Erik's mind was spinning.
It felt like so much had happened so fast. First off, his sweet and beautiful savior had freed him from his status as a possession, arranged for him to have a tent, and even collected items and food stuffs that would make his new free life more comfortable. That same evening, she had admitted - although in a very indirect way – to a form of tender feelings towards him that seemed deeper than mere friendship; closer to what he was beginning to realize he felt for her. His heart had swollen with a warm and bittersweet ache that seemed nearly unbearable, and it wasn't even in response to her confessed emotions.
Today, he had witnessed the most brutal act man was even capable of. He'd known rage greater than ever before in his life – and he knew full well his rage had always been and would always continue to be one of his greatest faults. He'd killed a man, and it wasn't only to halt the bastards' terrible assault. He had felt so enraged that anyone would dare touch Arabella in such a callous and cruel way. His reaction had almost been… possessive. For only a moment, a part of his rage had actually screamed not so much that Adnah was raping anyone, but that he was raping someone Erik considered his.
It was dizzying to realize he could feel such selfishness. It was also nauseating that part of him could consider Arabella as his instead of as an independent person. His possessiveness wasn't meant to enslave or imprison her in any form. Had she been out there with Adnah of her own free will, his reaction never would have been so wrathful. But… when it came to his protectiveness…
He needed to get rid of the body and go back to her. Even before leaving, he'd known that Arabella was not in good shape. No one should be left alone after what she'd suffered, especially considering the physical trauma. He wasn't fully versed in the field of medicine, but he'd at least had opportunity in his youth to read several books on the subject. He'd known better than to leave her alone; known that she might have injuries he was unaware of that were even now becoming worse from lack of treatment.
He'd only hurried off for two reasons – both of which made him want to kick himself. One was getting Adnah out of her sight, so that the sight of his body wouldn't cause her continued stress. The other had been his sense of embarrassment and the need to escape her gaze. He'd known only the day before that his more-or-less secret nickname for her wasn't going to remain a secret… but he had intended that when she found out about it, it would be because he'd had the bravery to simply tell her about it. Realizing how he'd unconsciously blurted it out had been something close to mortifying.
It sure as hell wasn't a good enough excuse to go running off when he might have been able to help her with any injuries – visible or otherwise. When all he'd wanted after his stupidity was to run away from her calculating gaze, he wanted just the opposite once she was out of sight. Thinking of the bruises and the blood, he wanted to run back and envelope her in arms that would keep her safe.
He'd never wanted to hold anyone before. The first time it had been something close to an accident he'd chosen to enjoy. It had never crossed his mind to try and put his arms around her again… not until now.
Erik cursed profusely as he came to what seemed to be an old and disused badger hole, far larger than he'd ever guessed they would be. It was certainly large enough to cram Adnah's limp body into it and still lay some fallen branches over it as camouflage. If he hurried, he could conceal the body thoroughly within minutes and be back to Arabella's side before an hour had passed. But he knew he'd come this far, and he had to be thorough. There was one thing he knew above all else, and it was the simple fact that Freaks like himself proved as handy scapegoats for when things went awry. They wouldn't need to know he'd murdered the man to pin it on him if he were ever found. There wouldn't even need to be evidence.
He was soaked through with sweat by the time he returned to the river bank again. He leaped directly into the river, welcoming the brisk cold current as it washed over him. He took a few precious moments to splash himself thoroughly as he crossed the water, and then started up river at a lope. It didn't matter that every muscle ached with the effort of killing a man and disposing of his body. It didn't matter that he was exhausted after the heavy lifting and swift travel. He had to reach Arabella again, and take a closer look to be certain she was all right. He needed to touch the reality of what his lateness had cost her.
She was sitting with her feet in the cold water, the shawl held tightly about her as it had been when he left, and leaning over her thighs as though her arms were folded in pain across her stomach. She'd apparently washed herself in his absence, for the blood from her split lip was nothing but a small clotted mass. Her hair was down from its' braid, having been thoroughly soaked but now slowly drying in the warm spring afternoon. She had two terrible bruises on her face, both of them up near the corner of her left eye – so close that they nearly blended together. It would be impossible for them to return to camp and pretend nothing had happened to her.
"Bella…" he greeted uncertainly, pausing several yards away when she hadn't seemed to her his very loud and deliberate approach.
She made no reply, not even a slight twitch of her face indicating she was mentally present.
Slowly, Erik edged his way toward her, keeping both hands slightly out to either side as though showing how harmless he was. Only when he could have easily reached out to touch her knee did her gentle eyes flicker up to briefly scan his masked face.
"Are you all right?" he whispered, before she had the chance to look away and lose focus again.
Arabella swallowed thickly, her eyes dropping to his chest and focusing on absolutely nothing again. She was shivering just like when he'd left, but this time he was rather certain it was from her dip in the river rather than emotion or fear. Just his question alone made her already uncertain coloring bleed away until she was ashen.
"No." she admitted in a cracked voice. "No. I… I was sick…"
His brow furrowed slightly, and he glanced around in confusion.
"Were you?" he asked gently. "When?"
"Just after you left." She whispered. "When I was cleaning myself up…"
He stepped up to the riverbank and pulled himself out of the water, sitting close to her side without actually touching her. He was relieved to hear her words coming more smoothly.
"Are you feeling a little better now?"
She considered this, and then simply shook her head.
"It's never going to stop." She breathed. "Men are always going to do whatever they want to me… and how am I supposed to stop them? How can I make them stop when some deranged part of me…?"
Her voice had risen a little in half-formed hysteria, but clearly she couldn't bring herself to complete the thought aloud. Erik was utterly confused by the second half of her message, but he felt a part of him bristling just at the thought of other men trying anything on his dear Bella.
"Always?" he echoed. "Bella… Adnah is one man."
She glanced sideways at him, startled. Then, before he could ask why she seemed so surprised, her face shut down completely and she stared down at her shawl-hidden lap. A low moan of pain escaped her, and Erik quickly reached up to brush his palm on one shoulder. He knew that she could be in terrible physical pain, depending on how badly Adnah had hurt her before he arrived to try and save her, but intuitively he thought she didn't seem to be groaning out of physical pain alone.
"Bella?" he pressed gently, but insistently. "What can I do?"
"Nothing." She said quickly. "It's… it's nothing from… from him."
She bit out the reference to Adnah like a curse.
"It's a… womanly… problem…"
Her eyes lifted slowly to his, and she stared at him intently.
"Understand what I mean?"
Erik's eyes widened slightly, and he squirmed with abrupt discomfort. His few medical books had taught him the physiology of the female body.
"I… yes." He admitted, his face growing warm beneath the velvet he was certain the river water had ruined. "I understand. But what can I do, ma Belle? Please… there must be something. I feel … helpless."
She smiled weakly.
"You hate feeling helpless." She noted unnecessarily.
"Don't you?" he demanded.
The tentative smile fled her face, and she closed her eyes painfully.
"I'm used to it." She sighed.
"We shouldn't be forced to become used to helplessness." He bit out. "My mother used to beat me almost constantly. There were plenty of times I deserved a good thrashing. You wouldn't believe how much trouble I got into… how impudent I was. But even I didn't deserve the regular beatings she handed out."
Uncertainly, he squeezed the shoulder his hand rested on before beginning to caress the entirety of her upper arm in a hypnotically rhythmic motion. He watched her face carefully for any sign that she objected, but she made no direct move or sound to imply it. Her eyes merely opened slowly and slid over to watch him caress her through the shawl with dull and sorrow-heavy eyes.
"You deserve better." He whispered. "You deserve better than a rogue of a father, and a … a suitor who cannot handle rejection."
"Thank you." She breathed back, turning her face away once again without pulling from his touch. A long silence passed, and finally her glance at the sky had him wondering exactly what she probably thought.
How long had they been gone from the camp? Was anyone looking for either of them?
"We should go back." He suggested hesitantly, eyeing her bruised face.
Arabella shuddered, making him pause in his simple caress of comfort and squeeze her arm reassuringly.
"I can't." she breathed. "I can't go back. Not like this… and not with you. People will think you did this to me."
He frowned, but couldn't argue the point. He'd already acknowledged how he'd be used as a scapegoat if Adnah's body were ever found. Their animosity was known just enough for it to be used as direct evidence of his guilt. Why would they ever suspect anyone else in something just as hideous as harming an innocent young woman? As for her bruises… she'd have to stay away for days on end if she was worried about what people would think of those.
"We can try and tell them the truth." He offered weakly, without conviction. A part of his mind had been thinking tis over the entire way back to her, but even he wasn't completely convinced it was a working plan. "We can say I discovered Adnah forcing himself on you… that we fought. We just leave out the part where I ended his miserable existence, and claim he ran off when I came in to help you. We can say we drove him away together, and he probably wouldn't return out of fear of the camp turning on him in retribution."
"No one will believe that." she sighed, rubbing her hands over her face in agitation. "They'll think we worked together to kill a man we both disliked."
Erik began chewing on the insides of his cheeks, trying frantically to come up with a plan.
"You go back." She told him abruptly. "We can't be seen returning together. You need to return so it looks like you never entered this section of the forest at all. When I come back, I'll tell them what Adnah tried to do… maybe I'll even let them think he succeeded entirely."
"No." Erik barked sharply, wincing at how she suddenly jumped away from him a little. "No, Bella. That bastard didn't get the full chance to defile you, and I won't let that type of reputation destroy you."
She lifted an eyebrow without turning back to him.
"What would you know about such things?" she demanded, perhaps a little too harshly.
"I've read enough." He reminded her, forcibly gentling his voice. "I read everything I could ever get my hands on. I snuck out of the house and eavesdropped on so many conversations… I even stole newspapers when I was able. There are plenty of ways to acquire knowledge. Watching is another good way, and I've witnessed how your people react to…"
"To marime." She supplied for him bitterly, shaking her head. "So many different meanings for a single word; but it applies to me so well!"
Erik sucked in an astonished breath. It had only been two nights since he'd heard that word for the first time. He hadn't been able to find its' true meaning yet, but now he was terribly afraid he understood. Still, Arabella hardly gave him a chance to think how to tactfully question her about it. She had broken open, and the words that came spilling out of her mouth froze him.
"So many meanings for a single word; but it applies to me so well!"
Arabella scoffed at herself, shaking her head viciously. The self-hatred and venom had been slowly building in Erik's absence. Her physical reaction to Adnah's attack had been taunting her, screaming at her for being a wanton whore who wanted the treatment her father and Adnah had bestowed upon her. She'd never once reacted the same way to Yaakov's abuse… but how could she pretend what Adnah had caused was just an aberration? How could she ever convince herself that his very attack didn't mean she was created for such treatment? Somehow, she'd been built for men to use… and her father seemed to have finally brought her to such a low point that her body sought some depraved sort of pleasure from it?
She shuddered violently at the thought, feeling nauseous again.
"I was born marime! My mother ran away with my gaje father and returned with me already planted in her belly! If it hadn't been for my grandparents, they'd have been banished from the community! Men are not accepted into our culture! So I was born nothing but a half-breed, belonging neither to my grandparent's world nor to yours! It only got worse once my grandfather died, and took away his protection!"
She felt Erik's fingers grow still on her arm uncertainly, but she did nothing to encourage or discourage him. She was already lost in her own head, the poison that had invaded her through so many years welling up and out of her like pus from an infected sore. She was determined not to cry again, but she could no longer cage the utter agony she'd lived in for so long. Even her grandmother wasn't fully aware of how bad things were… although she no doubt suspected. Arabella had tried very hard to hide at least that secret from Tsifia, certain that her grandmother would see her just as she now saw Noleta… with little tolerance and barely disguised disgust.
She wasn't even sure she could handle Erik hearing the truth. Saying all this in front of him wrenched her heart even as she began building walls to try and protect it from his rejection. Bottling it up tight wasn't an option… but she didn't want him here to listen to her… but god… someone had to know. A part of her even thought it made a form of callous sense for the person she told to be an outsider that no one would believe if he repeated her secrets.
"My mother never did anything to help me!" she hissed, the pain coming out in a shout she was hardly even aware of as it echoed briefly against the cliff across from her. "I think she was relieved when he finally decided she was no longer a fun plaything! Anything – anyone – was a suitable substitute to keep from being touched again herself! But she's still so loyal to him; loyal to that gaje pig!"
Erik groaned softly beside her, and Arabella forced herself to pull away from the hand that had become as cold and still as stone. She began to huddle in on herself, whimpering briefly as another little stab of pain shot through her abdomen. She really should have gone home and told her parents it was her time. She shouldn't be out in public. A woman during her time of the month was even more marime than usual. The blood was considered a filthy curse. But she'd been afraid to return home and be subjected to the treatment she'd only narrowly escaped already.
Erik's hand dropped from her arm as she shied away, but he continued staring at her in mute horror and disbelief.
"Why did they have me?" she nearly screamed, not crying but demanding an answer from the heaven's as she tossed her head back. "I'm not a child to them! I'm a thing!"
"Oh, ma belle…" Erik sighed painfully.
She closed her eyes tightly, clenching her jaw as she began to rock. This was so much like the tantrum she'd had the night Adnah interrupted her evening with Erik. It had come on so relatively fast, and it made so little sense for her to explode with such little prodding. What Adnah had tried to do to her wasn't any further trauma than things her father had already done. She had no reason to feel so much filthier. She hated Erik whispering his nickname that way. She hated the pity and horror and disgust. It was there too, just as she had suspected it would be. Her heart felt like it was going to shred into pieces too small to even see. His opinion of her had somehow started to matter more than anyone else's.
Turning to look at him would finish what blow she'd already handed to herself just by opening her stupid mouth and confessing to all the horror.
"Why is this all I am worth to them?" she demanded, opening her arms so that her shawl fell away from her tightly laced vest. Her bosom heaved slightly as she panted for breath. "It's all anyone ever sees! It's the reason I have to dance all the time… the reason Adnah came after me, and why my father wanted me first! Even you-"
"-No!" Erik snapped sharply, before she could even turn her body towards his with the shove that had been on her mind.
His hands snapped up to capture her wrists, but he didn't imprison them tightly. All he did was gently press them away from his body.
"How could you identify me with one of them? As beautiful as you are – physically – it's not what drew me to you! I can understand why you'd hate the world – particularly men – but I am not like those animals! I would die before hurting you like they have! I'd rather stand aside and never be able to so much as speak to you again; anything to keep from hurting you! I can appreciate your beauty and still love you without that kind of vile lust!"
His words snapped Arabella out of her infuriated rant, and her mouth suddenly hung open as she stared blankly up at him. Erik stiffened as well, color seeming to vaguely tinge his neck as he again let words slip from his mouth without thought.
Love... Did he really mean love? Like… like… love?
Erik's always intense and expressive eyes showed just how startled he was by his own words; but he made no effort to retract them or apologize. After a brief moment, a gentle resignation filled his eyes and he almost smiled imperceptibly. He swallowed briefly as though out of nervousness, but still simply nodded to reassure her that she'd heard him correctly, in spite of the randomness of his now full-fledged confession. He didn't have to go into greater detail to be understood, and he didn't bother trying.
He removed a hand from her wrists and reached across the small space separating them to brush his thumb over her cheek. It was the first time he'd ever touched her face, and Arabella pulled away out of sheer habit, inwardly wincing when his had retreated to give her space. It had actually been a nice feeling… something that reminded her of her grandfather's caresses over her head as a child… or the gentle stroke of her back when she fell down and got hurt.
She was astonished to realize she didn't want him to pull away. Since her grandfather's death, there hadn't been a single man on Earth to touch her in such a tender way.
"I can." He insisted with continued gentleness. "No matter what physical reactions I'm capable of as a man… what I feel doesn't have to come from that kind of ugly place."
She stared into Erik's eyes and saw the eager sincerity there, making her shiver slightly from his intensity. Slowly, though, his acceptance of what he'd said faded to the sterner determination she knew so well when he didn't want to leave a subject alone.
"Ma belle…" he murmured with deliberate softness. "Let's make one thing very clear. Are you saying that your father has done more than beat you?"
Arabella pursed her lips until they hurt, but she couldn't quite bring herself to drop her gaze as she nodded. She watched as Erik's jaw locked in anger, and his outrage over her circumstances seemed to drain what was left of her own anger. Just like the night of her tantrum, the anger was gone nearly as soon as it started. All that was left was the deep and painful ache of her shame. She sat, stewing in all that pain while Erik seemed to disappear into himself for endless minutes. She could palpably feel him trying to reign in the dark cloud of fury her admission had created in him.
"He won't do it again." He promised simply once his mouth relaxed. His voice was harsh and cold, like the rasp of steel on steel… like a sword being drawn from its sheath with slow deliberateness.
"Erik!" Arabella's hands shot up, and she was just as surprised as he was when she grabbed his shoulders tight in protest. "You can't kill him, too! Everyone will know! You can't get away with it!"
"I can't right now." He agreed coolly. "You're right. It would be much too soon after Adnah's odd disappearance. But I doubt they will be much aggrieved to see a gaje who is a thorn in their sides die."
Arabella continued shaking her head frantically. She had grown up under Yaakov's power. To her, he was utterly untouchable. Nothing could bring him down, no matter what crimes he'd committed. He'd spent so much of her life successfully hiding his actions towards her from the kumpani that he'd proven his invincibility. Unlike Adnah, who'd been nothing but a gypsy dog… her father was like a mamioro that could not be defeated as a mortal could. If Erik tried to harm her father, he would only wind up back in his cage… or worse…
"No." she begged in a rasping whisper. "No, Erik. Please! Please!"
He stared at her in total disbelief.
"You want him to continue?" he demanded.
"No!" she swore. "No! I can't stand it! But if he hurt you-"
"I don't have to face him the same way I did Adnah." Erik pointed out rationally, his voice soothing in spite of the topic of conversation and the steel that remained from his decision. Arabella shuddered at his simple calculations, unable to admit to him that she also didn't want anyone to really know about what her father regularly did to her.
"No!" she pressed. "I won't be responsible for you being dragged further into this!"
That brought him up short, and he tilted his head in that way he often did, eyeing her in utter confusion. After a moment he glanced down at his shoulders, and she followed his gaze to realize her knuckles had turned snowy white on them. Heat rushing to her cheeks, she quickly released him and sat back.
She could have counted to a hundred long before he dared to speak again.
"All right…" he conceded slowly, begrudgingly. "I won't harm your father… not for his past sins. But, if he harms you even one more time… if he so much as grabs your arm and twists it… his period of grace will be over."
Her eyes snapped back up to his gaze, her mouth hanging foolishly open again. He was smiling at her from beneath his ridiculous replacement mask in a hard way that made her nervous. Clearly, his murder of Adnah had awakened some dark monster within him that was reluctant to go back into its cage.
"If you don't want me murdering him…" he told her succinctly. "I suggest we find a way to keep you out of his hands."
She nodded uneasily, knowing he meant every single word. From that moment on, her father's days were numbered. Both of them knew it was only a matter of time before Yaakov dared to put his hands on her again. Abusing her had become too much of a habit, like how she cringed from the most tender of touches even when she wasn't afraid.
"We protect each other now, ma belle." He murmured gently. "Understand me?"
"Yes." She promised. "You aren't the only one who loves someone enough to risk nearly anything."
He managed another wry smile.
"You protected me when we were still strangers." He pointed out dryly.
"What does that that have to do with what I feel now?" she demanded.
Erik chuckled, leaning back from her. The darkness that had stirred in him since the moment he witnessed Adnah's attack was suddenly gone… and Arabella realized just how suffocating it had been in spite of all his tenderness.
Mamioro: A spirit said to bring serious illness