Page 124 of His Cursed Heart

Hours passes by and I can't feel my back anymore. Althea put some music in the background, but I can't hear it because of the buzzing. I don't say anything though because she enjoys it.

The words in my brain are at the tip on my tongue, deciding if I should let them out or not. I move my head to the left and see Althea over the middle of my back, fading some shadows.

"Are we gonna pretend that Hanibal didn't said that your mother cheated on him?" I say and feel Althea's eyes to me.

She continues to tattoo, and after I think that she

doesn't want to talk about this subject, she speaks low. "Mamma always loved Hanibal. Since she was a teenager, then a betrayed woman. Her love for him never quietens, and that's one of the reasons why she got sick.

"They fell in love at a young age. Mamma was the daughter of one of the Captains and probably the most beautiful woman in Italy. When they started to get interest in each other, my grandparents arranged a marriage between them, and of course they were excited. In this world we don't choose who we marry, but they had luck." Althea says and then stops for a second. "You and Keres had luck." I curse and stay silent.

I want to say that I regret asking Keres to be my wife, but she wouldn't believe me. Me and Keres always acted like two best friends instead of future husband and wife. The connection I have with Althea is strange, but the most incredible feeling.

"They had Keres in the first year of their marriage and Hanibal was obsessed with her. She was everything like him." She lets out a bitter laugh. "After six years from my birth, Hanibal started being distant with me. He couldn't even look me in the eyes, and Mamma started her heartbreak. They fought every night. Yelling, crashing, screams. He always knew about her lover, didn't knew who he is and Mamma never told him. That's why Hanibal started being abusive towards me. Keres was his favorite while I was hers."

I try to keep my anger in check, focusing on the needles, but it feels impossible. How many fights has she fought?

How many has she lost?

"I met my mother with a broken heart from both her husband and lover."

I shut my eyes at the tremble in her voice.

"If she loved him, why did she cheat?"

"That's a question you have to ask her when you meet her in hell." She murmurs and goes back to her activity.

The biggest question stays stuck in my head. I have the answer which seems to be the truth, but can she handle it?

Althea is strong, but how much does she have to endure before she collapses? It's a risk I won't take with her. I'll make her happy. Vincent will make her happy.

She just needs to let us.

I feel my eyelids closing from tiredness. I think it's almost midnight when the buzz stops and Althea moves out of the chair.

I groan as I move, my back numb as hell. I try to stretch, but Althea slaps my arm with a frown. She puts a mirror in front of me and I can see the anxiety in her eyes. She puts another mirror behind me, and when my gaze found my back in the front mirror, my eyes snap.

My sanity is gone when I look at the dimensional blade that sits in the middle of my back. Drops of blood drip from its sharp point and what makes me wide my eyes is the fox at the handle of the blade. Her tale is around the first half of the blade and her head rests on the right handle.

I move my gaze to the woman next to me. In one slide, I take her waist and slam her body to me. My lips find hers, my lips sucking her eager tongue.

"Althea," I try to express my shock. "Althea, holy fuck," She laughs and pats my chest.

"Because you always call me little fox, I though it's a good way to mark you."

"And you let us call you heartless." I murmur in awe.

"I'm not heartless, Keaton. I just learned to use my heart around people who deserve it." My breath gets stuck in my throat.

I look at her soft expression and I feel my knees weak, and my heart numb.

If before I didn't knew how to live around Althea, now I have to learn how to live with the love I feel for her, because it might kill us both.

My gaze is stuck on the muscled back that wears the realest blade I've ever done and the fox wrapped around it with a vicious look.

Everette is staring at his tattoo with a look of awe while my heart feels in danger. For years I tried to live without the burden of emotions on my shoulder. They always made me weak, and I never really deserved them.

What was the point of feeling them when people were cursing me for existing?

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