Featured song: Scream My Name – Tove Lo / Do You Really Want To Hurt Me – Denmark + Winter
I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, video game or anything related to the Marvel franchise! But I do own my OC's and the plot…and I also own a warm scarf that is currently around my neck XD
P.S. Any of the music, bands, or brands that I mention in my fic are referenced purely to make the characters and world more tangible – I do not get any money as I am not promoting them…though I know you all know that!
WARNING: Mature content ahead! NSFW! Rated M for a reason! YAY more fun stuff! (Apologies in advance for the excessive swearing!)
Hayley awoke, the much-welcomed Sunday morning lie-in causing her to stretch out her limbs sleepily. Though she was still in a dozy haze, she felt well rested, much to the thanks of the sleeping pills she took last night.
After putting Harry to bed when his lengthy and exhausting night terror ended, she had laid awake for a further two hours, her mind a scrambled mess. Everything she had learnt in the space of twenty-four hours was incredibly hard to digest. Peter being Spider-Man still didn't make sense to her. It was hard to now associate all the times she had seen the arachnid on the news and in the paper, with the goofy and somewhat awkward boy who loved Gwen.
The point of Spider-Man was that he was a faceless vigilante, an everyman, and a heroic citizen. But now she could put a name and a face to the guy in blue and red, his heroic actions were less potent. Peter had gotten close to her, blossomed a friendship that barely existed, just to keep tabs on Harry. How could she continue to believe that his constant superhuman behaviour of saving and protecting New York was truly genuine? Could there be a hidden agenda that she was missing? That maybe there could be a more sinister motive behind the spider's mask?
It was all just painful mind games and pure speculation, but Hayley didn't know where the truth blended into the lies, and the lies hid behind the truth. She wanted to believe in Spider-Man the way she wholeheartedly believed in and supported Harry. However there were so many questions that she needed to ask Peter and unfortunately that was no longer an option. She had chosen Harry, promised never to see Peter again, and had broken off their friendship for good.
Hayley sighed loudly and rubbed the sleep dust from her eyes. All this thinking was giving her a migraine. She turned and wasn't surprised to find Harry missing from their bed, his side cold and devoid of human warmth. Sadly, it was practically routine now.
Reaching out to the bedside table, her fingers clutched at air. A frown settled on her pale face and she sat up, the blanket falling away from her upper body. She rubbed her bare arms as her eyes suspiciously fell upon the space where a bottle of tablets should have been.
"That's odd," Hayley muttered under her breath, "I was sure I put it there last night." Her feet kicked away the remaining blanket and she shimmied out of bed, before crouching down to inspect the floor. "Curiouser and curiouser. No bottle, just dust bunnies, and…" her voice tailed off as she spotted a very odd and out of place object.
Beneath the bed was a very long and deep, silver metallic box. It had strong looking clamps that were keeping it tightly shut, as well as a sturdy three-digit combination lock. There was not a scratch or dent on it, its metallic armour guarding it from any unwanted intruders, like Hayley. The box appeared as if it could survive a nuclear bomb! There were also two labels upon the box; one was the familiar OsCorp logo, and the other was an orange caution sticker informing her that the contents inside were explosive.
Hayley felt sick knowing that there was a very strong possibility that bombs were under the bed in which they both slept.
It was clearly a government official item and it appeared relatively new considering not one speck of dust coated it. Instead, the fluff and dirt created a loose forensic time scale of how long it had been inside Osborn Manor. The case like box had her extremely worried for her own safety and concerned as to why Harry would even have hold of it in the first place. There appeared no safe way of checking the contents herself, not that she particularly wanted to. Without the combination code or bomb squad clothing, Hayley was at a loss of what do about this discovery. So instead of immediately confronting Harry, she decided to continue to search for the elusive medication bottle.
Unlike Alice falling into Wonderland, Hayley wanted to stay suspended for a little while longer, and not discover how deep the rabbit hole goes.
She played detective for a good twenty minutes, though her thoughts still lingered on the OsCorp Pandora's box. The bathroom was now a mess with all the cupboards and cabinets wide open and disordered, having been rifled through hysterically. Harry's night robe lay on the unmade bed, the pockets turned out. Hayley had even searched the adjoining bedroom.
Still nothing.
Objects didn't just disappear.
With her search drawing up blank, she was about to give up when her eyes landed on the only place she hadn't searched; Harry's bedside table. She hadn't thoroughly checked near the bed due to what lay beneath it.
As she hesitantly walked towards the bedside table, she struggled internally, knowing that it was an invasion of privacy. However, with her migraine practically making her head explode, Hayley had no choice. She bit her lip nervously, her heart pounding behind her ribs. It felt wrong to do this, and her eyes darted towards the door leading to the living area.
"Please don't come in, please don't come in, please don't come in," she whispered repeatedly, practically hyperventilating as her hand curled around the drawer knob. "Please don't come in, please don't come in, please don't – "
Her eyes speedily flicked away from the door and down to the drawer as she tugged it open. Nestled in with various assorted boxes, the lost pill bottle twinkled up at her.
Why are my drugs in Harry's drawer? Hayley pondered.
Initially she felt relieved that she hadn't just misplaced the glass bottle, but was now somewhat perturbed at its current and mysterious location. Hayley snatched it up and raced with it back into the bathroom. It felt like she had just stolen from Harry even though it was her possession. After popping a little yellow migraine pill her mind started to clear, and she calmly and methodically returned the bathroom to its natural order. Hayley made sure to hide the bottle under the sink behind the toilet roll, hopefully where Harry wouldn't find it.
She was just about to locate the man in question and rustle up a late cornflakes breakfast, when she remembered that his drawer remained open, begging to be discovered. Walking briskly, Hayley fixed the crumpled bed sheets as she went, finishing on Harry's side. Her green eyes tried not to specifically identify what he kept in his drawer, she really did, but there was no unseeing the blatant and obvious truth.
His drawer was filled with unopened and unused boxes of prescription medication.
Shakily, Hayley lifted up a box and stared at the prescribed date; the box had been administered in the first month he was released from Ravencroft. Hayley threw the insulting object back into the drawer of deceit from whence it came. As the box smacked against its fellows, she too felt like being slapped in the face.
She had failed.
Failed at treating Harry, failed at monitoring his daily medication, failed at being a trained professional…just…failed.
Apart from the all-consuming failure, Hayley also felt angry. She was positively fuming that Harry seemed to think that this was all a game, that he did not trust in her ability to treat and medicate him. This explained the merging of himself and the Goblin, their definitive lines blurring. His worsening skin lesions, explosive behaviour, inability to control his temper, returning night terrors; this was all due to his deception of taking his medication. He hadn't taken any medication the whole time.
This really was the last straw.
Seething from head to toe, Hayley shoved the drawer closed with a bang and stormed away from it. An agitated scowl hardened her more naturally soft features and her emerald eyes became jaded with pure anger overcoming her.
When she crossed the short distance towards the door, she flung it open violently, yelling as she went, "Harry! HAR – "
Stopping mid sentence, Hayley was greeted by a shirtless Harry, as well as two men she did not recognise; Felicia appeared to have left, as she was not present.
Harry was sitting on his favoured couch, his dappled and sickly green skin on full display. All the lesions she had attended to last night before his night terror were now exposed, with fresh smaller ones having appeared over night it seemed. He was bent over, his back glistening slightly with beads of sweat and his breathing ragged; he appeared to be in pain. From her position, Hayley was once again unable to see the larger wound in his neck. Every so often his hand kept dabbing at the infected area.
Various medical supplies covered the coffee table, with two large, sliver, suitcase like boxes open wide containing further medicinal equipment. The cases were extremely similar to the one beneath Harry's bed. An excessive amount of sterile bandages were stacked like Jenga blocks next to small vials of blood, which was no doubt Harry's. Much of the apparatus was top of the line, expensive models, and the newest gadgets in the field.
They had clearly been brought by the dark skinned man wearing pinstripe trousers, a smart shirt and tie, with a stethoscope slung round his neck. He wore angular glasses that looked to be designer. His nimble hands were holding bandages, so Hayley assumed that the man was a doctor, and a highly skilled one judging by the surrounding equipment. There was a vague hint of recognition about the new man but she couldn't put her finger on it.
The last man had his well-built back to her. He was standing by the tall windows with the organza curtains causing a strange, blue, glow around him. Judging by the hand stroking his beard, he appeared to be deep in thought.
"What's going on?" Hayley asked cautiously, looking between the three men apprehensively. Her anger subsided for now, what with the oddity of the situation causing her to feel wary.
Harry smirked dangerously, licking his lips as he spoke clearly, "Say hello to my new doctor."
"Your w-what?"
"Doctor, Hayley. My new doctor," he repeated, brushing away his boyish bangs as he spoke. Harry watched closely at the evident confusion on her face, wanting nothing more than to kiss the trembling lips that alerted him to her bubbling distress. "This is Doctor Booker, he was one of my father's physicians. He is also the lead consultant on all the research into Retroviral Hypodysplasia at OsCorp."
"Ah, Miss Carmichael, I have read your notes back at the lab, very thorough work," spoke the older man, his voice as gruff and manly as the black beard on his chin.
Hayley smiled shyly and nodded in greeting. Though she had never met the man, she knew who Doctor Booker was. He was rarely seen in the practical side of the laboratories but he always attended meetings and delegated all the radical research that she was now a part of. Strictly speaking, he was the head of her department of research, lead professional, her superior and boss. Everyone always spoke well of the stern looking man, and his name appeared on all the inter-department emails and research papers on Retroviral Hypodysplasia.
The doctor wore an expensive suit, as many men of power often did. Other than his bushy facial hair, he was a balding man, in his early fifties. He had a worn face but everything else about him screamed of expertise, talent, and skill in his field. The medical supplies he was using to patch up Harry were all laid out neatly, in some sort of order. His dexterous hands were sure of every movement they made on Harry's ill body. The man reminded her slightly of Doctor Scott, though their auras were completely different; the Ravencroft doctor was pompous and a sadistic man, whereas Booker held himself with respect and had a small shred of kindness in his eyes.
Sensing that the redhead still hadn't fully comprehended the situation, Harry reiterated his point, interested to see how she took the final blow. "Yes," he said, his piercing eyes capturing hers, "Doctor Booker will be taking over my medical care from now on."
She stayed silent for a moment, unable to breakaway from his possessive gaze. Only when she focused on the fresh bandages in the doctor's hands, did she really understand that Harry was effectively firing her.
"Wait, what?"
"The plan was always to have Doctor Booker relieve you from your duties when you had collected enough date," Harry revealed with a wicked grin. He rolled his head and cracked his knuckles, truly at ease with the power he held of having her life in his hands.
"So…wh-what is my job now?"
"You will continue working in the laboratories, Miss Carmichael," Doctor Booker reassured curtly, rubbing his dark beard as he spoke, "your work ethics have not gone unnoticed. You have a great working relationship with Mr. Osborn, so you will continue to utilise that. You will no longer be conducting checkups daily, but rather every two days. You will also personally assist me with various data collection projects, such as monitoring Mr. Osborn's lesion growth." The doctor waited for a response from the deflated girl but received none, so he continued, "You will no longer be lead physician but an assistant. I will now be in charge of Mr. Osborn's primary and immediate medical care."
"Right," Hayley said flatly, staring at the marbled ground, noticing all the lovely swirls in the stone.
"It's not like science is your strongest area anyway, Hayley. We'll still have our twice monthly therapy sessions to look forward to," Harry grinned.
"Not that you take them seriously," muttered the redhead under her breath.
"I will be examining Mr. Osborn closely to not only administer tailor-made, revolutionary testing, but also to take care of prescribing his medication."
"Why? It's not like he takes his pills anyway," she snapped hastily, the words tumbling from her lips before she even had time to think of the aftermath.
The room became deathly silent and her words hung in the air like bullets finding their mark, with Hayley the unfortunate target. Her teeth gnawed at her swollen lip, deciding it better to stay quiet since her mouth was seemingly out of her control. Risking a glance over to Harry, she visibly cringed under his piercing glare, his cool eyes starting to rapidly change colour.
The Goblin couldn't come out, not in front of two men who probably knew nothing of his personality shifts. Hayley prayed that her smart mouth hadn't unleashed the monster.
"Why don't we let the doctor continue his examinations, Miss Carmichael," came a strange Russian voice.
The built man, who had remained silent up until now, motioned for her to come stand with him by the tall windows.
He was strange looking, wearing a tight, long-sleeved, black top that hugged the definition of his musculature. Army cargo trousers and a real fur gilet suggested that he might be in the armed forces or some sort of huntsman. He seemed older than his appearance suggested; maybe it was the large scar that ran over his eye, or maybe it was the way he stood with total and complete peaceful assurance. The foreign man had a harsh face and a cold stilted voice, but that didn't stop Hayley from instantly respecting the man. He seemed like he had seen many things in his time, almost like an old book; tattered and rough on the outside, but behind the ragged cover lay a wealth of knowledge.
"I believe we have not been formally introduced; I am Sergei Kravinoff, but you may call me Kraven." He held out his hand for her to shake and when her cold and clammy hand pressed against his, Kraven internally marvelled at how dainty the redhead was. The veins on her arm pulsed, he observed. No doubt her heart was fluttering like a caged bird, " You are tense. One would do well not to provoke the green-eyed monster."
Hayley's head snapped up to stare at the man in shock. How did he know about the Goblin? Did he know? Although she couldn't be certain that's what he had implied, she could tell from Kraven's unalarmed state that he too knew about Harry's alter ego. It was strange that the man was completely calm and composed about being trusted with such a secret.
"He's replaced me I see," Hayley commented dryly. Truthfully, she wanted to probe the man more to see how much he knew, but it was probably not wise to discuss such secretive matters in front of Doctor Booker…unless he knew too.
"A lion has duty to rule his pride, make difficult decisions that effect those he loves, regardless of the costs," Kraven responded, his strange expressions puzzling her momentarily.
"The word "pride" implies that his choices effect people other than me."
The hunter continued to stare out at the window. "They do."
"Yes, but by your logic I'd be considered a lioness…unless he has other lion girlfriends in his "pride" to replace me with…"
"You misunderstand Miss Carmichael. You are the lamb," he clarified, momentary amusement at the emergence of her own green-eyed monster causing him to titter.
Jealousy was not a concept associated with hunting animals, and Kraven found the emotional side of human beings a trivial past time. However, he could not deny that the little redhead was truly captivating in the way her emotions changed effortlessly like the change of ocean tides. She had gone from anger, to confusion, hurt, annoyance, shock, cynicism, and now jealousy. Kraven had once described her to Harry as a delicate flower, a statement that he stood by. Though he was alarmed at the fresh bruising on her neck, as well as the way a broken cast clung to her clawed fingers.
Clearly the lion and toyed with the lamb.
Hayley glanced up at the hunter skeptically, "A sacrificial lamb?"
"No," Kraven chortled kindly, "a pure lamb. One that needs protection."
"From what?"
"The truth," he murmured softly, lowering his voice so as not to alert Harry who was still being treated by Doctor Booker. "There are forces other than what you see, little lamb. The road will not be easy, but in the end, you must be the one to save him from himself if need be," the hunter's words coming forth like a prophecy being foretold.
"I thought you said I needed to be protected?" she questioned, crinkling her nose in confusion. All the ambiguous animal comparisons were starting to bring back her migraine.
"This is true. However, a lion with nothing to live for is reckless. You are the key to his remaining humanity," Kraven mused, looking down at the redhead for the first time during their conversation.
"You are one cryptic guy, you know," Hayley informed him with a smile.
Kraven started a little at how her eyes twinkled at him kindheartedly; she was too trusting, much like a lamb innocently grazing with a wolf in sheep's clothing. Except the hunter had no qualms about her eventual discovery of who he really was, as well as his role in Mr. Osborn's plans. There would indeed be danger ahead for the fragile girl, but having two apex predator criminals on her side would improve her chances of surviving this battle.
"Another truth," he commented, a rare ghost of a smile upturning the corners of his lips – the girl's purity was intoxicating and infectious.
The noise of a strange and informative voice caused the pair to turn away from the window and face the open plan room. Harry had the television remote in his hand, finger pressed firmly on the volume button.
The reporter, Whitney Chang, was discussing the latest news surrounding the murder of Andrei Kuzmin. Apparently there were no current leads, but viewers were told to stay vigilant around the area. Police detectives had decided to address the beheading rumour. Confirming photographs were then shown of the carved pumpkin that had been used, dried blood sprinkled over the orange-yellow fruit. Viewers were advised to be alert in the upcoming weeks when dressing up and purchasing jack-o-lanterns for All Hallows Eve.
"Pumpkins aren't just for Halloween these days it seems," the Goblin joked, flashing the redhead a dark grin akin to the one he had carved on the pumpkin. He noticed her shudder at his words, which only furthered his excitement. "We might have to buy some Hayley, otherwise Halloween just won't be the same," he said before focusing his attention back to Doctor Booker attending his wounds.
Tutting at him in displeasure, Hayley went back to looking out the window, preferring the view outside than what was transpiring in Osborn Manor.
"Mr. Osborn has flare for theatrics, wouldn't you agree little lamb?"
Hayley slowly peeked up at the hunter, eyes widening in realisation that not only was this man aware of the Goblin, but he too knew the truth behind Kuzmin's murder. He could have played a part in it, even helped Harry carry out the crime. Kraven was heavily involved in whatever Harry had planned, that she now knew for sure.
She took one last glance back at the television screen before turning to face the window again, feeling slightly calmer viewing the everyday hustle and bustle in comparison to the ghastly news headlines. There always seemed to be some crime or villainous rampage happening in New York. And there was always Spider-Man, ready to rescue and protect the city.
It made her think about the first time she really became aware and frightened of what was being reported on the news; Electro's darkening of the city, the Goblin's creation and capture, Spider-Man's battle atop the clock tower…Gwen's death. That one event had changed her life forever. She remembered watching the news that night when the power had returned. It was strange to think that the televised grainy video of the hero and villain battling it out actually showed her the very people who were not only responsible for Gwen's death, but also who would replace her friend's presence in her life.
Ever since that night, Hayley only watched the news channels. Her relatively quiet life had been disturbed, and now nothing else mattered than the plague of crime that poisoned New York.
"Have we met before?" she piped up suddenly.
Kraven quirked his bushy, salt and pepper eyebrows, wondering how much to reveal. "Briefly, at the charity ball."
Hayley cast her mind back and realised that Kraven was one of the men who passed her when she interrupted Harry's meeting in the hotel room. It had been so dark in the room that she really hadn't been able to distinguish any recognisable features. However, his built silhouette flashed like a light bulb in her memory.
"I think I've seen you before, other than that night I mean," she continued slowly, "on the news…you were with Sytsevich fighting Spider-Man?"
Choosing not to answer the inquisitive girl this time, Kraven continued on with his previous point that was prompted by the news story. "You have taken your attacker's murder well. Not everyone is forgiving of a clear display of dominant and predatory behaviour."
"Do not take my calmness as forgiveness, Kraven," Hayley snapped uncharacteristically, making the hunter turn in surprise at her sudden, feisty demeanor, "I do not approve of it at all! I do not even think I'm ok with it." She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, "But, that exhilarating feeling of when you extinguish the fire in their eyes, when you see the spark of life dying, well…I would imagine it's invigorating."
Kraven stared at the proposed lamb, wondering how he could have overlooked such a high-spirited and complex creature. "You speak with assertion of an apex predator," he commented.
"Maybe. Either way, he's a murderer and an idiot."
"You view exacting justice wrongful?"
"No, but revenge is."
"Hayley!"
The redhead and the hunter turned sharply towards the harsh voice.
Harry was pulling a navy t-shirt back over his body, which was dotted with the fresh bandages that Doctor Booker had applied. Her eyes glazed over slightly upon seeing the flesh above his jean waistband, the little snail trail of hair making her mouth go dry in want. It was odd how quickly her emotions changed around him. Even being in his presence made her a bumbling mess, and she was meant to be angry with him!
"Hayley," he repeated looking her up and down, the same look of desire in his eyes. However, the irritation was clear in his voice, "Be a doll and get dressed."
Glancing down at her attire, Hayley blushed upon realising that in her initial rage she had forgotten that she was still in her nightwear. Leggings, a knee-length, baggy tee, and messy hair were not the things to be wearing in front of a criminal hunter, her work superior, and the owner of OsCorp.
"Oh…erm…I…" she spluttered, wringing her hands together in embarrassment.
"Well, why don't you go get dressed," Harry drawled, placing his hands behind his head as he relaxed further into the sofa.
He rather enjoyed seeing her ruffled and tumbled but not in front of others - she was only for him to see. The reason he had tolerated her less than polished apparel was because he wasn't in a position to enforce his demands. Plus, he was very interested in seeing her reactions to Kraven, and did not wish to disturb them. If the hunter could strike up a similar rapport and friendship like the one she had with Manners, then Hayley would be further ensnared into his sinister plans.
Not needing any more encouragement, Hayley took off like a shot and made a beeline for the room they shared. Her hands fiddled with the hem of her long t-shirt, all too aware that its stonewashed style only made her appear that much scruffier. The worst part was that she could feel three pairs of judgmental eyes boring into her back.
"I'll be seeing you at work then, Miss Carmichael," Doctor Booker called out causing the redhead to turn, "we shall schedule a meeting soon."
"Yes, I –." In her haste, Hayley stumbled and stubbed her foot on the wall of mahogany bookshelves, "OW! FU-I'm fine!" She bit the inside of her mouth to prevent her from swearing, "Work…meeting, yes! Erm, goodbye!"
Internally she cringed at her stupidity but was too desperate to leave to really rectify the situation.
As she closed the door behind her, Hayley let out a long sigh and whispered every profanity under the sun whilst she rubbed her bruised foot. The solid door acted as her stability, however its closure did not conceal her completely from what she had left behind. She could her snippets of the men's conversations; Harry was making excuses for her disheveled appearance.
"…pops sleeping pills like they were candy, hence her preference for nightwear this late in the morning… "
Her heart sank and she stared at her bare feet, the chipped and varnished nails suddenly making her think about the cracks in her professional and personal relationship with Harry. It was like whenever she had collected all the breadcrumbs and put the jigsaw pieces together, the puzzle only got that much bigger.
The men's laughter only furthered her feelings of humiliation and shame.
"…at least, Mr. Osborn, you will not suffer from any side effects yourself. Medicating you with prescription drugs is not the answer…" came Doctor Booker's eloquent voice.
"Indeed. I haven't taken any since my release from the institute…"
Hayley clenched her jaw to stop the tears forming in her eyes because she was so sick of constantly crying over things that weren't in her control. So her sadness started to turn back into anger and she gave the closed door the finger. Then when that wasn't enough to express her ire, she started to mutter curses aloud. She closed her eyes and began to do a strange dance, hoping around like a rabbit gone berserk. All the while gesticulating her anger as she went.
"Fuck you, fuck you, you fucking pompous, rich bastard! Fuck you, fuck you, you fucking pompous, rich bastard! Fuck you, fuck – "
So absorbed in her crazy version of a Wiccan hex dance, she failed to hear the door open.
"I see you still aren't dressed properly," spoke Harry, smiling widely when she stopped dancing, her eyes flying open to meet his. "Alas, I must confess, you are rather amusing like this," he chuckled, "though I fail to see how I am a bastard."
"What the fuck are you playing at Harry?" Hayley cried indignantly, "You fired me! You – "
"No. I just shuffled around my staff a little."
"Is that what I am to you? Your "staff"? You could have told me! But you let me find out like this! I am so embarrassed!"
"Don't be," Harry said casually as he sauntered towards her.
"I am so pissed off with you, Harry Osborn!"
"Good, I like it when you're angry."
Screwing up her eyes in frustration, Hayley started to raise her voice, "Angry? Angry! I am fucking beyond – "
Harry reached for her face, pulling her chin towards him as his arm wrapped itself around her body. "Do you ever shut up?"he asked before kissing her forcefully. "I want to hear you scream my name, Ginge."
"Now is not the time – "
"Now is the perfect time. Did I not hear you saying you wished to fuck me?"
"You know that's not what I meant!"
"True…but that's what I would like you to mean." He waited for an immediate response, a snappy come back, but instead of receiving one, the Goblin could see her mulling over his request. "Would you not like that? Hmmm? Would you not like me to fuck you?"
Hayley scoffed, "You really are a pompous bastard if you think continuously saying the word "fuck" is going to make your offer that more appealing to me."
"I've got your pretty little mind thinking about it though, haven't I?" he purred, words like honey to her ears. Sliding his grip from her chin and round to the back of her head, he entwined his fingers into her messy auburn hair, tugging her ever that much closer. "Why don't you just give in? You, Harry, and I, all know that you want this," the Goblin spoke lowly, pressing his forehead against hers, "I crave you Ginge. Let me have you. Don't make me beg for this…"
Now that is an interesting concept, Hayley thought.
Shifting in his tight embrace, she batted her eyelashes at him, which tickled his skin because of how close they were. "What if I asked you to – "
"To what? Tell me – "
" – to beg."
A smirk spread across his lips. "You are so naughty, Ginge," murmured the Goblin slowly, "it's almost criminal."
He enjoyed her reaction to his heated joke, the way a small and natural smile tugged at the corners of her lips against her better judgment. How she almost rolled her eyes, half from his ridiculous insinuation, the other half due to the lust she was fighting. Her breathing had become slow and heavy, her cheeks red from the intensive heat between them both. No doubt that beneath her oversized t-shirt, her chest would also be covered in little splatters of adorable heat rash.
Slowly and deliberately, so that she could feel every single movement, he slid his hand from her waist to her hip. Hayley stiffened in anticipation as his hand continued to lower to her bum, then to her thigh, bringing her knee upwards so that her leg was hooked around his waist. Their foreheads were still pressed tightly against one another, and each noticed how their breathing accelerated as they made eye contact.
There was a pause…then all hell broke loose.
Their lips crashed against each other's, the pace faster than they had ever gone before. Teeth abraded kissable lower lips, whilst tongues dipped, swerved, and massaged the other, demanding to be the dominant partner. Tension rose through Hayley's body, every single sense was tuned into the affection she was receiving. She had a wild hunger driving her; one that she couldn't quite believe even existed within her, one that had come alive as soon as the Goblin said, "fuck."
Harry gripped at her leg punishingly, pulling on it until she got the message and did a small jump, wrapping her other leg around him too. She squeaked when his hands splayed across her bum, holding her steady whilst kneading the beauteous mounds of flesh. Hayley was so light that he had barely felt her tentative touch the first time they made love. But now she was expressing her rage most passionately. Her fingers raked through his floppy hair, nails gripping small tendrils as her tugs and mewling heightened his ferocity.
The redhead was giving as good as she got, and the Goblin relished in her confident fury.
"You…still…angry…with…me…?" he demanded hotly, completely overcome with the desire that was pulsing in his groin.
"Of…course…of course I fu….I am…" she replied. Her lips trailed away from his and down the good side of his neck, nibbling as she went.
The Goblin tried to stifle a groan that rumbled in his throat, "…fuck, Hayley… Be angry at Harry…"
"I'd rather not be angry at either of you!" she said, stopping her playful mouth.
"I'd rather you be angry with me everyday of the week if it gets you this excitable."
Hayley moved her position to face him, her hands clasping his face as she said exasperatedly, "You are impossible Goblin!"
"And you are fuckable!" he grinned, trying in vain to capture her mouth again.
"Stop saying that word!"
"Why?"
"It does things to me, that's why," she admitted with a huff. Her hands continued to hold his face, though her nails dug in slightly in her annoyance, "I don't know why, but it does."
"Oh, well, I think I'll have to use it again."
"Don't you dare – "
Tightening his hold, the Goblin started moving them both away from the door and deeper into the bedroom; "I am going to fuck you right now. Fuck you hard and fast. Fuck you until you scream my name."
Her response was breathtaking to him, how her head rolled backwards as she arched her back. Even the way she danced about in his arms, completely at ease with her budding sexual experiences, was enough to harden him further. He wanted to keep her body burning against his, to continue widening her horizons to every type of pleasure.
A robust chest of drawers was his destination. Initially he wanted to place her there to alleviate his arms and hands so as to feel her body more. But now he was toying with the idea of claiming her on the furniture.
As soon as he set her, Hayley was all over him, her hands going to his chest to feel his lean body, whilst his own flew to clutch at her face. They continued to descend upon each other, every kiss as precious and intoxicating as the last. At times their demands of each other were unforgiving.
In her heated hast to remove his navy shirt, Hayley's hands were slightly more harsh than they should have been considering the bandages on his body. There was such urgency behind her actions that gentle touches were long forgotten. But Harry didn't mind, he needed this, to taste her this way. This wasn't a question of love. This was about invigorating lust.
When he removed her own t-shirt, he was overjoyed to see her braless. Immediately his head dipped down to circle his tongue over her small, bare breasts. The whimpering sounds his actions elicited from her mouth were music to his ears.
"…hey…hey, you fucking pompous, rich bastard…" Hayley felt his lips smile against the skin of her breast as his teeth grazed her nipple,"…fuck you."
The palms of his hands ran over the glass like scars on her back, fingers massaging her fiery secret in anticipation, "Good, I hoped you'd might!"
Harry lifted his head, which caused her to whine in protest, but he placed a finger on her pouting mouth. He quirked an expectant eyebrow until she got the hint to lick it. When she did, he nearly lost his resolve altogether. Instead he withdrew the wet digit and traced it over her naked chest and down towards the elastic waistband of her leggings.
"Oh, the things I'm going to do to you," he muttered to himself as he reached beneath the fabric of her lingerie to cup her nakedness.
A little "o" formed on her lips as his fingers tickled her already damp bud. It was pure perfection how she became undone before him, not holding back in her insistent moans and the energetic rolls of her hips to meet his own curling motions inside her. She was so forthcoming in her sexual responses that he managed to sheath two digits inside, adding further pressure for when she was ready to take him.
"Please…please…"
"Please what?"
Throwing her head back in frustration, Hayley groaned at his silly little games, "You're going to make me beg now, aren't you?"
"Not if you ask nicely and use your delightful little voice to scream for me later, then I will give you what you want," he remarked, quickening the speed of his fingers which only made her hiss in response at the increased force.
"I think…fuck…I think all three of us know what I want."
"Say it," demand the Goblin, running his unoccupied hand along the length of her exposed, bruised throat as if to magic the answer he desired.
"Please, oh great Green Goblin, would you be so kind as to have sex with me," she said sarcastically.
"I would be kind enough if you said it properly."
Lolling her head forward, she placing her hands on his face and stared deeply into his eyes. She wanted to feed off his intensity, "Please fuck me, Goblin."
Instantly he released his fingers, and his hands start to tug at the clothing on her lower half, desperate to be connected to her again. And when the belt around his waist started to slacken, Harry smirked at the boldness of the fiery redhead. Even though the prospect of their imminent coupling was making her hands shake, he continued to be amazed how receptive she was to the passion and spontaneity of her second time.
He released himself from the confines of his jeans and was encouraged by the fire in her eyes. The feeling of penetrating hunger was mutual.
Hayley gasped as her tightness ensnared his length millimetre by millimetre, their actions momentarily slow. When his hilt was reached, they both shared a look that clearly said, "Go for it."
Rocking slower than he would have liked, Harry thrust himself as firm as he could to show her exactly how wondrous the feeling of pure want was. She rolled her hips back in response, meeting his every move with a breathy squeak. Their arms were wrapped around one another tightly, almost as if this moment might be their last. Which it wasn't, the Goblin would make sure of that. The redhead was his, and he tried to convey his undying love and possessive need in every single touch, roll, and thrust.
The position was close and intimate; the pace quickened, the feeling deep, their skin constantly touching. The wooden furniture rattled with the deliberate movements, like their own percussion accompanying their sexual rhythm. Hayley's bum started to ache from the harshness of the mahogany pressing into her tailbone but she didn't care; she would endure anything to feel this connected with Harry. Where her first time was special and beautiful in his understanding and kindness, her second was practically the opposite. This was raw, with every single push inside her exhilarating, freeing even, in its expressive intensity. She never wanted to feel empty again, emotionally or sexually.
The Goblin was not holding back and even though it initially hurt, she needed to feel this. To feel him and his sexual identity. Hayley knew the love from Harry when they made love, for she had felt it blossom over her. But now she needed to understand how his powerful Id worked, what he felt like in one of the most vulnerable positions a person could be in. To bare everything that he was to her as the Green Goblin, for her to be his secret keeper, it made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world…even if his sexual ministrations would undoubtedly leave bruises.
The cabinet banged erratically against the wall, signaling the imminent crescendo. Hayley wrapped her legs as tight as she could around her lover's waist, needing to add further pressure to what was stirring deep inside her. She clutched him in her arms as Harry braced his hands against the wall so that he could maximize the strength and power necessary to deepen his final thrusts.
"I-I-I feel…everything…"
"You are my everything…"
"As are you…I love you…"
"Then scream it…I'm going to…I can't take much more…" he breathed, trying to hold himself off from the much needed release; the desire to hear her scream was what drove him.
Hayley's whole body was full of tension, aching for liberation, which is why she gave into what he wanted, why she spoke the words that she knew would feed his ego, because in that moment, every single word she screamed was true.
"I AM YOURS GOBLIN!"
After an hours power nap, Harry felt the redhead stir beside him, and stared down at her with a satisfied smile. "See, don't our arguments always turn into something much more fun?" he asked, trying to draw her closer to his side of the bed.
Hayley huffed and rolled beneath the sheets before jumping out of bed. "I'm still not happy with you," she said, grabbing her discarded Metallica tee, hastily pulling it over her naked body. Luckily it was long enough to reach her knees.
"Hayley! God, just let this go!" Harry sighed loudly staring at the ceiling agitatedly. "None of the models ever complained this much," he muttered to himself.
Tears pricked in her eyes; he always had to spoil everything.
"Fine, be that way!" she screamed as she stormed into the bathroom, rummaging around under the sink frantically.
"What are you doing?" called out Harry, running a hand over his face in frustration; why did she always have to spoil everything? "Come back to bed Hayley! Your little brat act is getting old now!"
"I could say the same about you being a criminal, but I don't! Just because you're a murderer, it doesn't mean you can steal my fucking pills Harry Osborn!"
Instantly his face went serious, eyes glowing green. He glanced at his bedside table before ripping open the drawer and growling in anger upon finding the pill bottle missing.
"Hayley!" he roared, grabbing his night robe from the floor and tying it round his waist whilst leaping from the bed.
He arrived just in time to see Hayley putting down the bottle of tablets and placing one into her mouth. Harry grabbed her arm, spun her around, clutched her face and squeezed her cheeks painfully.
"Spit it out!"
Hayley glared angrily at him, but complied, using her tongue to push the little pill from her mouth. "Harry, what the HELL?" she shrieked, ripping herself out of his hands. "It's birth control! Jeez!"
Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Harry glanced down at the medication, "Why is it in the bottle for sleeping pills then?"
"I keep lots of pills in various places! It was something I adopted just in case I got caught stealing from Ravencroft. The bottle is labelled Amitriptyline but it also holds my migraine tablets and birth control."
Harry picked up the bottle and poured out its contents. Three different coloured and size tablets were scattered across the sink, confirming her story. He watched closely as her fingers reached out, taking another tablet and putting it in her mouth. Her dry swallow was quick, a motion she'd obviously perfect many times before.
"That was birth control. Or do you want an Osborn Jr. running around?" she goaded, quirking her eyebrow mockingly. "This next pill is for the migraine you are giving me." Her hand went to take another but harsh fingers prevented her wrist from moving, "Let go, Harry!"
"You have a dependency on drugs! You abuse them!" he growled, "I've seen your stash, remember?"
"I abuse drugs? What about you? You abused my trust!" Hayley shrieked, trying to take back her hand from his biting grip, "You're no longer taking yours when you clearly need them!"
"They were limiting me! You were trying to control me, supress who I really am - "
"I was trying to rehabilitate you! Help you!"
"If you embrace your pain, your darker side, it will only make you stronger."
"I have! I showed you my scars! Was that not enough?"
"You are always enough!" he beseeched her, stroking her wrist with his controlling fingers, "But you do not need medication. It will set you free, Hayley."
Tears started to stream down her cheeks, as she tried and failed to fight her case, "I do, I need them!"
"You are such a hypocrite! How could I ever trust you to medicate me, when you abused your position and stole medication you do not even need!"
"I have insomnia and anxiety, Harry, and your walking, your night terrors, they are not helping!"
"What prevents you from sleeping, huh? What goes on in your mind?" Harry released her arm and tried to bring her closer by holding her waist. "Do you see them dying? Do you feel the flames on your bare flesh, smell the skin burning and melting on your body – "
The redhead raised her hand and slapped him across the face, "How DARE you Harry Osborn! Don't you dare speak of things you do not understand!"
He reeled back and started to storm out of the bathroom, "I have things to discuss with Kraven. Hopefully your attitude will be improved when I return."
Hayley spent the rest of the afternoon shut away in the adjoining room, reading one of her favourite books by Allen Ginsberg. She also tidied her collection of medication, bringing the majority of it into her room, hiding a few bottles here and there. One still remained on the dresser.
Even though Harry had returned only a few hours ago, he had not sought her out. Which suited her just fine. The world of literature and music became her escape, and she got lost listening to the Imagine Dragons new album "Smoke + Mirrors". Only when the album ended did she realise that she was still in her pyjamas.
Following a long and soothing, hot shower, Hayley went into the adjoining bedroom to get dressed and sort out her lengthy, auburn hair. It was always such a chore to dry her hair, but one that she enjoyed nonetheless. She marvelled at all the different shades of orange and burnt ochre that were scattered throughout her sleek strands. The way the light caught her ginger tresses, making them shimmer and sparkle, was an aspect of her hair that she adored. Hayley didn't particularly like the way she looked though; skinny, bony, pale, and very plain, would be the words she would use to describe her appearance. But it was her hair that she truly loved. Its cascading beauty acted as a shield, her one attractive feature that she hoped masked, in her eyes, her simple God-given appearance.
She pulled out fresh underwear from her wooden chest of drawers, as well as a pair of black, leather-look skinnies and a green blouse from the sparse wardrobe. The clothes were new and made her appear more sophisticated. There was no particular reason why she wanted to dress up. It simply made her feel better to do so, and after that argument, she really wanted to feel a bit happier. A bit less like her usual self.
After quickly dressing, Hayley set to drying her hair with her Grandma's ancient hairdryer. She closed her green eyes and concentrated on the simple task, feeling at peace beneath the toasty air blowing from the dryer. This noisy serenity only lasted fifteen minutes but to Hayley it seemed like hours had gone by.
As she quietened the hairdryer, its task complete, she opened her eyes and stared at the pale girl with a lion's mane reflected in her vanity mirror. Gathering up her still warm hair, she began to deftly braid it while she hummed a non-existent tune. Hayley wove her hair effortlessly, not needing to observe her actions in the mirror before her – the entwining movements were as easy and as natural as breathing.
Her mind started to revisit the conversations she had had with Harry and Peter about betrayal. She replayed their words over and over, trying to gain further understanding, but the effort was always pointless. Even though she had chosen Harry, it did not mean that she would be a puppet, standing by and watching the possibility of impending and further criminal acts happening.
In her heart, Hayley still wanted to save them both, to be the underdog hero. However, she knew the chances of that happening were the same as pigs flying. She giggled quietly to herself at the image of pigs squealing loudly whilst their angel wings made them soar through the sky. The fantasy of flying had always appealed to Hayley. But then her mind flashed the memory of gliding around New York on the wings of an arachnid's web. Suddenly flying seemed like the worst thing to fantasise about.
With her hair complete in its stylised fashion, she glanced up to the mirror to see Harry standing ominously behind her. She jumped and then froze, her heart racing. The light from her vanity illuminated his sallow appearance, casting shadows in the contours of his face and chiselled jawline. Harry's eyes seemed hollow with dark circles surrounding his icy blues, appearing like a silent deathly spectre to haunt her. His skin was more noticeably green under the bright light, a sickly pallor that was frighteningly unusual when paired with his neatened hair, leather jacket and gifted, pinstripe scarf. Even though she loved Harry, it was still always strange to see his green skin outside of the institute, no matter what environment and situation they happened to be in. It was a further reminder that they were one and the same, and if today's earlier events were anything to go by, the Goblin was becoming far more dominant.
How is he always so quiet? I didn't even hear him come in! Hayley thought hastily.
Not knowing what to say or do, she began to start fiddling with her hair nervously. The slight movement caused Harry's eyes to dart to her hands, critically appraising her chosen hairstyle with a disgusted sneer. Hayley watched dumbly as his right hand ghosted down the offensive auburn plait. His dappled green fingers curled around it, nails pinching at stray hairs and the woven, bulky braid. It was not enough to hurt, but a clear message demonstrating his annoyance and distaste.
"Har – "
As soon as she spoke one syllable, Harry released her unsatisfactory braid and slammed down a red box onto the dresser in front of her. His lightening speed caused her to shriek and jerk backwards, her back instantly hitting Harry's solid chest. She could feel him breathing steadily despite the ferocity of his movements. Her neck started to tickle as he leaned forward to place his lips near her ear.
"Open it," he demanded quietly, his voice a low rumble. Harry began to stroke her shoulders and neck possessively, hands slightly trembling from the illness that plagued him. "Open it. Now."
Quickly pulling the luxurious, red, leather box towards her, Hayley's eyebrow quirked questioningly when she saw the familiar gold lettering of "Cartier". She hastily peeked up at the mirror to see Harry's eyes boring into her own. It was a stare that was almost always impossible to look away from. No matter what colour eyes he had, Harry always held such authority in them; the only difference, was that his blue eyes were easier to read, for they held a deep sea of human emotion; the Goblin's eyes were full of raw power and supremacy.
"Open it."
Her hands hurriedly removed the lid to reveal the same emerald necklace and earrings her mugger, Andrei Kuzmin, had taken from her.
The pads of her fingers carefully felt the expensive stones, her breath hitching, "You…you bought me a replacement?"
Harry smirked, "Not quite. I am simply returning my gift that was stolen from you."
Trembling in disbelief, Hayley whispered, "But how? H-How did you…"
Her unfinished questions hung unanswered in the air, her speech rendered mute as Harry leaned over her to pluck the cool necklace from its casing. She felt trapped with his hands fixing the piece of jewellery around her neck. The last time he had touched her throat in such a fashion, his hands had left ugly bruises, which still remained beneath the jewels.
As he drew back, freeing her from his imposing embrace, Harry placed a small kiss atop her head. The simple action was very condescending, and Hayley felt uncertain whether his affection was indeed genuine or just another display of power. She decided on the latter as he smirked wickedly at the expensive emeralds around her neck.
Miniature prisms of light glittered around her, and Hayley momentarily gaped at its splendour, much like she had done earlier with her own hair. She could not deny the adoration and awe that she felt towards the jewels, despite how materialistic that sounded.
"Green really does look good on you," Harry murmured quietly, the tone making her tingle inside. "Tell me, how does my gift make you feel?"
"I-I…what?"
"Words, Hayley, I need words not useless noises."
"I-I-I'm not sure."
Harry rolled his eyes, her answer evidently not satisfactory. "When you wear these emeralds," he said, his hand resting on the necklace whilst his fingers stroked the skin of her chest, "when the necklace touches your skin, like this, how does it make you feel?"
"S-special," she whispered, her heart still racing whilst her skin became speckled with heat rash under his stroking fingertips.
"Good. What else?"
The situation made Hayley feel uneasy for some reason, and her mouth opened and closed dumbly, so she tried again, "Beautiful?"
"Why?"
"Why? Be-because I'm not that p-pretty."
"Such self-esteem issues Ginge, I should buy you things more often," the Goblin tittered with another mocking eye roll.
"So, you bought me this to make me feel better about myself?" Hayley queried slowly.
"No, you misunderstand. I bought you this because you are as beautiful, if not more so, than these emeralds. It was the only stone I thought could do you justice."
"That's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me," she admitted breathily, leaning back into his chest and looking up at him, her emeralds eyes shining like the ones on her neck.
Harry grinned, putting his hands on her cheeks, gripping her face intensely. Then he stroked the column of her neck, eliciting a heavy sigh from the redhead. He enjoyed seeing her so receptive to his touch. Their earlier sexual antics proved that she still loved him, that she was his in mind, body, and soul. However he couldn't stop the nagging seed of insecure doubt that had been planted when Spider-Man stole her before his very eyes. He had been powerless to stop it, and it was not a feeling that Harry enjoyed at all. For all he knew, Peter could have poisoned her against him still.
And yet here she was, ready and willing beneath his fingers – that was not a reaction you could fake.
Harry bent forward and kissed her lips, revelling in the way that all the tension in her body was released by something as simple as a kiss. So he continued and increased his intensity. He quite enjoyed kissing her in this upside down position; it made her beautifully vulnerable. As the kiss deepened, his roaming hands brushed against her hair and he let out an irritated growl.
Hayley was so lost in heady intoxication that she barely registered that the slight roughness was something other than sexual. Then a small but sharp tugging motion broke the moment of sexual and splendid wonder.
Drawing back from her face, Harry stood up straight in total silence. His fingers began to move quickly, plucking at her hair, methodically unwinding the perfect ginger braid.
She resisted the need to roll her eyes at his actions. It was almost a textbook display of dominance. His preference for her hair to be in its usual sleek ponytail was not lost on her. Technically, she would rather keep her hair simple, but this small action of rebellion was an interesting way for her to monitor his state of mind. The more he began to trust her again, Hayley was certain his possessive nature would subside. It was really one of the only ways to consistently observe his behaviour against one constant variable, especially since he continued to resist their counselling sessions.
The plait had now become a symbol, a reminder of her past indiscretions of meeting Peter at Gwen's grave; she wore a braid the day those incriminating pictures where taken; the day Harry had discovered her secretive betrayal. He would always associate that event with her out of the ordinary hairstyle.
With her hair now released, Harry grabbed her hands, motioning her to put it into his preferred style. At this, Hayley did indeed roll her eyes at the absurdity.
"Better," he hummed, as the waterfall of auburn locks brushed freely against her shoulders, back in its usual high ponytail.
"How did you…how did the necklace…did someone find it?" Hayley asked, changing the subject from focusing on her hair. Besides, if these were the same jewels, how had Harry acquired them?
"No."
"Did…did you take these back when you k-k-killed Kuzmin?"
"No," Harry said simply. Then after a short pause he added, "He returned them to me. Then I killed him."
"Killing is wrong Harry, your actions define you, remember?"
Harry sighed in agitation, "I killed Kinsey for trying to rape you, and you didn't argue over that. You practically ordered me to."
"Yes but – "
"So why should you even care that I disposed of the scumbag who scared, mugged, and hurt you?"
Hayley swallowed thickly, trying not to cry in frustration. His logic was completely wrong, she knew that. No one in their right mind thought like that. And that was the point – he wasn't in his right mind. However, there was a small sliver of truth in what he said; why should she care?
Because murder was murder regardless.
"I do not care about that man, but I do care that you felt that you had to kill him! For me!" she whispered. "You can't just kill all the people who hurt me."
"You should really keep better care of these you know, we wouldn't want them going missing again. That is what you do with a possession, Hayley, you take care of it, guard it, and cherish it," Harry informed her before planting another patronising kiss on her golden head. "I will always protect what is mine."
His words scared her; what lengths would he go to in order to keep her safe? To protect her?
The conversation she had with Kraven rushed through her mind as Harry started walking away from her and over to the bedroom door. Did the hunter not say that she also had to protect Harry? What could she possibly do to protect the man she loved from the criminal life that he had chosen?
She was powerless.
"Harry," she called softly as he reached the door, his image reflected in the mirror before her, "Where are you going?"
Without turning, Harry said shortly, "Out."
"But you're…you're…" Hayley gestured to his still green skin when he eventually turned to face her.
He quirked an eyebrow, goading her, "So?"
"What if someone sees you? I don't think Manners will be thrilled if the newspapers – "
"Quiet," Harry cut in. "In case you are somehow blind, it is dark outside."
Her eyes flicked over to the window to see that was indeed dusk. "I'm sorry, I'm just worried – "
"Well, can't you just stop!" he yelled, thumping his fist against the wall. "I am Harry Osborn, the Green Goblin – I can take care of myself! You, on the other hand, seem to be continuously getting into trouble, what with multiple hospital visits, getting mugged, being kidnapped, nearly raped – "
"Hey!" she interrupted, getting to her feet angrily. "First of all, I didn't plan on getting kidnapped! It's not my fault that you and Peter are not man enough to put aside your differences. Two –"
"Careful Hayley, it would be in you best interest to sit down and shut up like the good little girl that you are," the Goblin murmured darkly, his eyes clouding as green as his skin.
" – Two, it was you who broke my fingers. Twice actually! And three – "
Suddenly, Harry was standing before her, eyes burning, "And what is number three Ginge? We so desperately wish to know."
Hayley swallowed, unsure whether to continue with her third point. But it had to be said. "Three…it is I who have been taking care of you!"
"You really have crossed a line," the Goblin growled, trying to control his temper. His hands started to twitch in anger, and this did not go unnoticed by his little redhead.
"What are you going to do? Strangle me to death like the last time?" Hayley spat heatedly. "You may have placed expensive jewels around my neck to make you feel better about yourself, but you won't be able to hide the purple bruises forever!"
"I can give you bruises that only you and I will see."
"Here, let me make it easier for you." Unclasping the necklace, Hayley placed it confidently onto the dresser, "Go on. Strangle me, Goblin. I know you want to." Rushing forward and grabbing his fidgeting hands, she held them to her neck, meeting his confused look with an air of indifference, "Don't you want to add more to the collection?"
The Goblin licked his lips and tensed his hands around her neck. "You shouldn't add more fuel to the fire…you might get burned," he snarled.
"I've already been burnt! Nothing you can do will ever trump that!"
"Oooo, Ginge, are you asking me to try? Provide me a match, and I will strike it!"
"You forget Goblin, I specialise in pyromania - you do not even know what a fire is!"
They glared at each other. Neither one wanted to be the first to break, so Hayley was surprised when the hands on her neck fell and those green eyes dropped their penetrative gaze.
"I'm going out," he repeated evenly, leaving no room for argument. His tone was sharp and clipped, almost daring her to protest again at his unaltered decision.
Hayley watched as he moved away, slightly astonished that she'd won this battle. "Fine."
When Harry reached the door, he turned to speak again but his eyes suddenly flared. "I better not find you've taken any of those pills," he ordered pointedly, his narrowed eyes fixed on the bottle beside the necklace on her vanity – it had gone unnoticed during their argument.
"If you want them so damn much, here, take them!" Hayley fumed, angrily grabbing the offending drugs and throwing them towards Harry.
They both watched the pills soaring through the air. The bottle never reached its desired target due to her poor aim, however, the message was clear.
"You are really testing my limits! I am not an enemy you wish to make, so stop being so damn ungrateful!" the Goblin snarled before storming from the room, the door slamming shut behind him.
With him no longer present, Hayley released a high-pitched sob. Her hands were trembling and she rubbed them harshly to make them stop. Had she really just done that?
Calling the Goblin's bluff was dangerous, but a huge win for her nonetheless. By asking and goading him to harm her, she had removed the element of dominant control. When given the choice to inflict more bruises, he had chosen not to. That proved to her that Harry still knew right from wrong, even when in a green rage. Hayley now had a confirmed tool to use against him – the love and affection he had for her. Not that she wanted to exploit their relationship, but he was certainly heading in that direction with his behaviour towards her. However, she couldn't use that technique every time he went crazy. The strangling she had received the previous day proved that; even though he loved her, in that moment, he had chosen to harm her.
She was always walking on eggshells with Harry, but now it felt like she was standing on a frozen lake. The cracks in her life were becoming more and more defined, and it was up to her to sink or swim.
Her eyes focused on the forlorn bottle lying on the floor. All these arguments over something as small as a simple tablet. Reluctantly, she wandered over to pick it up and remove it. The medication felt so heavy in her hands, with the realisation that their fight was unfinished, its weighty significance filling her with dread. It was practically predictable how he would react if he saw the medication again. So Hayley opened the top drawer of her vanity table and chucked them inside.
Was the drawer really the best place for them? She wondered.
After all, she had found them so easily when Harry had similarly hid them.
She moved and readjusted the stationary and notebooks contained in the drawer, so as to conceal the little bottle better. A few pages of notes from her Ravencroft patient observation files became disgruntled and disorderly. However, what caught her attention was a small, white card with elegantly printed typography. It was intertwined in her fingers before she even realised it. She brushed her thumb along its hard edges, gasping slightly when it cut her finger. Small specks of blood smudged over the card, but the name on it was unspoiled and still legible; Doctor Emily Baker.
Hayley glanced up at her reflection and licked her thumb to remove the blood. She leaned over the dresser, the light causing her to appear as a skeletal phantom, mimicking Harry's somewhat sneaky entrance earlier.
"I am the shadow. You are the dark," she whispered. "You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward…"
A week later, the New York City police discovered two unidentified, female bodies. Both young, overly tanned women had not a stitch of clothing on them, other than ruby red lipstick covering every inch of their naked flesh. One singular and offensive word was written over and over; "WHORE."
Neither woman had their head still attached to their inscribed bodies, for both wore bright orange jack-o-lanterns, which were grinning sadistically. The macabre Halloween Barbie's were posed outside the Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane. But what boggled the police investigators was how this crime was connected to the murder of Andrei Kuzmin, because the same killer undoubtedly did both. The pumpkin signature was far too distinct to be a copycat. Especially since there was one aspect from the first murder that had not been released to the press.
Along with the decapitation and use of pumpkins, the killer had poured gasoline onto the backs of all three victims, burning and mutilating the skin.
Where the flipping fudge monkeys have I been? Thank you all for being so patient with me! February was a bad month for me with family issues - my grandparents are ill and it's been a strain emotionally, thus my entire monthly absence.
However, BOOM! I will be back to my usual two monthly chapter updates, starting now!
Thank you, you wonderful readers, reviewers, followers and favouriters – and new readers, HELLO! You all keep me sane and loving my writing life. MUCH LOVE xxx – feel free to kill me for my absence…I deserve death by pumpkin bombs.
Huge loves to everyone who reviewed with a "hurry up" and "update soon" message, especially Guest, Fan, and Liana – you guys got my ass in gear!