The Butcher of the Bay Part II - J. Bree Page 0,36
vengeance, but I never thought he’d be able to toe the line between violence and pleasure like that. To be honest, I had never even thought such a thing existed.
I had felt the pent up energy in him, the need for things that I can not offer him, so I pushed him to leave me for the night, even though I’m feeling a little unsure of how to feel about being here alone once more.
Will I be scared? Jumping at any little noise?
I don’t. I feel an easing in my chest the moment he begins to get ready to go out for the night, like having him here is a crutch that I don’t need. It’s not that I don’t love him, I do more than I’ve ever loved before, but the apartment is more to me than just his presence.
It’s my solace, my quiet and safe space. My sunrises and the smell of my bread baking. It’s the text messages from mon Monstre while he’s out working to let me know he’s safe and thinking of me. It’s everything that is right in my world and there’s no way I can leave here. Not right now.
My head still hurts if I try to turn the TV on or look at my phone. He tries to talk me into staying in bed while he is gone but frustration begins to climb up my spine at laying down for so long.
So I go searching for my paints.
I might be once again damaged by the things that have been done to me but I'm not broken. I'm not that hollow shell of a girl I was the first time I arrived at the apartment. I get to watch the sunset out of the large window again before Illi goes out for the night. I sit on the small rug with a cup of coffee clutched in my hands and right before he leaves mon Monstre joins me, sitting behind me and pulling me back so I'm tucked up on his chest.
"I'm okay, mon Monstre. I'm alive and I'm happy.” I murmur, and he grunts under his breath at me.
"Baby girl, you're the strongest woman I've ever met. I've never been prouder than when I saw what you did to that rapist cunt. I'm not worried about your mind, I'm worried about your concussion. I can't have you in pain, baby. I start thinking about bleeding the whole fucking Bay dry for you when I see you wincing. I shouldn’t have been so rough with you but I can’t fucking regret it.“
I chuckle, softly so I don't do exactly that. "I'm going to paint today. I'm going to spend the entire night here doing what I love while you work. Nothing would make me happier than having you last night and then spending my day doing this."
His chest rumbles, the noise entirely satisfied, and he kisses my shoulder. "Take the day, baby girl. Take as long as you need to rest up. Paint me something."
When he finally leaves, his leather jacket tucked over his weapons but in no way hiding them from the world, I finish my cup as the sky finally changes from the beautiful pinks and oranges and into the inky darkness of the night.
I could paint that for him.
I could paint our reunion sky, the one that means so much to us both, but that feels... futile. Silly, and unproductive.
I know what I should paint, I know what would help us both the most, but can I be brave enough to do it? Could I paint the faces ingrained into my soul, give them life again on my canvas? Would bleeding myself out in the oils help rid myself of their stain or would I send myself spiraling, down so deep even mon Monstre couldn't find me?
I'm brave now.
I'm not broken and I won't be frightened by the memories of men who are already dead, their foreheads marked with targets they cannot see but must know somewhere in their souls that the Butcher is coming for them.
I find the biggest canvas in my supplies. I'd planned for it to be a portrait of mon Monstre and myself, something to hang in our bedroom as a testament to us but this feels important. I cannot be the smiling beauty on the arm of her man with this stain. I must purge it from me and be done with that part of my life.