Yeah.

When I was little my mom used to hold my feet in her palms. She would always kiss them no matter how dirty or whatever they were. I mean I was a child but, still. She'd look at me full of love and say I got my dad's feet. It was a compliment, my dad honestly had really pretty feet. Anyway, I think she liked my feet because it was the only thing she could fit in her hands, the rest of my body she didn't love so much. She bent extension cords on my skin and lunged herself at me with the same hands she carefully massaged my feet with. It reminds me of how Howie holds my hands. He hurts everywhere but my small hands that get engulfed in his. I think they have a lot in common. They liked being nice to certain parts of me, the parts they could overtake. The parts they could consume with themselves. Everything else, not so much.

I see him settling in to the pillow, finally setting his phone down and, naturally, I hold my breath and shut my eyes. He faces me, "Aurum?" I think I was playing dead. "Aurum, don't ignore me." I look at him, staring at his light hazel eyes, and remember to breathe. "Yeah." I stated. I really didn't want to know what he was going to say. "I love you; you know that right? I'm…" he trails off. "I… It's just for the best, you know how important these games are to me and my clan. You know how the power is in this house…" Howie starts looking around the room, almost desperately. "I don't want to hurt you, I swear." And he smiles. That beautiful, crooked smile. I wondered how such a beautiful man became so broken. Like a coward. "Yeah." I had nothing else to say. He grabs my hand and balls it in his fist. "You're beautiful, do you want some ice for your face?" I almost screamed. I almost cried. I almost remembered I was worthy of more. But I'm stupid, and I just nodded my head. "Yeah."

He walked up the stairs with some ice, and I hissed feeling it on my battered face. Howie smiled, a beautiful crooked smile. With cheeks so rosy you could mistake them for cherry blossoms. Beautiful. "There we go, is that better?" he asked, with a sweet tone. "Yeah." I didn't anticipate what else he wanted from me, and I grew nervous. I looked into his eyes, "much better…" and quickly looked away. He chuckled, the laugh I'd grown to hate that once was part of the melody in my heart, that once made me swoon. I almost showed my repulsion. Not long after, I fell asleep again. With dried up tears on my cheeks, and a throb to boot. "I love you," he sings to me before I slip away. "Yeah."