Monster, Killer, Crazy, Perfect

“Tuvo! Where the fuck are you?”

Tuvo was sitting at his desk. He didn’t say anything, just kept reading his papers. He had work to do today. Meetings to plan, the stupid merchants wanted to raise the price for iron, but Tuvo needed that iron for guns, knives, utensils. Getting supplies for an entire army was so fucking hard on a budget. And the general expected him to have a contract ready in a few days. Like the general had ever done anything useful in his life.

“Tuvo! I- oh.”

Greyson stopped at the open door. She stalked into the office, sitting down in the yellow velvet chair in the corner that only she used. She curled her knees to her chest, her pants ripping even further at the knees. She needed new pants, but she wouldn't let Tuvo get her any. Said they smelled like home.

Tuvo looked up, scooting his chair back, “Come here.”

Greyson stood up, walking over and sitting on his desk, right in front of him. Tuvo put his hands on her knees, rubbing them soothingly.

"What happened?"

Greyson crossed her arms, looking away, “Nothing, fuck ass.”

Tuvo kept massaging her knee with one hand, the coal dark skin marred with cuts and scars, the other picking up his papers again, started reading. They sat like that for a long time.

“I saw her.”

“Who?”

Greyson smacked the papers out of Tuvo’s hand, “Look at me dumbass!”

Tuvo looked at her, calm, “You didn’t mean to do that.”

Greyson shook her head, “Not really. I’m sorry.”

She slunk off the desk, starting to pick up the papers, like a spider child, but Tuvo stopped her.

“It doesn’t matter. Just tell me what happened.”

Greyson stood, dropping the papers, tears already spilling down her chin. She fell into Tuvo’s lap, curling up, like a dead spider. Again, there was long silence. Greyson dug her face into Tuvo’s chest, and Tuvo held her, running his ink stained fingers through her stark white hair.

“I- I saw Klara.”

“Klara?”

He’d heard the story. Of course he had. Greyson had told him her life story a million times over. But she needed to talk.

“My fucking sister! You know her! You’ve seen her. Fucked her.”

He'd only ever seen Greyson's cruel drawings of Klara, the ones where Klara had devil horns or dragon wings or was made up of hatched lines, making a demon like figure. But she always had long, dark hair, and was short and plump. The complete opposite of Grayson.

“Where did you see her?”

“You fucked her! You fucking- You- She's my sister!”

Greyson uncurled, stood up, sad tears replacing angry ones, but as soon as she was on their feet, she swayed, falling back into Tuvo’s lap.

“Where did you see her?” Tuvo repeated, patient. She needed a mental breakdown, well what she needed was fucking help, but all Tuvo could do was give her a safe space to try and heal.

“In the washroom.”

“How did she get in there?”

Greyson curled back up, her back against Tuvo’s chest, all tense, “She wasn’t. Shit, I know. I know! But she- she was wearing that fucking noose, it was her necklace. She was a queen. It was her neck crown. She was beautiful.”

“Should I be jealous?” Tuvo asked, his eyes twinkling.

Greyson hit his chest, sighing and sinking into him, “No. She’s dead. I killed her.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I did! I did,” and Greyson was crying again. “I killed her. Shit, I killed her! And you fucked her. I saw you. You know her. You know her. You know her. Oh God, she’s rotting, with those evil worms. This is all my fault! How could I do that? I put the noose around her fucking neck. I pushed her off that fucking box. I stole her breath. It wasn’t God. It was me! I did his job, I killed someone instead of him, and that’s wrong! It’s his job! But it felt so right.”

Tuvo knew, from piecing together Greyson's stories, that Klara hadn’t jumped off a box, hadn’t hung herself, and she certainly hadn't been murdered. By Greyson or anyone else. She’d kissed the forbidden silver, stuck a quick goodbye in her mouth, lit the fuse and ran, as Greyson put it. And in front of her own little sister.

Greyson threw back her head, nearly hitting Tuvo in the face, laughing hysterically, still crying, “It felt so good. I am death. I am death now. It’s my job now.”

She stopped moving, frozen still, then shook violently. Tuvo, when he'd first seen Greyson do this, though she'd been having a seizure, but she wasn't. She stopped after a moment, breathing hard, and stood, done crying, done laughing. Just a blank look was left on her face.

“Come here,” Tuvo said. He stood, grabbing Greyson’s arm. He pulled her close, kissing her, soft and gentle. Greyson pulled close, pushing harder, shoving Tuvo into his chair, straddling him, having to bend over to kiss him. Tuvo could still feel the tears on her cheeks. He could feel her wet lashes leaving streaks on his face, could feel the fear and sadness sloughing off her in waves. How could someone so perfect, so beautiful and smart and strong, be so broken? How could anyone hurt someone so lovely?

Tuvo’s hands were on the bare skin at her waist, but he stopped. This wasn’t the right time. Greyson was still in so much pain. She needed assurance, even if it would ruin the moment. Even if he wanted to go further so fucking bad.

Tuvo pulled back and whispered, “You didn’t kill her. You are not a monster.”

Greyson froze at the last word, stunned. She fell off the chair, but landed on her knees, like a cat would.

Greyson looked up, so hurt and scared, like she'd been burned by the word.

“You think I’m a monster?”

“I would nev-”

But she was already gone. Tuvo sighed. Sometimes it was so hard to know what to do with her. He went back to his papers, suddenly shoved into the world of agreements and treaties again. Greyson would be back. Or maybe not. Tuvo was never one hundred percent sure.