I Should Applaud You

"Here."

I groan when different paint supplies get thrown on top of me. That fucking hurts. I roll my eyes and redirect my stare from the pitch-black above me to Weyden – one of the Dark King's puppets – standing in the doorway to my room.

A wicked grin plasters his utterly ugly monkey face. Actually, he isn't that bad to look at with his honey skin, golden wavy locks, and hazelnut brown eyes. But the asshole is rotten to the core, so ugly he is.

"Don't I get something in return?"

"Get lost, Weyden," I sigh tiredly and proceed to turn my back to him again. I am surprised Father didn't send Dorin to deliver the paint supplies. Now that I think about it, I haven't seen the angel in a few days. Maybe he is sick. Even angels get sick.

I close my tired eyes again. My body is sore all over, my poor head is pounding, and I am beyond tired, which is all part of the aftermath of recovering from Gaia's power.

"You know, I can easily give you another whipping if you keep that attitude up." A sharp, stinging pain shoots through my back only at the mention of another whipping. Right at the place of the more prominent scar decorating my back. A scar my Father doesn't even know is there. To be fair, he doesn't know about any of the wounds and pain Weyden has inflicted on me in the last couple of years. If he did, Weyden would have been turned into manticore food. There is a reason I never tell Father – or Dorin, for that matter – about Weyden and his hostile nature.

"Do your fucking worst. I don't care."

"Don't make me come over there."

I push myself to a sitting position and lean against the wall behind me. "Normally, you would've been at my side already, whipping the skin from my bones. Leaving my back in tatters, which you then proceed to heal, so the King doesn't find out you had your hands on me." I lean back with my head and stare Weyden right in the eyes. "So, what is holding you back now?" I lift my chin. "Did you grow a conscience?" I mock, smirking wickedly.

From the corner of my eye, I can see the Angry-Rebel-Leader-Dude look at me in a way I can't put my finger on. But whatever. I couldn't care less about him and his trail of thoughts.

I stare, challenging at Weyden, who is trembling like a saltshaker. He clenches his hands into fists. His knuckles turn white. I know from experience that Weyden doesn't have the best temper control. I also know from experience that I am playing with fire and am doomed to get burned. But the thing is...

I want to get burned.

Only pain, and my moments with Gaia make me feel alive. Since I had my fun with Gaia yesterday, I have to wait at least a week, maybe even two before Father lets her around me again. I need to be back at full strength. Other ways, Gaia's powers could kill me. Even if that isn't her intention.

So, pain is what I need.

Pain is what I long for.

I need it to remind me I am still alive.

Weyden is exactly the one who can help me with that. He is the one who keeps the numb feeling in my chest away. He will be helping me, where he thinks he's breaking me.

He may break my body, but not my soul.

I am the only one who can break my soul, and as long as I refuse to break, I won't break. Others can only break you if you let them.

I refuse to let others have such power over me.

"Awh, are you scared? That's cute."

"Don't provoke me," he warns me.

I chuckle without emotion. "Is that what you think I am doing?"

"You're playing with me."

"You are overthinking things, Weyden. You know-" I start, rubbing my chin. "I didn't think you were capable of that."

"Capable of overthinking?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"No," I shrug. "Of thinking in general. With a brain smaller than a rice grain, I should applaud you." Weyden charges at me. Before I can blink, his fists collide with my jaw. My teeth sink into my lip. Blood pools in my mouth, but I am not in the amount of pain I need.

I chuckle, "is that all you've got? You're getting weak!"

The last piece that was holding him back from going all in crumbles, and he starts punching away. Blow after blow. Hit after hit. Kick after kick.

He is doing exactly what I want him to do.