“Payback? Ye dunno wot t’at truly is, girl.â€
They were ilms from each other now, and with his good hand he reached for the damnable gun she had yet to point in his direction. Scarred digits sought to pry it out of her grasp, while storm clouds stared unblinkingly at her.
â€I can fight back too, Asher.â€
A grin of wicked amusement stretched across his face. “Ye mean callin’ fer yer poor mummy t’protect ye? I bet she won’t. I bet she’ll jus’ curl up an’ cry. That’s wot t’ey do when they’re facing a demon. Turn into a sniveling mess an’ their child can only watch. Take this instance for example.†He lifted the gun straight at her, the barrel visibly shaking as he struggled to elicit a sharp gaze upon her. “Wot would dearest mother do at this moment, mmm? Beg fer her own life? Jump in front of t’bullet? Attack the one ‘olding t’bloody thing?†He paused, and that unkind smile only widened. “Or would it be ye? T’ child t’at fights back? Maybe ye got sum balls after all.â€
With a sudden movement that almost threw him off balance, the rogue hurled the gun through the open window with a furious snarl. His voice was a curious mixture between a catlike growl and a man’s throaty roar. Anger surged in the stormy waters that glared back at her, and with the final step taken his good hand reached forward to grab her arm tightly. He sought to curl fingers unkindly around her wrist and thrust his face close to hers. Had it not been his other arm was broken, her other wrist would have mostly likely been grabbed as well. “Do ye really want t’test that theory? Do ye really wanna see when I’m mad? Do ye?!â€
Sara hadn't ever seen him this angry. Never seen him act out in such a way while being so volatile and riled. Though he reached for the gun, she did struggle with it. But his wicked grin made her heart sputter unpleasantly. Not in a way that made her fluster and peek up at him with her cheeks warmed, but in such a manner that she couldn't shy away from him further if she tried. Her hips were back against the counter, her side against the window she had tossed the water on him out of.
Though her anger did drive her, it did nothing to refute the truths of her naturally frail body. Her eyes narrowed and she let out a grunt through gritted teeth as the gun was finally wrenched from her and tossed out the window. It clanged against the side of the house next door, his hand soon coming across her wrist. Spitting and spewing anger at her with their bodies pressed and the reek of vomit, alcohol, and body odor.
A stub on the bed, bandaged and covered in blood. Where once was a smooth, shapely leg was nothingness.
Her pupils dilated, his growls and insults still ringing in her ears.
Soft sobs as the phantom pangs kept her up at night, trying to muffle her sobs into the pillows. Trying not to wake her children.
"You..."
"I'm so sorry Sara..."
"You...!"
"It didn't work, darling. The boneweed didn't work."
"Don't you dare speak of her like that to me."
With her free hand, no longer fearing for her safety even though he could very easily hurt her, it rose up to slap him. Hard. Right across his cheek while her eyes brimmed with angry tears as they flashed darker with her memories that swam in her head. Of the kindly, drawn features hallowed with pain and agony as she was restricted to bed rest...
Asher was making her say red. The slap felt good, even if she would regret it later. Even if he abused her then and there. She'd never regret slapping him. Not this time.
He knew immediately he had struck a nerve. The fierceness in her eyes betrayed such, long before the growing fury surged through a voice devoid of even a hint of stutter. It was clear, how much she cared about her mother, and amidst the drunken anger that had become him, a sweet spark of jealousy curled around his heart.
Smack!
Greasy strands draped over his face, and water dripped silently on the ground from his sodden clothes and hair. For a brief moment he simply became immobile, visibly stunned by the unexpected display of retaliation Sara performed. Multiple nerves had been struck it seemed, judging from the furious tides that flowed from her eyes. Asher carefully released her wrist, trembling with barely suppressed fury… and lunged at her. Stormclouds billowed with proverbial thunder as a bestial snarl exploded from his mouth and his arm moved to strike her across the face. A powerful backhand blow in which he’d seen many times used on others, including himself.
Air tickled the space between his hand and her cheek, where time suddenly froze. His good hand was quickly withdrawn in a sharp movement, as if he’d been struck again, and realization gradually trickled through the anger that boiled through his mixed blood. An unsteady step back was taken, Asher’s face a twisted mixture of frustration and shock behind heavy furrowed brows. What had he—
Wham!
Unable to hold back regardless, his fist collided with the wall behind him and agony laced up his limb. Not a mark appeared on the surface, but the skin of his knuckles split open and pain flooded through his system. A sharp reminder of what would have collided into Sara. Cream-furred spires pressed painfully against the sides of his shaved head, and glittering oceanic orbs glared at the wall. In and out, his chest heaved with slow and angry breaths and his nostrils flared as he struggled to contain the alcohol-induced rage that continued to flow relentlessly through his system. His good arm remained pressed against the wall, knuckles firmly pressed, yet still it trembled.
“I...â€
He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t stand to see that tear-stained visage he’d seen far too many times. It’s not yer fault. A constant reminder of past tribulations, the halfbreed leant heavily against the wall and pressed his head against the stalwart surface, bowed with a sudden violent and heavy pang of regret.
Asher knew what he’d almost done, and it sickened him. For but a brief moment, he’d almost become exactly like him. A tremor coursed through taut shoulders and a ragged hiss! shot through gritted teeth as he wrestled with an internal demon. Anger continued its despicable advancement through his system, a tempting croon that he could not silence. Thud! His fist collided with the wall again, and another breath was sharply inhaled in response to something other than the fresh wave of agony. Tasting something dreadfully close to emotion, the halfbreed swept back greasy bangs with the back of his bleeding hand and slowly stumbled for the stairs. Anywhere was suddenly better than here beside Sara. He needed to get away from her. He was unsafe like this. A shower? Great. Maybe it would clear his head.
“…fine.â€
And with that, the halfbreed stumbled drunkenly for the stairs, his vision blurring as another spell of dizziness overcame him, coupled by the cold pit of disgust that settled within an abused gut. Crimson dripped from his hand, but he cared little enough to even inspect it. His cheek stung, somehow far more painful than the split knuckles of his hand.
This time, he’d really fucked up.