I wanted to purge this need from my body. I had decided to give into this want, this lust, this infatuation so that I could recoup my previous mindset. I could not risk leaving now and having her preoccupy my thinking. If anything maybe she'd decide to return with me if I pleased her, it certainly wouldn't hurt.

"What are your plans today?" I asked the beautiful woman curled into the couch engrossed in weaving her hair.

"Mhh?" She barely glanced at me before turning back to the twisting locks.

"Your plans?"

"I thought you wanted to go back to your hideout?" She didn't spare me even a glance. I had forgotten even asking, was actually trying to think of another reason to delay my parting.

I stood, groaning as I grasped my side. "Perhaps." I limped into the kitchen, keeping my eyes to the ground.

"You okay?" her sympathetic tone gave me the reassurance to continue.

"Well, I certainly don't want to be in your hair any longer than necessary." I looked over to meet her worried gaze. "I'm well aware of the chance your taking keeping me here. I don't wish to put you in any more danger, especially since you've decided to discontinue your involvement with us." I fought my tongue not to spit the latter words at her, encouraging myself that I was serving another purpose now.

"No, you can stay as long as you need too." She moved to the kitchen door, "It's no trouble, and your still hurt..." Her voice trailed off as she placed her hand lightly upon my arm. "Your fine here."

I placed my hand on hers, pinning her with my gaze. "Thank you, my dear. Many would not be as brave as you have been." I reached up with my other hand to brush a strand of her hair from her cheek, "Not many are as beautiful as my savior."

She flushed, taking a step back from me. "Thank you." She fidgeted on her feet, "Do you need something? Hungry again?"

I grinned, "I don't believe I could stomach anymore of your fruity O's, the sugar seems to disagree with my system."

She nodded, "Well, I can make you a sandwich if you'd like something more filling."

I shook my head, "No, I'm fine. I just think I could use some more rest." I tilted my head, allowing my hair to cover my eyes lest she could read my intent. "Perhaps, you'd lay beside me? Keep me company?"

She didn't answer, her mind probably looking for a reasonable decline, so I stumbled against the counter. Quickly, her arms were around me. I looked down into her wide eyes, she looked so guileless, so sweet, so pure. "Okay." She mumbled, moving around to help me walk back to the room I'd come to despise.

She led me to the bed, allowing me to sit, taking position on her side. I lay back, watching as she fought her own inner battle before lying down beside me.

"Do you wish to talk?" I asked, my hand finding it's way into her braided hair.

After a few moments, "Tell me how you became what you are today."

I grunted, "Long story, perhaps something else?"

"I'm not asking personal details or anything." She chewed on her words for a moment, "Just the highlights."

"There are many." She'd asked of my past many times, it wasn't a pleasant subject, and one I didn't feel would further my intentions.

"The tattoo? How did you get the tattoo?" Her nimble fingers caressed the scorned numbers on my arm, and I sneered.

"Nazis marked me with those to identify me."

She sat up, her face full of shock, her hand gripping my arm. "You were in World War II? I mean those camps?"

I gave her a grim smile, then turned my eyes to the ceiling. "I was a forced participant in the Jewish Holocaust. I worked for them after they killed my parents, my uncle, my sister..." I trailed off, my memories flooding me for those few seconds before her soft touch to my shoulder brought me back to the present.

"I'm sorry." she murmured, her eyes brimming with tears.

I reached up laying my hand against her cheek, she shut her eyes taking a deep breath. "I survived where many did not. I wear red, the color of blood, in tribute to their lost lives. And the harder I try to cast it aside, to find the gentler path, the more irresistibly I am drawn back. I should have died myself with those I loved. Instead I carted the bodies by the hundreds, by the thousands, from the death house to the crematorium, and the ashes to the burial ground. Asking myself now what I could not then- Why was I spared?" Her hand gripped mine against her cheek. Her tears silently falling in sympathy of what I had went through.

I didn't doubt her feelings of remorse, I, myself, felt them often. I knew, though, no matter how much they taught the subject, no matter how many books someone read, how many survivors spilled their story no one else would understand what horrendous fates we had suffered among the ruthless sadistic men that had once trapped us like rats to be killed and tortured. She had no clue what the experience had meant to me, her sadness was only a pinch of what I truly felt.

"How did you get away?" She whispered. Her watery blue eyes finally looking again to me for answers.

I smiled, "I met a woman. Together, we made our escape."

"Is she still alive?" I pulled away from her, not at all happy to be discussing this. Yet, with this morbid topic, she seemed to draw closer to me, almost trying to comfort me.

"No. Magda died a very long time ago." My love ran from me, she'd hid from me, in the end her fear helped kill her.

"Did you two love each other?" she asked. Her hands running along my side, as one would comfort a child or beloved pet, comfort the only intention behind the gesture.

"I loved her very much." I said so without shame, she had been my one true mate, my reason for continuing to exist even after all the inhumane cruelties I'd witnessed.

"What happened to her?" She was hesitant to ask the question, I didn't look at her, but decided perhaps pity was the way to get what I wanted. Yes, my story was sad, but I didn't look for pity. No, it had strengthened me into the man I was today and I was a survivor.

"We married, moving from town to town until finally I found work as a teacher. The village- they discovered I had abilities. They were ignorant then, not understanding there were mutations among humanity, instead believing it the work of the devil. They formed a mob. While I was away, they attacked our home, burning it to the ground. Our daughter, Anya, was in the house. Magda was unable to get to her, she was-" I had to pause, unsure of how to describe the horrible pain we had went through. "When I arrived, they were holding her back. She was crying and screaming, trying her best to go back in the blazing inferno. I went crazy, every man, every woman, ever child that had dared to enter the throng of bastards, I killed. I used my own powers to destroy those who had destroyed my home, my innocent daughter."

She didn't say anything, and I spared a glance to judge her reaction. "I don't know what else to say, but I'm sorry." She offered, her voice low and soft, on the verge of tears.

I shrugged, "I cannot change the past, but I do not wish for others to suffer as I. Hate is a festering wound upon humanity, until the mutants have gained their right as the next step then I will continue my war."

She brushed her hand across my cheek, pushing my hair back behind my ear. "Your a hero."

I met her eyes, digesting the words. "I am no hero. Merely a man who has seen and done and endured what can never be forgotten or forgiven."

"But many would have already given up." She said defending her previous statement.

I smiled sadly, "Is that what you have done? Have you given up, my Isis?"