Dalaric

Twenty-Four: "𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙖-𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙨."

"Have no fear of perfection - you'll never reach it."

- Salvador Dali

So beautiful. My eyes are stuck on her as my mind contemplates the importance of my job over the comfort she gives me. I'm in too much of a comfortable position right now to want to move. She's so fucking warm against my skin, and she's subconsciously hugging my head towards her chest. Her beautiful, soft chest.

Fuck. I hungrily take in the sight of her, her hair splayed out around her head, some strands on her chest that I've come to crave. They're perfect. They're just the right size for my hands, and I know she's insecure about them by the way she avoids changing in front of me. They're so perfect. Perfect enough to hold too. But she'll run away again. Crazy girl.

My hands reluctantly leave her body, making Mayella furrow her brows and search around with her eyes still closed. I take the bigger fat penguin and let her hold on to it, which instantly makes her sigh and subtly squeeze the stuffed animal.

After I wrap her up in the sheets, I kiss her forehead and make sure her nutritional tablets and water are on the bedside table.

Walking towards the closet, I grab a bag and load a few bullets along with a silencer and scope. I cringe at how fucking hard this is going to be, not shooting the target in the head but just keeping him barely alive.

I don't thrive on people's pain. I don't want to fucking watch him bleed. I want to blame Dan for this, but I can't- he's just following orders. We're all following orders.

I followed orders.

Making sure everything is in order and sending a quick text to Jan, I furrow my brows when I hear a yawn from behind me.

Mayella rubs her eyes and yawns again, clutching the fatter penguin tighter before frowning at my hand that's on the doorknob. She puts both her hands straight forward, clenching her fingers and showing me those damn doe eyes. Fucking hell, of course she wants a hug.

"Please stay safe." I pick her up with the sheets still around her and she clings on to me like a damn koala. I just wanna be here, with her.

"I will." She sniffles, her early morning mood appearing. I wipe some drool off the side of her mouth and kiss the top of her head, setting her face in the crook of my neck.

"I'll be here, babycakes. Waiting. Along with Mr. Jones Senior and Junior."

The thought of having someone to come home to never occurred to me before. The feeling, that someone genuinely wants to fucking be with you and will wait, even when worrying, is something I only crave with her.

Only with her.

"Okay." Not knowing what else to say, mainly because of how fucking constricted my throat feels, I set her down on the bed, wanting nothing more than to lay with her. Fuck. If I can't leave my girl for three damn hours, the fuck am I going to do when she'll leave.