“Brother, Gabriel Hollow. They’re not full siblings though and her piece of shit father is Dan.”
“Gabriel Hollow, hmmm no middle names from the looks of it. Gabriel, twelve, birthday April ninth. Izel, twenty-two–”
“She’s twenty-one,” I interject. She told me she was twenty-one, unless…
“Birthday, oh interesting, December twenty-fifth. A Christmas baby, how nice.” Aziza laughs and continues on talking. Only I can’t hear her because I’m stuck on the fact her birthday just passed, and I had no idea. She never said anything, why?
“Z?” Aziza breaks into my thoughts.
“Find him,” is all I say before hanging up and heading back to Izel’s room. The moment I step inside, I find her crying and speaking low to Gabriel. Both of them snap their heads to me as soon as the door closes.
“Zion,” Gabriel mutters, standing from the bedside. I know what he’s trying to tell me without the words. Izel refuses to meet my stare and that enrages me. I shouldn’t get mad, but the simple fact is she thinks I’ll look at her differently because grown ass men attacked a female.
“Let me talk to Izel,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Gabriel stands, kissing the side of Izel's head before walking around me and leaving us.
She still refuses to look at me, her hands trying their best to intertwine with each other. Her nervous habit she often did, and yet nothing enrages me more than her doing that because she’s nervous of me. She won’t even look at me.
“Are you scared of me now?” I find myself asking, not sure what I will do if she is actually scared of me.
Izel shakes her head, glancing over before dropping her head once more.
“Then look at me.”
When she still refuses, I’m at her side instantly in her face. Her breath hitches, wide-eyed, and as much as she might try, she’s not scared of me.
“You weren’t scared of me in that basement, when I murder people in front of you, and not when I showed you who I really am. So don’t be afraid of me now. I didn’t like when you screamed at me like you were scared, and I won’t tolerate you not looking at me anymore.” Ripping my mask off, I throw it against the wall before I’m in her face again. “You wanted to see my face so fucking bad, you begged me. And now you won’t look at me. Well, too fucking bad, Izel–”
“Stop calling me that,” she mumbles.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hisses, gripping the covers in her fist. If she had enough strength, she’d probably smack me. The idea turns me on, knowing how sassy and feisty she gets.
“What am I supposed to call you, huh?”
She grits her teeth, glaring at me.
“Come on, tell me. What am I supposed to call you?” I say, brushing my nose against her.
“Red, you’re supposed to call me Red….” She sighs.
“Well, Red, if I’m supposed to call you that, then that means you’re mine. And if you’re mine, you know what that means?”
Shaking her head, she drops her head slightly until her forehead brushes against mine.
“You don’t hide yourself from me,” I growl, tipping her chin up. I try to avoid the bigger bruises, not wanting to cause her pain. “You’re worth everything to me; you are everything. You’re not disgusting, you’re beautiful to me.”
“I’m used, I’m dirty.” She hiccups, a tear dropping down her cheek.
Against my better judgment, I swipe my tongue around her cheek, licking her tears off. “What they did to you doesn’t make you used or dirty. It doesn’t make you anything but a survivor for what they’ve done. And I’m going to kill him.”
“Promise me?”
“I promise.” Whatever she wants she gets. “I’ll burn the world down for you, and I’m going to start with him.” Kissing her forehead, I take in a deep breath finally, breathing her in, knowing she’s alive.
Climbing beside her, she presses her face against my side. Stroking her head, I begin rubbing circles into her head.
“Your problems are my problems,” I whisper into her ear. “I knew you were the one when I realized I could handle your problems. When I wanted to take them on as my own, I knew you were it for me.”