haywire. I was living at my friend's. I had taken a waitressing job, my friend, she tried to help but she gave up, not that I blamed her. I did too. I started searching for the men that could provide me with drugs. I started to take them, sometimes I returned home intoxicated and sometimes I wouldn't. All the money I earned I spend on the drugs." Her fingers twitched at the thought of them, the feeling of them and sweat started to collect on her forehead. "I..I never saved my money, never paid bills. My friend pities me so she lets me stay. Guess in a way I was using it for my own advantage." She sighed, her eyes falling over the window that showed that dusk was nearing. She hadn't realised.
"Pathetic I know." She sighed, avoiding to look into his eyes.
"You can stay here." He stated suddenly. Brows furrowed at him in confusion. "I can help you... I want to." He added making her shake her head.
"I don't even know you." She stated the obvious. He shrugged. "I don't mind getting to know you. In fact, I'd love that." She chuckled as he smirked at her.
"More than anything, I think you need a professional help. Let me help you." She chewed on her lips wondering if she could trust the stranger again. "You can leave whenever you want. I will not stop you. But I think it'd be better for you to stay here while you seek help."
"Why are you helping me?" She asked on instinct.
He shrugged again, an action, she noticed he did often. "I want you to get better and in return I want nothing but to know you, beneath all the issues that reside." With a long stare and a phone call later to her friend, who actually seemed relief by her news, she accepted his offer.
"But I must warn you. You'll regret." She winked but the fear was obviously there.
"I don't think so, besides it's better than regretting not ever having to know you..."
And he did get to know her, everything about her. Like how she'd bite her lips when she was anxious or deciding on something. She'd laugh so loud whenever he'd tell her joke that he feared he'd go deaf, it was boisterous, real. Asian foods were her favorite, he had learnt to make a few for her. And she was a great painter, some of her paints now hung on his walls along with several photographs of them. The more he got to know her the more his infatuation grew. She had decided to take his help and was following the prescribed medication of the doctor.
But not all days were a bliss, some days she wouldn't return from her waitressing job and he'd have to drive searching around for her. It was one of those times he couldn't understand what to do and there'd be fights and violence from her, followed by often regrets and shame.
"That's it!" He shouted at her, clutching her wrists in a tight hold as he pushed her to the wall. "You're not going to that job anymore. In fact, you're not stepping out of this house without me." Her eyes widened as she glared at him with malice. "Who are you to stop me?!" Her struggling increased, uncaring if her wrists burnt. "Why do you care!"
"Because I love you, dammit!" He shouted on her face. Her eyes softened instantly as he rested his head against hers breathing her scent in as if he was an addict. "I love you so much and I cannot see you ruining your life." His lips brushed hers as he let out the words. The touch became strong as he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her with every bit of love he felt, the desire to possess her fueling beneath him making her forget the need for her drugs, during that time, all she wanted was his lips on hers, making her forget everything else..at least at that time she did.
"I love you too, Tristan." She whispered in between the kiss. "But I don't deserve you..."
She ended up leaving her job. She felt she was getting better, the intense craving eventually made her numb, unable to feel the warmth of the summer nor the love of the man she had given her heart to. "I am not upset with you." She had told him one day, "I am just not in the best of moods. Sometimes..I..I feel like I'm dying but still I crave that bloody powder like my life depends on it..it does." He had merely kissed her forehead and told her he loved her.
"No, doctor. That's absolutely not necessary." Tristan assured through the phone. "Except for the certain outbursts, she had been quite alright. Silent."
Too silent' His mind added in suspicion.
Shaking his head to get rid of the negative thoughts, he focused back on the call.
"Yes. Yes, I will. But I do not think, it will be necessary." With a smile on his face he opened the door of his house, quivering his brows seeing it half opened.
"Love, I'm home!" He announced his surprised arrival. "Look, what I bought for-" Speech left his tongue at the scene before him as the woman he thought was finally getting better sat on the chair of his dining table, his lighter held in one of her hand while her other was held in a fist as she snorted the white powder lying on top of her fist.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" He threw the bag of necklace on the floor marching towards her in rage. Kiara jumped out of her daze at the voice. Her eyes widened at the sight of a furious Tristan. Gulping, she took several steps away from him as he neared her with his thunderous footsteps.
"Tristan, I..I" His hand rose hitting the wall behind her, terrifying her to the core. His other hand clutched her jaw in a tight grip forcing her to look up at him. "For the last fucking time, clean yourself up and get rid of this self ruining craving. Do you get it?!" He shouted as she nodded swiftly, struggling to get away from his hold. "Say it, dammit."
"I..I I will not do it again. I promise." She said in vain as he let her go with a jerk.
A phone call and a glass of water later, he sat on his couch, running his hands through his hair waiting for her to return. By the mess on the dining table he found the pack of aspirin laid open, he couldn't get his mind around the fact that she used that as a replacement of her drugs. Light footsteps drifted his ears as he looked up to find her walking towards him clad in fresh set of clothes, her hair left wet as the little drops of water fell from her hair. "I will not do it again." Was the first thing she said, an apology bubbling inside her throat, she felt she had apologized enough.
"Of course you won't..." He sighed, leaning back against his couch. "Because I'm sending you to a rehab center."
"What?!" She exclaimed, anger invading her guilt as she looked at him like he was the one who needed to go to a rehab. "What right do you possess to do that?!" She lost it. Sure, she loved him and knew he wanted the best of her but she wasn't ready to just admit herself to a rehab center, she hadn't given him that much right. A huff left his lips as he stood up and made her way towards her form. Leaning until his face was directly opposite to hers he stated in a tone that left no room for argument. "You either do as I say, love. Or I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." Her eyes widened. Guess she expected too much after all, not that she blamed him, she was a burden to bear.
"And trust me when I tell you this, you will not be able to find a single job if I am to inform them of your condition. Make sure you have no place to stay..until you will have no choice but to return back to me." Trying not to give into his desire to comfort her, he maintained his posture in warning.
"I hate you..." She whispered, closing her eyes. "You're not any better than him." Wrong. Wrong. All false but she knew the words would effect, she wanted it to hurt him and it did as his eyes flashed with that very emotion before taking in a blank facade.
"We leave tomorrow. I expect you to pack your bags." With that he turned away from her, picking up the thrown gift from the floor as he marched towards his room closing the door shut with a bang, leaving her with her fears.
"How's her condition now doctor?" It's been a couple of weeks since she was sent to the rehab. He had wanted to meet her, but held himself back. He didn't know if he could stop himself from breaking his facade before her. But one call from Mrs. Gilberts broke all the emotions he had bottled up.
"Mr. Ryder..." The woman trailed away, looking at the worried gaze of the man before her. "Her condition seems to get worse. The lack of drugs has started to play with her mind, making her hallucinate. She's become violent and by now had hit two members of our staff. She's not taking the medications well either, we had force her to gulp it. We had no choice but to inject her with anesthetics." Tristan looked down on his feet as he sat before her, his heart clenching hearing the doctor speak, making him wonder if he had made a mistake sending her to a rehab at all.
"But if we continue this, it'll have adverse effect on her health. She might go into coma. We don't know what to do anymore to help her, Mr. Ryder." His head jerked up at her next words. "The correct procedure would be to send her to an asylum along with receiving treatment for her addiction."
"She's not crazy doctor." He gritted out. The doctor grimaced, passing him a sympathetic smile. "I think you should meet her, before..." Tristan stood up before she could continue.
"Just take me to her." A nurse appeared by his side as she helped him reach her cubicle that marked, 'Special cases.'
Standing outside her door, he took in a deep breath, trying not to breakdown and with a clench of his fists, he jerked the door open while the sight before him made his heart bleed. "Kiara..." He croaked out, as his eyes took in a woman that sat crouched on a plain white bed, her hair wet with sweat and stuck to her face. Her eyes that were once shining bright now had lost their spark, her lips pale, while her hands remained locked in her hair as she pulled at her scalp, rocking herself back and forth.
Entering the room, he tried again. "Kiara, baby look at me." Her eyes snapped alert as they met his and the next second she was in his arms, bawling her eyes out. "Tristan, please help me. Take me away." She begged, clutching him tightly around his waist, her head in the crook of his neck as she sobbed.
"The..They'll kill me, Tristan. Please, I'll do anything, please take me away." Tears broke out of his eyes, sliding through his face as he quickly brushed them away. Pulling her away from her embrace, he pushed the locks of her hair from her face as he placed his hands on either side of her face, staring into her bloodshot eyes.
"Trust me, you'll be alright. I have no choice, I-" His words came to a halt as his eyes fell on the bruise on her face as if slapped, making him lose it.
The peon cried out in pain as Tristan's fist came in contact with his face while his other hand remained wrapped around her waist holding her to his chest. "You fucking touch her!" He bellowed before throwing his furious eyes upon the doctor. "I want her out." He commanded, returning his gaze back to the peon in his early thirties. "I will put you behind bars for even thinking of touching her and this bloody center for letting it happen." With that he walked away, dragging her with him, regretting for ever putting her in that center in the first place, something he knew he'd never be able to forgive himself for. Their justification fueled his already increasing anger as the doctor said it was mistake and because she was getting out of control that the peon did what he did.
Laying her unconscious body at the edge of his bed, he kneeled on the floor clutching onto her hands as he sang the apologies of regret, kissing them like it was the last time he'd get to see her. "I should have killed him for even thinking of laying his hand on you." Tears streamed down his face as he didn't brush them away.
"I promise you, baby. You will get better." He murmured, against her face. "And don't you worry, I will never send you away from me this time... You will get better." He stated, pecking her lips.
She didn't get better...
"May be sending her away is the only option." His brother, Eric suggested as they sat on the couch with a glass of water in his hand which he pushed it in Tristan's direction. "You need to do what's right. You aren't even taking care of the work, not that that's the most important thing right now..but we're worried." He explained.
"I can't Eric." Tristan shook his head. "After what happened last time, I can't trust those people and I've promised to take of her myself." He winced at the bashed lip, as he took a tissue from the table cleaning the blood on his lip. She had lost control again and ended up scratching his lips when he denied to give her any drug. She had started to hallucinate that he was forcing himself upon her and sobbed for several minutes before attacking his face.
"How's she doing now?" Eric inquired seeing his state. "Asleep..." He muttered, a faraway look taking in his eyes. "Sometimes, she's too relaxed that I start worrying that I'd lose her to her misery and sometimes she's wild but if the abuse is towards me, I can still bear it but at times the craving is so much, I see lines across her wrists. I don't know what to do anymore. She'd scratch at her skin, I can see it driving her to her madness." He sighed.
"For starters I think, you should come talk to Dad and then search for someone who can treat her right here, at home." Tristan nodded numbly as Eric feared if he had even heard it before he announced that he had to leave, bidding him goodbye.
"She'll be alright." Eric assured as Tristan nodded. "She has to, if not I don't know what I'll do."
"You should eat this." He said, pushing the plate of food before her. She sat at the edge of the bed, rocking back and forth, holding onto the sheet of blanket in tight fists, her toes twitching while her throat burned for her drug. "Kiara, I'm talking to you." He pushed. Her chest constricted while she felt her body's temperature altering between extremely cold to hot.
"I don't need it." She whispered, her hand releasing it's hold to place itself on her chest, trying to rub away the sensations. Her head starting to ache while her body felt weak like there was a weight on her shoulder that wouldn't fall away. "Kiara..." Her other hand clutched onto her hair, pulling at her scalp as her face twisted in pain.
"Kiara!" He tried again as suddenly the plate was thrown away from the tray as it broke in several pieces, the food splattered on the floor.
"I don't fucking need it!" She shouted, standing up from her bed. Her bloodshot eyes shed tears as she neared him with the familiar begging gaze. "Please, just one. I need one dose. I..I'll do anything. Just give me one." Her hands clutched onto his collars in a tight fist. "No." He clipped. She stared at him as if in surprise.
"Then I don't need your food! I don't need you! I hate you!" She screamed. "I hate you. You ruined my life. I was perfectly happy with my life." She shouted at the top of her lungs as her voice reached to new heights.
"You call that bloody living!" He bellowed right back, his voice thundering across the house, "I saw you fucking passing out and nearly getting raped, and you call that living?!" She smiled suddenly, "I'm sorry okay? But you don't get it. It.. It's killing me." He moved away from her, shaking his head, bending down to pick up the broken plate pieces.
"Just give me, once..." She called out in a broken voice. The lack of response fueled her rage and in her loss of rationality she picked up the sharp broken piece of plate piercing it inside his shoulder. He let out a blood curling scream as he stood up instantly, taking the piece out of his flesh. Instead, she giggled, making his eyes widen at her state. "It's your fault for not giving it to me." She pouted.
"Will you give me now?" She asked innocently. "You've fucking lost your mind!" He growled out, pulling her by her arm as a frown took over her face. "Just give it to me."
"I will never." She started thrashing in his hold, her fists making contact with his chest as she hit him mercilessly and at one point tears started rolling down her face as she finally gave up, resorted to crying. "I hate you..." She said in between the sniffs as he simply let her go, walking away before turning to look at her who stilled for a moment tears falling from her eyes as she then wailed and her eyes fell upon. And at that moment he saw it, she had given up, her eyes pleading for him to make it all stop..to let her go.
Without a word, her turned away, closing the door shut and locking it behind him. "I bloody hate you, Tristan Ryder! You hear me?" Her screams made little effect compared to the banging on the door of his room. "Let me out!" She begged but to no use.
Wincing in pain as he struggled to clean the wound on his shoulder, he somehow managed to put a band-aid over it. Clutching onto the sides of the sink, he bent over it, sweat marring his forehead. He had had it enough, he thought. Standing back up, he made his way back to the kitchen. Enough of watching her suffer, enough of seeing her lose her mind, cry in pain and beg in misery.
And while he did not intend on giving up on her, he could not watch her in that state either. Fetching a phone from his pocket, he wrote one last text to his family members of a goodbye and of how much he loved his woman to let her go alone.
He kissed her forehead as he helped her with another spoonful of soup, his fingers wrapped tightly around the hold of the spoon. "What's the date today?" She asked with genuine interest. Couple of hours later, she sat exhausted on the bed and after several apologies towards him, she took the soup in gulps as he fed her, alternatively having the same soup himself.
"Twentieth August." He answered her instantly. She smiled.
"It's been a year since I met you..." She reminded as her lips twitched up in joy. "I should call it the meet-anniversary." She chuckled as breath caught in his throat at her words, his grip loosening as he stared into her gorgeous eyes that despite being dull, never failed to make his heart skip.
He was the worst boyfriend ever, he thought, reminiscing at that thought of what was to come, of what he was deciding for her 'and' himself.
"Tristan..." He hummed in response as she continued. "I know I don't deserve you. B..But I am glad I met you. And if I am ever able to get over this. I..I'd like to marry you..."
"Today is the day of the funeral for Mr. Tristan Ryder." The woman spoke, the cameraman taking the scene behind her.
"After the court decided to pardon him of killing his girlfriend, Mr. Ryder was found dead in his bathroom with his wrists bled open. The cops hadn't realised the occurrence until after several hours had passed without a sound from him and decided to break open the door only to find him dead on the floor of his bathroom and beside him lay a picture of him and his girlfriend."
"We're gonna have to ask you leave." Someone spoke behind her making her conclude.
"For more news on The Lover's Kill, continue watching our news..."
"Do you hate her?" Eric inquired, sparing a glance at his father before returning to look at the two graves before him.
"There's no denying it." His father spoke. "I hate my son more though." A tear slipped from his eyes. "But then, he had always been the one to love hard. Even if it meant to kill the one he loved just so they don't suffer anymore. After all, genuine love and sympathy can make one blind. And I guess he felt both towards her." Eric nodded at his father before speaking.
"He really did try and he was strong too, not enough to see her suffer but just enough to let her die...and kill himself after."