A sad laugh took over me. “He would never hurt me… at least not physically. He’s mostly responsible for the emotional and mental scars no one can see… well, except you, for some weird reason.” I opened my eyes a little, watching him stare at me with a serene gaze. I smiled and added, “Some weird, supernatural, gut reason.”
Elio raised a brow, going silent but still teasing my skin with his fingers; I closed my eyes, relaxing into the feeling as he spoke again, voice deep and soft.
“Do you want to know something?”
“Yeah, I can’t be the only one doing the revealing thing,” I said with a smile.
“It is not much of a revelation, just an observation.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Do you recall when you assumed I had the genes that do not exist? The serial killer ones?”
“Yup, when you proceeded to say words I’ve never heard before?”
“Hm. I figured if there were genes like that, I would have them.”
I frowned slightly but didn’t open my eyes. “Why do you think that?”
“I have peculiar thoughts on occasions when I shouldn’t have peculiar thoughts. It sometimes shocks me, and sometimes it makes me feel… more alive. Sometimes I have a strong urge to go through with them, to hurt someone because I like something about… them.”
I opened my eyes slightly, just enough to see him; his face was still relaxed, no frown, no smile, just calm.
“Like a serial killer’s victim type?” I asked.
He nodded.
I didn’t know why I asked what I asked next, but I wanted to understand what he was saying. “What would yours be?”
“Mostly women,” he stated. “With good hair. I feel like they would be my target.” His gaze met mine and held. He didn’t say anything for a while, and I didn’t say anything either; his hand lifted, and his fingers fell into my hair, gently feeling the texture, his voice softening as he said, “Does that scare you, Zahra?”
“To be honest, yeah. A little… bit,” I answered.
He removed his hand from my hair and swallowed, and I could see that he was blocking whatever made him feel like he could reveal that to me. “That was not my intention; I won’t repeat it.”
“No, no, it’s—it’s, uh… it’s okay; I want to know what goes on in that head of yours, even though it’s weird—but as long as you haven’t—you know…”
“Killed a woman because of her hair?”
“Yeah…”
“No, I haven’t. I won’t. I will never. It’s just that sometimes the thought—comes and goes.”
I nodded. “Have you ever had that thought with me?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t like your hair at first. But your friend, though…”
“Milk?”
“Hm. She has beautiful hair.”
I didn’t know why I laughed. “Noted; I’ll ask her to stay away from you.”
His hand fell to my stomach again, rubbing with the pad of his fingers and grazing with his knuckles. “You do not have to do that; I won’t hurt her.”
I closed my eyes again, trying to snuggle into him. “I know. I’ll hurt you first before you think twice about it.”
And then it went comfortably quiet between us for a few minutes; I was already drifting off before he broke the silence.
