Judas Bane

by Hera August

  “That doesn't mean...” His husky voice is hesitant. He licks his lips when his sight frames in on different parts of her profile. “You have someone, don’t you? This... date…" He sighs like it hurts him.

  “There is no-one." Something beats and echoes under the lining of her skin, urging her forward and tearing her back. He leans over her.

  “No-one?"

  “No,” she clips out between another sniffle. “I'm fine. I don't need anyone."

  She wipes beneath her nose before she braves herself to look at him. Her lashes are wet from unshed tears, and reluctantly they trail slowly up his face, meeting his penetrating gaze. A tiny corner of her heart pulls hard.

  He can see right through her. Her loneliness, her solitude—it’s a part of all she is. But it has buried so deep beneath her need to survive. His eyes are telling her… he can see her.

  Really see her.

  His hand slips down her arm, but doesn’t loosen in strength. His thumb latches in the inner crease of her elbow and swishes back and forth over the fabric of her dress. She immediately pulls her arm away, wiping it as if he’s left a mark. “I don't need your pity."

  He straightens. “Who says it’s pity?” he says, his voice lowering dangerously.

  “Well, whatever it is—I don't need it."

  His nostrils flare as though stung by her sudden withdrawal. “Fine. If this is what you want."

  Her brows knit together. “What I want is none of your concern."

  His head cocks to the side; anger igniting in his eyes like a blue flame. “Do you even know what you want?"

  “Better than you.” She steps closer, squaring her shoulders. "You think you got me all figured out because to you I'm just some naïve girl…"

  “It’s obvious to me you're miserable—"

  “I'm not.”

  “—That you hate being here.” His hand slices in the air, cutting her off as her mouth opens to reject his words. “You’re scared of the world—”

  “Excuse me?”

  “—And so you hide up here pretending you don't care."

  “Shut. Up." Her teeth grind hard together.

  “Start being honest with yourself for one goddamn second and you'd see that. Stop hiding, Belle. Someone like you shouldn’t be afraid to go out and live. You have no idea how lucky you are—"

  “Are you done?”

  His chest heaves hard, making the white shirt tighten around his broad chest. “Are you?” he says, breathlessly.

  For the first time, Belle isn’t afraid of him. She’s too angry to be afraid, too angry at herself for being so transparent. Her shoulders rise and fall, the weight of defeat lying heavy on the side of her anger. Her hands rise, latching onto her sides.

  “You got it all figured out, don't you? Well you can pat yourself on the back because”—she shrugs her shoulders—“you're right. I hide, okay? Are you happy? I'm taking the easy way out.” Her voice shakes and she regrets speaking at all. But it’s too late to turn back. “I don't take chances and I don't make friends. But maybe I have good reason. Things happen..."

  “Nothing,” he whispers, “nothing should make a girl like you want to cower away and die."

  “Don’t you think I’m trying…? That's why I'm going away to college."

  “So you can make a new hiding spot for yourself? Give yourself more excuses to not live."

  She’s never desired to shove someone so badly than she does now. There is so much misplaced anger ripping across his features. His face is red and tight over her; she has no idea why.

  He has the audacity to be mad at me? Why? What is all the pretense for? Everything is a game to him and I’m sick of it. My feelings aren’t something to be toyed with!

  “Stop pretending you know what it's like to be me. I did try and 'live' as you call it, and I made the biggest mistake of my life… It’s been slowly killing me inside."

  “Move on."

  “You make them sound so easy to forget.” A nervous smile cracks on her harsh expression.

  “Move on—”

  “I can’t move on! I didn’t have a choice but to stop!” A bitter laugh escapes her mouth. For years now she’s been hiding her unhappiness, her shame, inside her. This whole conversation with Judas and her date with Emmett—it’s pushed her over the edge. And like a dam overflowing at the brim, she finally lets everything out. “The mistake I made—oh I think it was more than a mistake to drink every night, party with people I didn’t even know, only to have my drink spiked by some bastard who took me out into Providence Valley to rape me over the hood of his red truck!” The words rush from her tongue before she can bury them back deep inside her. Where they belong.

  “Providence Valley...?” His eyes dart down to the side, his brow hooded. “Rape?”

  “You really don’t remember me… Do you?” Her eyes flutter shut for a second. The pain of yesterday, returning.

  He looks back at her, shaking his head faintly. “What’d you mean, Belle?”

  Her heart races. For some reason she's terrified of him finding out the truth of who she really is. But there’s no going back.

  “We’ve met before, Judas...” She swallows. “Think back four years... Me with shorter hair… Bright red it was… back then...” He looks at her as if he's looking at a ghost. She places her hand on her right arm, indicating the bullet he took for her. “You saved me, Judas.”

  His eyes dart everywhere as though he’s trying to focus on reality. They snap back to hers. “That... that was you?”

  She slowly nods her head. “So don’t talk to me about moving on from mistakes—some you just can’t fight.” She waits, her eyes on his, but he doesn’t react. He doesn’t say anything. His dark presence just lingers over, stalls on the edge. "I need to get out of this dress." She turns toward the door. She wants to run away, to never come back.

  “Wait." He grabs her hand, forcing her to stay. "Four years ago... then that means…" He lets go of her as if her touch burns through his flesh. "…you were only—”

  “Fourteen.” She fidgets with the hem of her dress, desperately hoping he doesn’t judge her. “It’s amazing how a bit of eye-liner and a short skirt can make you look older...”

  “Jesus fucking Christ..." The breath he draws out is long and heavy as if it weighs a ton. "Jesus, Belle… you… What the hell made you drink so much at fourteen?”

  The urge to look away overwhelms her then, and she pads over to the window. She can’t look at him and say the rest. His eyes are too emotional, two brewing storms of discontentment. He still looks a bit angry, but at what, she can’t tell. So instead, she stares out at the night Sky.

  She starts slowly, her breath shaky, “I-I was thirteen at the time... I didn’t know what I was doing, he… he was a lot older… late twenties… The town’s heartthrob. All the girls crushed on him." She laughs nervously, her eyes lost in the pain. "His father owns this big pharmaceutical company. Good-looking as well as rich.” Sighing, she shakes her head. “One night I had a fight with my parents... We were poor... Life... life was hard...” Her throat clogs up and she takes a second to breathe deeply.

  “I went to the park to get away and there he was. He was drinking and he seemed so happy when he saw me. He genuinely seemed to care that I was upset. He listened, he understood.” She smiles bitterly, recalling her naivety and loathing herself for it. "First time I tasted alcohol. I didn’t care because all I wanted was to feel not alone. He made me feel... special.” Her eyes drop to the floor. Her body trembles, remembering. “The whole night’s a blur… The drink got to me I suppose and the next thing I remember was being naked in the car under him. I’ve never felt so cheap, so stupid. He dressed and got out of the car… He didn’t even say anything to me before he left… It happened so fast...”

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he asks, softly.

  She should have stayed quiet.

  Belle likes the quiet.

  “I couldn’t… When it happened, about a mon
th later, my father gets offered this amazing job. A job his hot-shot father got my father. All of a sudden my family has more money than we could ever have dreamed of... Before... before we were so poor we couldn’t feed ourselves some days. If I said something, my father would have lost his job—and how could I look my parents in the eye and tell them that their innocent thirteen-year-old daughter was not so innocent? How could I tell them I let a man take my virginity in the backseat of a car? Don’t you understand? It would have destroyed my family.”

  Her hands are over her eyes, sweeping across her brow in deep hard strokes. “After that night I just spiraled out of control. I couldn’t deal with what happened to me. I drank most nights, went out all the time, hung around with the older kids… My father worked all the time, he didn’t even notice I was gone—but when you saved me, Judas, I stopped. Stopped everything. I took control. It was the last time I let my guard down and if that makes me some cold bitch who hates the world, then so be it. Because I'm not changing. If I didn’t do it for my parents I'm sure as hell not going to do it for you.”

  “Belle."

  "I should go," she says, whisper soft, her lips quivering. Her eyes strain to hold in the tears threatening to spill. She begs for her sorrow to disappear, willing her heart to turn to ice as she chokes back the sob that threatens to break the defenses she’s built against the world. Her life doesn’t make sense anymore. Everything had been going just… fine. But now, it’s all one big mess.

  Ever since a certain blue-eyed beast crashed into her hiding place.

  She turns away from him and takes a small step toward the door. She can’t let him see her cry. She never lets them see her cry.

  But Judas startles her when he appears right behind her. Whipping her around. she fights for balance, placing her fingers on his large forearms. He lays a gentle hand on her back and soothes caressingly, pulling her close to his chest. The thin material of her dress makes her feel naked against his hard body.

  “Don’t hide from me,” he says.

  As she feels the ice melting, her tears flowing, dreadful memories of that night burn her very center; the pain, the anger, all contained inside, with nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide.

  Except with Judas.

  She buries her head into the warmth and safety of his chest. The sobs she has caged for so many years… finally break free.

  It feels like forever when she finally pulls away, watching him with her tear-stained face. He reaches up, tenderly wiping away the remaining tears. His hand moves over her, covering the side of her face as his thumb sweeps across her swollen cheek. He looks pained.

  “You'll regret it if you don't."

  “Wh-What?” she asks, hypnotized by his touch.

  “Not living, not taking a risk,” he whispers across her skin. “Trust me, I know more than you think…” He licks his lips before he goes on, “You might as well be dead."

  “I'll be fine.”

  His head shakes lightly when his eyes look down openly at her. “Don’t lie to me."

  His stare is a trap she feels caught in. She can’t look away. His gaze is weaving some sort of magic inside her, making her blood simmer through her.

  “I thought you didn’t care.”

  Swallowing, his eyes glow as they voyage over her lips. “I don't."

  She smiles tenderly. “Maybe I don't believe you this time."

  His eyes cloud over when he places his hands delicately at the sides of her head, his fingers skimming through her hair. The soft caress shoots delicate shivers through her spine. His lips brush her forehead in a simple warm kiss that seems to pierce and sink in her skin. Belle gulps, the oxygen throughout her body freezes in place.

  They stare into each other’s eyes, caught together by the tenderness of his kiss. He feathers his lips near the corner of her lips and kisses her as softly as before. Her heart hammers, blood rushes to her cheeks, shivers take over her entire body. The silence between them echoes on and on, except for the loud thumping of her heart.

  "Is that the truth, Belle?" he whispers, their lips a kiss away.

  The sadness usually buried in her eyes skim the surface. "It is."

  He inhales sharply. "I hate it when you look at me like that."

  "Like what?"

  He licks his lips and she almost feels his tongue on hers. "So needy. It makes me want to do crazy things."

  "Crazy things?" she murmurs. Her heart stumbles at his words, and like a shot, it’s racing harder than it has ever done.

  "Yeah, crazy things," he says, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.

  A small gasp escapes her lips. "I don't look needy."

  "Yes, you do. It makes me want to... protect you." Grazing his lips across her ear, he whispers, "It makes me want to... forget."

  "Forget?" Her whole body trembles from anticipation.

  "Forget everything. Everyone." Judas steadily tilts her face until she’s looking straight into his eyes. "Want to help me forget?" he asks, feasting his fiery eyes on her.

  "Very much so," she whispers. The words slip out so easily. Naturally.

  He hesitates for a split second, making her heart feel a little kick, and then his eyes dive deep into her eyes as though he’s seeking to find her hidden secrets. A hot flame of desire licks across her tummy.

  She can feel herself slipping.

  Losing control.

  Every sound, except her beating heart, mutes.

  Time stops as soon as his lips claim hers.

  Every feeling she’s been trying to hide, collides into her like a raging storm the instant their lips touch. Suddenly, nothing matters, other than keeping him close to her. Never letting go.

  Judas deepens the kiss with his tongue, his hand moving to caress the back of her neck with just the right amount of pressure to send her into ecstasy. Part of her is stunned at what’s happening. This is Judas. The intruder who broke into her home. The mysterious hero from the past.

  He pulls away slightly, biting his lip, and then she blinks, and she’s reluctantly backing away. He takes another step back from her too and jams his hands in his front jean pockets.

  “I better get some sleep.” He clears his throat. “It's, uh, getting late."

  “Yes, of course.” Her cheeks prickle and she stammers as she makes her way to the door. Everything is a blurry haze, but she's never felt so high in her life. “Goodnight.” Her hands smooth down her arms, over and over. "I'm sorry."

  “Don't be,” he says, stopping her. She looks up at him.

  “Sweet dreams, Judas.” She wraps her hand around the doorknob, a pleasant smile drifts across her mouth.

  “Belle?"

  When he says her name like that, her whole body feels like something warm is being drizzled over her. "Hmm?"

  “What’s the name of that guy?"

  “What guy?” It takes her a moment to understand, and when she does, the red flush deepens across her face. “Oh, um… Why?"

  “What’s his name, Belle?” he asks again, his tone deadly serious.

  “Emmett Irving... Doctor Irving."

  “As in Irving Pharmaceuticals?” he asks, his brow deepening.

  “Yes. Why?"

  He drops his gaze to the floor for a second, his jaw tightening. Clenching his fists, he lifts his eyes to meet hers, his expression hard. “The antibiotics… It was him you went to?” She nods, unable to say it out loud. “And the date tonight—”

  “My favor to him…” She looks away from him, her hands trembling.

  “You did that for me.” It isn’t a question, and he utters it so quietly, she’s sure he said it for his ears only.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she murmurs.

  “No…” He shakes his head, sighing. “It doesn’t…”

  “Judas?”

  “‘Night, Belle. I'm not saying it again." He smiles.

  She giggles softly in her throat. “Get some rest.”

  “Belle?” She waits, never turning around. “What that assho
le did... it wasn’t your fault.”

  She smiles, more openly this time, and slowly closes the door behind her.

  For the first time, in a long time, Belle no longer wants to hide from the world.

  SOMETHING IS OFF.

  Her head shoots up. She whips the covers from her body, rubbing her eyes as they dart around the room. The adjustment of the severe light makes Belle squint, and she glances at the nightstand next to her bed. 8:13 AM. The blinds clatter and a small breeze flutters through her room. She darts another look at the window. The more she looks at it, the more deep her brow curls under her hair. Her bare feet touch the rug, her steps mute as she ambles over to the window.

  Then it hits her.

  I never opened the window last night... I closed it because it was quite chilly… Judas… The things he said last night... Oh no!

  Without thinking, she bolts her way up to the attic, taking two steps at a time. Her heart beats so loud and hard against the wall of her chest, she won’t be surprised if it shatters through her ribs. Her palm is sweaty and shaky as they meet the cold metal knob. This time she doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t wait to figure out what to say or do, what to expect.

  The door opens slightly. She pushes it back farther, waiting. Emptiness, cold and harsh, enters her lungs. Her eyes scan the room, once, twice. She steps inside, her eyes continuing to roam around, confident she’s missing something. A note, a message of some kind.

  You wouldn’t just leave without... You never gave me a chance to say goodbye, Judas… The kiss last night… You’re gone; you’re never coming back…

  Something glints by the small window near the futon. The Sun's light rains down through the small opening. Her feet brush against the wooden floor as she pushes herself forward, misery hitting her from all sides when she realizes what it is.

  His silver cross.

  The tears fall—harder—laughing at her as they drop against her cheeks.

  Damn you.

  He isn’t going to get to her. He has no right to come barreling into her life, turning everything she knows, everything she thinks she wants, upside down, only to leave, just when she thinks she’s figuring herself out. Just when she thinks she’ll find... a friend.