Chapter Eleven
Zexion dresses a few of the fresher wounds and re-wraps my palms. He gives Axel a little jar of gel and tells him to apply it to any open wound twice a day till it heals. He turns back to me after I've pulled my shirt back on. I can't bring myself to look into his eyes.
"I'll have someone bring those glasses by tonight," he says. I nod. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with Axel alone." I look over to Axel.
"Yeah. Uh…just go do…whatever, alright?" Axel instructs. Silently, I get up and head out the door.
"It was lovely meeting you, Iris," Zexion calls quietly.
"You, too," I reply out of formality, not sincerity before shutting the door most of the way behind me. I turn to walk down the hallway, but change my mind. Instead, I flatten myself against the wall near the door and wait to hear what Zexion wants to tell Axel. It's silent for a moment before he speaks.
"Axel," he starts. He sounds absolutely exasperated. "Please help me try to understand what you could possibly have been thinking."
"What do you mean?" Axel asks.
"What do I mean? What do I mean? Axel, are you stupid? She is Iris Weatherly, or does that mean nothing to you?"
"I know who she is, Zex, but in case you haven't looked around lately, it doesn't really matter who she is anymore." I furrow my brow. What does he mean by that? Isn't it obvious? You were overpowered and are now nothing more than Axel's slave. My stomach clenches and I ball my fists up in anger.
"Even if you really believe that, she's a virgin, Axel. Are you really that sadistic?" This time, Axel sighs.
"Look, I didn't know that. We're not having sex, though, so does it really matter?" Zexion laughs.
"You're not having sex now, but how long is that really going to last for you, Axel?"
"I'm not going to fucking rape the girl, Zexion," Axel snarls.
"So you're just going to have a very pretty servant who you're not going to sleep with?" the smaller man asks, laughter still in his voice. Axel growls lowly.
"I'm hoping she'll eventually be willing." My skin goes clammy and I scoff silently. Fat chance.
"And you'll be fine with being the one to take that girl's virginity given her situation? Have you no shame?"
"I don't know what's going to happen, alright? This is a weird situation for me too, in case you haven't noticed." Axel's voice has softened and he sounds as exhausted as Zexion.
"I know," he says softly. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to lecture you. This is just an odd situation all the way around." They're both silent for a minute. "Why'd you buy her, Axel?"
"What?"
"You had to have known her name before you brought her home. Why'd you do it then?" Axel doesn't answer right away, and I find myself listening very intently, not wanting to miss what he says.
"I don't know, Zex. I really can't explain it. It was like, from the moment I saw her, I just had to have her. I felt like she was some kind of magnet and I couldn't bring myself to walk past her. It was like I was a moth to a flame or some other cheesy cliché." Both men laugh, but I feel my stomach clenching further. I hear what he's saying, but I don't understand him. I'm feeling extremely uncomfortable. Time to leave. You don't want to hear this. I nod and head down the hall.
I decide to explore a few of the closed doors along the hall. I find another bedroom, another bathroom, a locked door, a very impressive library that I know I'll have to check out later since I'm too riled up to read right now, and finally a room with a beautiful piano.
I fully enter this room and leave the door half open behind me. Like his office, the back wall is made of windows overlooking the backyard. I stand at the window and look out. There's a stone fountain in the center of the yard with immaculately tended flower beds around it. Willow trees line the perimeter of the yard, and I'm awestruck by the simple beauty of them. Despite it being November, the yard gives off the impression of it being spring.
Once I've had my fill of looking, I turn back to the room. The piano is in the center of the room. There are two overstuffed armchairs with a small oval table in front of them near the windowed wall. Next to the chairs is a row of bookshelves. Upon closer inspection, I find them to hold books of sheet music. On the opposite wall is an elaborate stereo system with more CD's than I can count on the shelf next to it.
I make my way back to the piano and sit down. I slide my fingers along the keys without pressing down on any and smile. I press down on a note softly and let its sound caress me. I close my eyes. I never knew I'd miss such simple sounds so much. When the note dies, I hesitantly bring my hands into position. I play a few opening notes to a favorite song and glance at the door. No one's there, so I feel my confidence rise a bit. I never was able to play in front of people. I start over, fully playing the opening bars. The song starts off sad and slow, but picks up soon after. I start to lose myself as the music washes over me and start playing with gusto. I smile to myself as the song reaches its crescendo. A bit later, the song ends, but I keep my fingers on the keys, relishing the moment and feeling.
A slow clap starts from the doorway. I snap my head up and see Axel leaning against the doorframe, his hands clapping together, his eyes on me. I drop my hands from the keys and look away from him, completely embarrassed.
"How long have you been standing there," I ask, a bit annoyed.
"Long enough. Come on, I have a tailor here to measure you for clothes."
"How about some dinner?" He asks after the tailor has gone. I nod vigorously, suddenly starving. We enter the dining room, and there's already a plate of sandwiches on the table with a bowl of soup in front of my and Axel's spots. There's also a large bowl of colorful cut up fruits. Before even sitting down, I pluck a strawberry out of the bowl and pop it into my mouth, enjoying the sweet, tangy taste. I sit and we start eating, a comfortable silence permeating the room.
"You play really well," Axel says a while later.
"What?" I ask, surprised by his voice in the silence.
"Piano. You play really well," he repeats.
"Oh, thank you," I say as I look up into his face.
"How long have you been playing?"
"Since I was six, so thirteen years. My mom made sure all of us played an instrument, a sport, and had some other hobby. How about you?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Huh? Oh, I don't play."
"Uh…why do you have a piano then?" I ask, confused. He shrugs.
"Seemed like the thing to have when I bought it. I tried to learn, but I gave up after a few tries. Just wasn't my thing. It makes for a nice room, though, doesn't it?"
"It does," I agree, thinking our conversation is done. He surprises me, though.
"You said 'all of us,'" he says, posing a question without actually asking.
"Yeah. There's me, my brother, and my sister. They're both older than me." Axel nods. Suddenly, I feel like talking about them, and I can't stop myself. "My sister plays piano, like me, but was never really good. She put her energy into sports. She got really into fighting, you know, like kickboxing and a few martial arts. She didn't pick up another hobby, but our parents didn't mind since she did all those sports."
"And your brother?" he asks. He sounds genuinely interested.
"He's the complete opposite of our sister, but he's really good at just about everything he does. He plays too many instruments to name. He picked up swimming as his sport and is awesome at it. He writes. Lyrics, poetry, stories, you name it. He enjoys sketching, but it's definitely not his main interest. He's good at it, but it's not something he's ever really focused on."
"You speak really highly of him," Axel says. I nod.
"Yeah. I'd probably say he's my favorite."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"What other things do you do?"
"Oh," I say, shifting. "Well, I play piano, but you know that. I do archery. I'm alright at it, I guess. I dabbled in ice skating, but quit after falling on my butt too much for my liking," I trail off. I sound really lame, I know, so I decide to toot my own horn for a minute. "I paint, though. I paint really well. Well…I like to think I do. I've been told I do, too."
"You paint?" Axel asks, interest all over his face. I smile a little.
"Yeah. I mean, I haven't in a while obviously, but I do." A grin splits his face.
"Well look at that! We actually do have something in common," he exclaims excitedly.
"You paint?" I ask, surprised. He nods enthusiastically. "Huh. I never would've guessed. Don't take this the wrong way, but you kinda struck me as the type of guy who'd be more into destruction than construction." His face falls just a bit.
"Well, you're not wrong. I actually end up burning most of my paintings because they aren't good enough." I sputter and a look of horror crosses my features.
"Surely you don't destroy all of them," I say. His grin widens at my expression.
"No, not all of them. Just the ones that don't come out how I want them to."
"Can I see one of them?" I ask, excitement suddenly bubbling in my stomach. He shrugs, still smiling.
"You already have. I did the paintings that are in my room." My eyes widen.
"You painted those? Those are incredible!" I gush. His grin looks in danger of splitting his face apart, and a very slight pink color rises to his cheeks.
"They're not that good, but thanks," he says, trying and failing to sound modest.
"Do you have a studio here in the house? Can I see it? Can I use it?" I ask, radiating excitement. He stands up eagerly.
"Of course. Come on," he says while crossing to the door. I bound out of my seat and scurry after him. He stops in front of the other locked door from earlier, pulls out a key, and unlocks it. He opens the door with a flourish, stepping to the side to let me enter first.
I step in and smile widely. The walls are all white and covered in finished and half-finished paintings. The floor is wooden and littered with paint splatters and the occasional burn mark. There are piles of blank canvas around the room and counters covered in tubes of paint and brushes. It's messy and disorderly and absolutely perfect. I turn around quickly to face Axel. He's leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. He smiles at my expression.
"Do you have a hair tie?" I ask, fire in my eyes.
