18. Sharkie
Date: 5-14-2024
Time: 1704
I wasn’t jealous, and yes, I’m still seething over that comment even two hours later. Everything feels so different. I want to blame it on my feminine side. The part of me that begs for a normal life and real human connections. I want to be able to feel everything I'm supposed to at twenty-four years old: joy, irritation, excitement, hurt. But I don't know how to project those notions. I was taught not to have them, they've always stayed. Judging by the chest-shaking laughs and tension lining Tide's shoulders every so often I think I've been doing it right even if I know I shouldn't. Okay, so maybe I was jealous and this odd thing inside of me became determined to gain Tide's attention, but I will never admit that out loud.
Knowing me, I chose Game of Thrones. What can I say? It’s a comfort show and even while I haven’t shown it, I do indeed need comfort. I used to envy Karma or anybody for that manner for the confidence they had. I even used to mimic them, but once I had my own I felt free and uniquely me. It didn’t last for long. How do you stay yourself when everything you thought you knew completely changes?
No, wait, it didn’t change. This isn’t some fairy tale where the villain ends up being good. I’m not going to let him live because he’s a strategic soldier who knows all the right moments to plant false information in my head.
It’s kind of hypocritical to think the way I do while I’m lying beside him, fully stuffed with so much junk food I can’t even see and a little buzz of the half bottle of … What was it called? Gin . I wonder what my parents would say if they saw me now. Would they be upset?
Usually, I hate my quiet time being interrupted, but I don’t mind the dozens of questions he’s asked throughout it all. I’ve never truly had someone take an interest in something I like. Hopefully, he fell asleep because now I think I’ve let myself feel too much at once for the wrong person.
“What’re you thinking about?”
Nope, he’s not asleep but I still don’t want to look over at him. I hate how it seems like he can see through me some days. Taking a breath I look in his direction, I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol causing my cheeks to warm and my heart to race or if it’s seeing him laid on his side with his head propped on his hand. Every chiseled muscle of his chest flexes as he breathes and a stray wild hair falls over his brow.
”Is Moe your brother?” I ask, trying to come up with anything to keep myself from thinking about how much heat his body is radiating.
“Sort of.”
I let out a huff. I should’ve known he wouldn’t give me anything to go off of. A smile stretches across his mouth, turning higher on one side than the other.
“He was left at the front of the base when he was just a baby.”
“That’s sad.”
I turn fully to my side, mirroring his position. He chuckles with one of those half-hearted sounds. I can do this. Holding a conversation won’t hurt anything. He’s the enemy. I won’t focus on how the sheets make the green in his eyes pop.
“My mother brought him in, my father didn’t fight, the rest is history.”
I nod my head, understanding. I’ve never known much about his mother, all that was exposed was how she was the one who kept his father on a tight leash. From what I understand, they had a relationship like my parents. There was one file I came across long ago of his father waterboarding a man just for touching his mom the wrong way. My parents weren’t as violent, but it’s sweet in a sick, twisted way.
“He didn’t get much time with her, though. Cancer is the worst evil there is, I guess.” He pauses, shrugging the shoulder that isn’t relaxed on the bed. “Besides you, of course.”
I scrunch my nose, punching him in the chest. Instead of taking my chance to inflict pain, it is light. I can’t keep looking at his stupid face. He’s too distracting, yet I can’t tear myself away either.
“He likes you; you know?”
“I like him too. He doesn’t piss me off like you do.”
His responsive hum is unfocused. I can feel his eyes trail my form, making me shiver like it’s his hands touching me instead.
“You were trying to swim after someone…” The low rumble of his voice pulls my attention to how his lips curve around the words. My stomach churns from the statement. I know he's expecting me to elaborate, to explain but–
“You almost died going after him.” He continues, I can't look him in the eye anymore. I've tried to push back that memory– him . It’s too personal, I shouldn't talk to Tide about the things he has no right knowing. Then again, he's told me things he shouldn't have either.
“Daymen.” I say quietly. Hearing his name out loud hurts more than it should or maybe it's just the idea of knowing I couldn't save him. I bring my sight back up to tides with a smile that does little to hide my inner turmoil.
“I don't have many people in this world.” I speak the words more to myself than I do to him, focusing on the wall past his head so he can't see my weakness. It's a reminder of everything he's taken while he's been allowed to protect the rest of the people he cares for. How can someone so evil make you feel so much at once? Anger, sadness… happiness. My fingers bunch into my shirt.
Pulling me from my thoughts he brushes his knuckles along my cheek, pushing a stray hair behind my ear.
Damn it, Sharkie.
“Yes, you do.” His voice is firm, bringing my attention to the soft gleam reflecting in his eyes from the TV, unknowing of the way the words affect me. Just as quickly as his hand is on me, it's gone. I hate the way I want to lean into him for more. I lay back, letting my head fall on the pillow.
“Why do you fight against us?” I ask, my hands landing on my stomach. For once, I let my thumbs brush over each other in view. It's a tick Dutton couldn't take away, it keeps me grounded on something physical that I know is real. Being able to feel the rough texture of the pad of my thumb turn into the hard lining of my nail in slow circles helps even my breathing. His body shifts away, surely remembering who I actually am because now there’s a space between us that feels like we’re standing on opposite sides of the ocean.
“What type of question is that?” He mumbles, each syllable carrying the rage he hides. Just when I think there is something– as dangerous as an idea it is–he has to go and fuck it up. Or is it me? I don’t fucking know, but I do know I’m furious. How can he treat me like a human but not realize the damage he’s done?
“Your faction is the whole reason the world is why it is. You’re always so greedy, taking what you don’t deserve and when you don’t get what you want you throw a tantrum, destroying everything in your way!”
I toss up my hands and my body follows the action as my voice grows with every word.
“Your father was known for having a temper. What was it? Was it because they had a ship in your waters? Was it because you wanted the land, too?”
Suddenly, my prison cell sounds more inviting than this right here. Before I can fully stand, his hand is on my wrist, and I’m being yanked towards the bed with such a force my head jerks back. He kneels on the mattress making a very obvious dent in the sheets, but he looks at me with those deep green eyes and something flashes over them.
“What are you talking about, Cordelia ?” He asks through clenched teeth. Why does everyone here act like I’m the person in the wrong? They look at me like I’m trying to set the world on fire, but he hasn’t looked at me like that in a while. It hurts honestly, in ways it shouldn’t. This is why I hate feelings.
“Yes, the first war was unfortunate. However, what happened to your parents–to you–isn’t some childish ‘tantrum’. I already told you we didn’t do it.”
While he’s speaking, I try to yank my arm away, but his grip only gets tighter. Nothing makes sense.
“Let me go.”
I’m tired of this back and forth. He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about and I’m not going sit here and argue with an idiot.
“Unfortunately for you I’ll never be able to let go, so you might as well get used to it.”
I hate him, I always have, so I don’t know why now it feels like I’m forcing myself to remember the fact. He raises his free hand in my direction, causing me to jerk my head to the side out of instinct.
“Just talk to me, make me understand.” His voice lowers to a whisper, the pad of his thumb brushing against my throat where that stupid minor cut has already healed. My chest swells with the breath I take. I don’t know what possesses me, maybe it’s spite or maybe it’s the monster inside finally breaking its way out but I gather saliva in the corner of my mouth, spitting it onto his chest.
“The first war wasn’t unfortunate. It was a product of pure insanity. Chaos was what your father made it, all because he didn’t like the idea of being kept under wraps. Just because you call it Depth now doesn’t mean your slate is wiped clean.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm, relishing in the ticking of his jaw while he drags his finger along the wet streak on his chest with a look of pure disdain on his face. Not so obsessed now, is he?
“Our vows were simple: clean the mess, protect the land and sea, and be nothing more to the world than a calling card if they need it. To provide and protect in secret. It’s never enough for you guys though.”
“Is that what you call it? Providing, protecting? If I recall correctly all you do is kill those who are upholding their vows.” The mockery in his tone sets my teeth on edge. We mock each other regularly. It’s a language between us, but now it feels… it feels... Why is it so hard to breathe? I’ve avoided the feeling of drowning for days, but at this moment water is surrounding me and I can’t keep my head above long enough. I can feel my chest expanding, but nothing is happening. Everything’s a blur. It shouldn’t feel like this. Maybe I can just kill him now and get it over with.
“I’ll never deny the first incident, but I’m not apologizing for the second. You need to get your pretty little head checked if you believe we didn’t learn from Chaos.”
“You’re not doing this, you’re not twisting me against what I know. They’re dead. It’s your fault, it’s all–” I try to take a step back because I can’t even recognize my voice through the choked-back sob, but he’s still holding on tight enough I think I’ve lost feeling in my fingers.
“I see.” His voice is so close I’m sure it’s in my ear. All I can feel is pressure around my body and a heavy thumping against my chest. I hate him, especially now that his scent is sticking to me and my chest is slowly mimicking his.
“Do you know how my father made his war dogs? Torture, not training. It's manipulative. The pain mixed with whatever tactic he chose.” He pauses with a grunt when I try to punch him in the stomach. I know what he’s getting at, but it’s not true. “He could force a brain to believe false information. In the end, it gave him full control of the person. They’d never turn, and they’d follow through with their mission. It took me a while to understand the extent to which it messed with a person's head until I pulled Sam from prison.”
“Shut up.” I snap back with my hands pressing against his chest, not because I want him to move but because I want to at least feel like I’m trying to get him away. My heart hammers so hard in my ears that my head throbs with it. It’s just another trick.
“All their pent-up frustration from their abuser went out on innocent lives. They were rewarded when they succeeded and beaten when they failed. I never claimed my father was a good man, but I think there's someone in your life that's just the same.”
“I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”
“You're triggered right now. You're safe Cordelia, just trust me. I need you to breathe.” he whispers, ignoring my threat. I want to cry, scream, and fight all at once, but I can’t move.
I don’t need someone to protect me. I’m not some damsel even if I’m a little in distress. Every word he says is false. If it was true, then that would mean everything was for nothing.