Chapter 7 #2
There was a maddening fizz in her headphones on the way back.
It’d been there for a while, but now it was impossible to ignore.
Eris turned the music off. There was fifty-something pounds in her pocket.
That could’ve bought her a decent new pair.
Denny was so distracted she wouldn’t even have noticed.
But Eris had developed an inexplicable sense of loyalty towards the girl, and her conscience, which had never been an issue before, was now holding her back.
It was funny, because she had done much worse than rob people.
She’d intentionally got into fights just so she’d get to hurt someone, blow off the maddening steam that often built up within her by drawing blood and screams, walking out of it with her own share of bleeding, but feeling alive and soothed.
Now she was hesitating to procure herself a lousy pair of headphones.
If Denny had so much as suspected Eris needed them, she would’ve personally bought her new headphones without hesitation.
And Eris was tempted to ask, because she relied on her headphones to do pretty much anything that required leaving the house, but Denny had already been way too generous with her and her pride was starting to feel a bit too much like guilt.
The turquoise facade of Tansy’s Garden appeared in the distance, with its cascades of greenery and flowers along the walls. It wasn’t until she was in front of it that she heard voices coming from inside.
One voice. Loud and masculine. Angry.
Through the large windows, she saw a man towering over Denny, yelling.
Eris rushed in through the open doors. Where was that useless Italian idiot?
“Sir, I told you to keep them in a cool place if you wanted them to last that long!” Denny’s polite tone carried a slight quiver.
“They were supposed to be a gift! I want a refund!” the man exclaimed, brandishing a bouquet so battered it was raining petals all over the floor.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. I—”
“I did as you said and they wilted!”
“They’d be fine if you’d done as I told you.”
“Listen up, you little cu—”
When the man’s hand seized Denny’s arm, Eris saw red.
She stormed toward him and tore him from Denny, shoving him back to plant herself in front of him with a blazing glare. Anger simmered inside her, an itch under her skin that contracted her hands into shaking fists yearning to strike.
‘Make her stop screaming! Make her stop, bloody hell!’
The guy was visibly put off by the intrusion, his stance losing boldness as he took in Eris’ figure. She could feel Denny’s presence behind her, tense and shaken. The blood in her veins boiled. The only reason she hadn’t punched the tosser yet was that she didn’t want to cause Denny any trouble.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Eris stood in his face. Someone who can and WILL hurt you if you get near her again.
The guy’s nostrils dilated like a raging bull’s. A sense of deja vu fogged up Eris’ head.
‘Shut up, you stupid cunt! Just SHUT THE FUCK UP! What does a man have to do to have some bloody PEACE in this house?!’
Excruciating pain. Red. Iron. Screams.
‘You killed her! YOU KILLED HER!’
Darkness.
Silence.
Eris squeezed her eyes, chasing the dizziness away.
The man bolted in her direction. Muscle memory took over common sense. Before she knew it, Eris was jamming the guy into the wall, holding him by the lapels of his coat. He was taller than her, and bigger, but she had handled much worse.
Her fingers flexed, longing for familiar steel, but her knife lay in Denny’s jewellery box, and probably for the best.
The man jerked under her. Eris pressed a forearm to his throat and rammed a knee between his legs, gloating at how it drained the colour from his face.
She rolled her shoulders back. The adrenaline was kicking in.
She’d almost forgotten how addictive it was: the rush of perverse excitement, the thrill of danger, the hunger for pain, to cause it and to feel it—to feel anything at all…
“Eris.” A soothing whisper in her ear snapped her from her seething anger. Denny was behind her, pinching the sleeve of her hoodie, a little leaf against a storm.
And yet the storm relented.
As soon as Eris’ grip loosened, the guy hastily pushed her off and scrambled to the door.
“You’re going to get a shit review for this!”
“We’ll reply accordingly,” Denny retorted, her hand lingering on Eris’ sleeve like a calming anchor.
The man slammed the rotting bouquet to the ground and stalked out, gritting out insults under his breath.
Denny was shaking. She had never looked so pale. Eris grabbed her by the arms, gazing urgently into her eyes.
“I’m fine.” Denny’s tone was meek but firm. “I’m fine, I swear. I’m just not used to being treated like that.”
Eris surrendered to a half smile. No, you’re not, are you?
She cupped Denny’s face to make sure everything was truly okay. Her heart missed a beat when Denny’s hand laid upon her own as she nodded.
Eris’ bloodlust surged again. She couldn’t conceive how anyone could have the gall to harm such a gentle soul.
“What in the sapphic hell is going on here?”
They both turned to the door. Rocco stood there with his hands on his hips and a judgemental frown in his brow.
* * *
“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
Rocco had been out on a delivery. He couldn’t be blamed in any way for what had happened, but he seemed sincerely upset nonetheless.
“Rocco, I need you to do the deliveries. It was just a fussy customer.”
Fussy was the understatement of the year. His aggression had paralysed Denny, who was strong and capable, but definitely not used to hostility. Perks of being born beautiful and wealthy.
“Besides,” Denny added, “my guardian angel handled it like a champ.”
Eris preened.
“Okay, kudos to the Hellhound! Guess we have scary dog privilege now.” Rocco ducked just in time to dodge Denny’s smack to the back of his head.
“Let’s get cracking. Mrs Dabrowski’s coming to collect her centrepieces at 5!”
Eris gave Denny a chocolate bar, making sure she ate it before taking the rest of the groceries upstairs.
Entering Denny’s flat was always like stepping into a fairy realm, with its profusion of plants and the shabby chic interiors in shades of white, pink, and turquoise.
Eris’ all-black aesthetic was an eyesore in the middle of that.
Eris had never lived in a place that looked so little like her, but she had also never lived in a place that made her feel so welcome.
After putting the groceries away, she had a quick shower, slipped into a pair of leggings and her favourite Metallica hoodie, and got dinner started. Unlike Denny, she wasn’t a good cook, but practice was helping her improve. She could thank a pretty talented teacher, if rather chaotic.
When Denny cooked, she went back and forth to check the recipe fifteen times before getting anything done. All Eris had to do was read the measurements and steps once to memorise them.
She had adopted Denny’s vegetarian diet, mostly because it was more practical for meal prepping.
It also seemed fair to respect the beliefs of the person who had put a roof on her head and was paying for the food on her plate.
The meat and fish she was used to eating weren’t the healthy kind, anyway.
At 7:10, Eris heard the keys drop in the wooden plate by the door.
“Honey, I’m home!”
You fucking clown, she huffed to herself while lifting the lid of the pan to check inside.
“Smells good in here!” Denny sidled up to her to inspect how the rice was turning out. She hummed approvingly at the small sample she stole. “Let me pop into the shower real quick. I’ll be right back and set the table!”
‘Real quick’ could mean anything in Denny’s dictionary.
Her penchant for getting distracted by the most insignificant things was one of the aspects Eris struggled most to digest. ‘Focus!’ She wanted to scream a hundred times a day, but experience had taught her that Denny’s ability to focus was directly proportional to how invested she was in an activity, meaning something as trivial as showering could take anywhere from five to fifty minutes.
During Denny’s ‘real quick’ shower, Eris took care of the table, filled the plates, put the leftovers in a container, and washed what couldn’t go in the dishwasher, all the while enjoying a free live concert of Imagine Dragons’ greatest hits from the bathroom upstairs.
Denny had countless qualities, but singing just wasn’t one of them.
Eris didn’t know why she always ended up humming along with her.
* * *
The paella was surprisingly good, save for the beans, which Eris didn’t like and had refused to add. She cooked a separate portion of those.
“What do you have against beans?” asked Denny.
Eris meaningfully pointed her fork at the small green pile on the border of Denny’s own plate. What do you have against artichokes?
“Sometimes artichokes are too chewy. I don’t like the texture of these.”
It happened to be the same reason as Eris’. After a quick assessment, they unspokenly agreed to trade the respective unwanted parts.
Denny was tired. Eris could tell because she wasn’t nearly as chatty as usual. It was in her eyes, too: a dullness, a fragile tension that wasn’t normally there. It reminded Eris of how her own nerves felt after a prolonged exposure to the world: thin crystal on the verge of shattering.
After dinner, she insisted on taking care of the dishes and shooed Denny out of the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, she found her on the couch with her current romance novel and Downton Abbey on the TV.
Their peaceful evenings, each with her own source of entertainment, were her favourite part of the day.
The chin chin biscuits were close second. The herbal tea was growing on her, too.
Two beers from the six-pack she had bought stared at her every day from the bottom of the fridge. Three more sat in the pantry, waiting for an upgrade that never came.