Captivated

Anger and Forgiveness

"Bastard...?" He asked, taken aback.

"Yes, bastard", I replied, sarcastically. I tried to lift myself up to lean against the backboard but was stopped by two large hands holding me down, my squirming futile.

"Arya, my love, you are injured", he said softly. "Please stay still".

"Stay still?"

His brows furrowed. "Yes".

"I'm injured", I repeated.

"Yes", Malik said gently. "Your leg-"

I placed my hand on his chest and gave a push which I knew he allowed to happen.

"How did that happen, Malik", I whispered. "I wonder how?"

He looked at me warily, unsure of what I was leading to.

"I am so angry right now", I breathed. "Words can't begin to describe it. The things-"

Malik took a step forward as my voice cracked but I held out my palm as if that would ward him off and took a deep breath.

"The things that have happened, the things he did, the things he would promise to do, do you know why he did them?" I asked, my voice thick with pain. "All because of you. You. Where were you, Malik? I was gone for a whole week, where were you?"

He looked at me with guarded eyes but said nothing.

"Where. Were. You?" I asked through gritted teeth. "Why did it take you a whole week to come and I had done most of the job for you by escaping as far as I did".

Malik sighed. "I didn't know-"

"So what was all that bullshit about mates and being from the same soul? You couldn't sense any of the shit that happened to me?" I asked incredulously. "This whole week you did nothing because you didn't know?!"

I scoffed in anger, my hands shaking. "He would've raped me and marked me. He hurt me so many freaking times, Malik and you didn't know?!"

Maliks fists clenched and I saw his veins protrude as he took a step closer. "He was going to what?!" He snarled.

"What else do you think he would've done with me? Huh? And he would've done it to get back at you, I'm a bystander in all of this but I got the shortest end of the stick. I'm caught in between this stupid little feud and I never wanted to be a part of this".

"Arya-"

"Don't you dare 'Arya' me!" I screamed, taken slightly aback by the sudden outburst of rage. My face flushed with blood and heat; the room seemed to spin as I struggled to contain my anger. "I wanted to die! I wanted to kill myself and I want you to feel the pain - a fraction of the pain I've experienced".

His face was ashen and his mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but nothing came out.

"I-" I stuttered. "I- I hate you".

The silence was heavy and thick. My chest heaved with the effort and I felt this strange sense of relief as if the heaviest mountain was lifted and my lungs were free. I gasped with the effort and allowed my body to go limp to feel some respite against the agony. The room was heavy and suffocating, each breath seemed to become more laborious.

My eyes closed as I tried to ignore the throbbing pain in my leg and they remained close as I felt Malik lift the covers covering my legs. With a gentleness one would never expect from a figure so imposing, my injured leg was lifted and placed on his lap. Flutters danced along the skin that his finger silently, tenderly traced along the edges of the wounds. With my eyes closed, it felt like gentle yet electric butterflies that stung but somehow brought life back to dying skin.

I remained impassive, stoic but I knew he could hear the slow rise of the beating organ in my chest. Regulating my breathing would hardly help, not when his fingers continued as they did.

"I am sorry", he said. "I do not deserve you. I'm sorry you had to suffer the way you did. I'm sorry that your fate was unfortunate enough to be tied to mine. I am sorry that you hate me the way you should. I am sorry".

Malik paused, the air heavy with tension.

"But, I am not sorry for being happy that you are my mate. The way you make me feel, Arya, I cannot explain, no words can piece together the sentences that I would love to tell you. I would kill everyone for you Arya, I would kill myself for you. My life has been lonely, and repetitive and you are the end to that cycle, the endless conundrum of pain, you are my cure, my saviour. I am sorry, sorry that I can never let you go".

My eyes opened and I gazed at the man pouring out his heart to me.

"I don't ask for you to forgive me, I ask for you to not despise me". He looked at me, his eyes fastened onto mine, gazing so deeply as if he could see the depths of my soul behind the thick fog of sorrow. I felt my heartstrings tug, slowly at first and then becoming harsher as I considered the possibilities. Despite my earlier proclamation of hate, I knew I could never hate him. The anger remained but it was overshadowed by the joy in my heart every time I glimpsed at him and knew he belonged to me. Maybe it was due to the bond that we shared, one that either of us had no choice over. Maybe in another world, we would've met under normal circumstances and be destined in a normal, boring way. Or maybe we would never have met. Regardless, I felt a stupid simmer, deep within me that this man who looked lovingly into my eyes meant more to me than the world and everything in it. More than my family, my cat and anything else I've ever loved.

In the space of two weeks, I had come to love a stranger harder than anything I have ever loved - an idea that simultaneously scared yet excited me. I tried to hold onto the anger, the rage, the fear, emotions that kept me alive but they trickled from my hands as if I was grasping onto water.

"I'll consider it", I respond, fighting off the smile teasing at my lips. I felt stupid, silly even. Much like a love-struck teenage girl, I was being dictated by my feelings of love and want.

The relief was palpable as he gazed over me lovingly, his stare tender and soft.

I was still angry, however, maybe my anger was best directed elsewhere.

Like the bastard who did this all. To me. To Malik. To anyone else whom he had hurt.

Mikhail.

I wanted him to suffer as much as I had.