Page 13 of Blossoming Dahlia

Asher

Iwould give anything for the fire alarm to go off right now or for an asteroid to strike me down where I sat. I’d been careless—mainly thanks to exhaustion—and I hadn’t expected Dahlia to come walking out into the room like she had. I should’ve waited until she was asleep to start going through the video files, and then only opened them after I’d locked myself in the room. I didn’t think she could handle any more traumatic news today, not after everything else she’d been through.

I honestly couldn’t believe it when that sorry excuse for a boyfriend had bailed on her in front of us. What self-respecting person breaks up with someone who just got home after being held captive for months? I didn’t approve of unnecessary shows of violence, but I seriously considered punching him in the face for what he did. And then, on top of that, finding out she had no home to go back to after all she’d been through? It was too much for one person to bear. I didn’t want to add to her pain, but I also refused to lie to her about her own life because that wasn’tmy place. I tried to give the barest amount of details as I could, softening the truth to lessen the blow.

“You want me to describe how he… hurt you?” I asked, begging her to take it back. I would never get the images out of my own head, she didn’t need to suffer the mental wounds on top of the physical scars she would have forever.

“Please? You have no idea what it’s like to have injuries you can’t remember getting,” she replied, her face twisted with pain. “The unknown is scarier for me. Please Asher,” she implored, and I knew, if I were in her shoes, I’d ask the same thing.

Steeling myself, I nodded, letting go of her hand. “He uh, he had you laying on your stomach,” I began, watching her face closely for any signs that it was too much for her to handle. “He used a hunting knife, and uh, straddling your legs, he made cuts downwards, very precisely,” I continued, demonstrating the motion with my hand. “It took about two hours for him to make all the cuts you have right now.” Dahlia shivered, her eyes looking past me, unseeing, as she tried to make sense of what I’d just told her.

“Does he… did he ever… uh...” she trailed off, her hands clenched in her lap. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

“From what I’ve seen, no,” I replied quickly, guessing her question, and I saw the color return to her face, some of the tension releasing from her shoulders. I wondered how long this question had been weighing on her, eating away at her sanity. “I believe he’s impotent,” I explained. “That’s why he ends up cutting. It’s the only way for him to get that… release.” Dahlia’s eyes widened, her lips parting in a silent gasp. I realized I was staring and I looked over her shoulder, refocusing my attention elsewhere until I was certain I wouldn’t be looking at her like that anymore.

“Thank you,” Dahlia murmured. “For telling me all of that.” I gave her a strained smile, wishing she didn’t have to hear anyof this at all. If only we could’ve caught him months ago, she could’ve been spared a lifetime of pain and horrible memories. My phone buzzed, breaking the silence that had settled over us. I checked it and smiled again, this time in relief.

“Amanda is here, she’s got your things,” I told her, and the change in her was immediate. She sat up straighter, her face brightening as she looked toward the door. A stab of envy passed through me. I wondered how you became someone who could bring out that sort of reaction in another person. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and I stood up to answer, telling Dahlia to wait on the couch just in case. I let Amanda inside, and she immediately ran to hug Dahlia again, even though they’d seen each other only hours ago. I watched the two of them disappear inside Dahlia’s room, shutting the door behind them.

This was good for her; it was healthy, integrating back into her old life. Enough had been taken away from her in one day, she deserved a bit of normalcy. And normalcy didn’t include me, I reminded myself grimly, grabbing a soda out of the fridge before settling back down on the couch, resuming my work. I rolled up my sleeves since Hunter wasn’t here to poke fun at my relaxed attire. I grabbed my laptop, making sure the sound was off before I resumed watching the horrible videos I had to study for my job. Hunter told me to separate myself from what I saw, it made it easier to study without it eating at your soul. But how could I do that, when the person in the video being… used and touched was the same glowing person in the next room? A person who, as far as I could tell, was kind and smart and should never have been tainted by someone as sick and twisted as Curing. It made me furious, a rage building inside me that was both dangerous and unprofessional. Maybe Hunter had been right about this case, maybe I wasn’t ready for this.

Laughter floated toward me from Dahlia’s room, and the juxtaposition of what I was seeing and what I was hearing was enough to make my head hurt. I tried hard to focus on the videos, making notes and concentrating on Curing’s behavior, looking for weak points. He was rigid, precise, and obsessive with his habits. There was no way he’d be okay to let Dahlia go, he would have to complete his ritual or the need would burrow under his skin like an insect and drive him insane. He would begin to unravel, and, hopefully, that was when he’d make a mistake, and we could catch him.

Switching to the next video, I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to watch as our killer stripped Dahlia and gave her a sponge bath. I had seen a lot of horrible things for my job, why did this bother me so much? I should ask Hunter to assign a tech to work on these, so I could be spared the images that were currently searing into my brain. But that would raise suspicions when I always insisted on going over every shred of evidence myself. And then someone else would be looking at Dahlia in this vulnerable form, I didn’t like that either. My body and my brain were at war with each other—this was fucking torture. My hands flexed restlessly, and I clenched my teeth, noticing for the first time a twitch on the screen. For a half-second, Dahlia’s face scrunched up in a frown. She was still unconscious, but it was like she was aware that a psycho’s hands were on her.Fuck this. I shut my laptop roughly and jumped to my feet, pacing around the room. Maybe I should go to my room for a bit; I did have the luxury of privacy and my own bed now, at least. But I would not be sleeping tonight, I knew that, not after what I’d been watching and not in this new, unpredictable environment.

My eyes darted to the fridge, and I clenched and unclenched my fists, wondering how many rules I was willing to break on this case. Hunter… he wasn’t as strict as I was. I knew he would relax tonight, probably pour himself a finger of whiskey andsettle in to watch something on TV. But that was his style, that was why people relaxed around him so easily. For me, the work was work, and rest was rest. I couldn’t separate the two, because if those lines blurred, where did it end? But Christ, I was so keyed up I could hit something, and I wasn’t a violent person, at least most of the time. Maybe something had broken in me during the last case, something that couldn’t be fixed.

Fuck it.

I stormed over to the fridge and ripped it open, looking over the contents. My hand reached out, hovering over one of the mini bottles of liquor lining the shelf. We didn’t drink on the job. But technically, it was the evening, and we were settled in for the night. One wouldn’t hurt, it wouldn’t impair my judgment, just… calm the storm brewing in my chest.

“My mom would say that you’re letting the cold air out.” A voice piped up, and I slammed the door shut in a panic, my brain rushing to process what my eyes were seeing in front of me—Dahlia’s blue eyes, her soft, full lips, the tiny freckle above her left eyebrow. Dark circles under her eyes, but there was a twinkle in them, a ghost of happiness that traveled to her lips, pulling them up into a teasing smile, so unlike the pain I’d just seen in the video. I looked over the rest of her, realizing she was no longer wearing the baggy clothes Hunter had brought for her. She was now wearing a pajama set that must be hers, a pink tank top that said “Don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”, and pink pajama bottoms covered in pictures of coffee cups. My eyes shot back to her face when I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, and I cleared my throat, backing away from the fridge.

“Sorry, did you need to grab something?” I asked, picking a spot on the wall to look at instead.

“That’s okay, I was just going to grab something for Amanda and I. We were going to watch a movie, is that okay?” Dahlia asked, looking at me nervously.

I balked at the question, why would she need to ask me if she could spend time with her friend? “Of course, you can do whatever you want,” I told her quickly. “Oh, just uh, don’t leave the room though. Without me, I mean,” I stammered, cursing myself and my stupidity. She laughed and nodded, opening the fridge and grabbing two sodas and, with a quick glance at me, a couple of bottles of liquor.

“Um...would you like to join us?” she asked, pointing at the couch, which I realized was where the TV was. Oh, that was why she asked if they could watch the movie, because it meant I would need to move my things. Amanda appeared in the doorway, observing us with an interest that made me squirm.

“I don’t need to, I can give you guys some space,” I told her quickly and moved to grab my things off the coffee table, dumping it on the conference table instead. “I can go in the room, uh, my room.” I pointed behind me.

“Oh god Doc, just stay. Live a little. I promise we won’t tell your boss if you decide to laugh or have fun or anything.” Amanda rolled her eyes, and I felt my face heat up.

“Uh, alright then, sure,” I replied, sitting on the edge of the couch closest to the conference table. Amanda smirked at me, and I noticed she was also in pajama pants, the silk fabric swishing around her legs as she walked over to the TV, grabbing the remote off the table.

“This is a pajama party, you know,” she told me matter-of-factly. “No belts or ties allowed.” I looked down at myself, frowning. I thought I was relaxed enough—my shirt was half untucked and my sleeves were rolled up. And my tie was, well, it was loosened, at least.

“Mandy, leave him alone, he can wear whatever he’s comfortable in,” Dahlia admonished, carrying over a glass and setting it down in front of her.

“It’s okay, I could probably change,” I mumbled, and stood quickly, tripping in my haste to get to my room. Fuck, this was so goddamn out of my comfort zone, I almost wondered if I should just stay in here the rest of the night. Hunter wouldn’t like that though; he’d say that this was a perfect chance to build trust and comfort. Fuck. I changed quickly, throwing on a pair of ratty sweats with the FBI logo on the leg that I’d gotten my first year. I pulled off my tie and my dress shirt, leaving on the blank muscle shirt that I’d been wearing underneath. There, that was relaxed, right? I wasn’t going to wear my actual pajamas, which were just my boxers—that felt inappropriate.

When I walked back out, Amanda whistled at me and Dahlia swatted her. “Damn Doc, you are full of surprises aren’t you?” She smirked, and I frowned, confused.

“Ignore her, Asher. She gets off on making men uncomfortable,” Dahlia replied, giving her friend a cold look. I took my seat on the corner of the couch, just as Dahlia walked over. She handed me a drink and sat down beside me, her thigh nearly touching mine. Amanda was already curled up on the other side, her feet up beside her. I propped my legs up on the coffee table, feeling the cushions sink slightly as Dahlia leaned back beside me. She brought her one leg up, tucking her foot under her knee, meaning her other knee was now brushing against my leg. I ignored it, taking a long drink of the soda she’d handed me. I sputtered and covered my mouth, surprised by the strong taste of alcohol.

“Sorry, it’s been a minute since I made drinks,” Dahlia apologized quickly. “Does it taste bad?” I shook my head quickly, coughing a bit.

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