Gunter guided Chris upstairs to her room.
She moved robotically, her eyes never looking at anything, just a glazed over facade. Christopher did nothing as Gunter sat her down on her bed. Her eyes never left the wall even as Gunter left the room.
Fearing the worst, once Gunter had made it down the stairs he took the key from around his neck and locked the outer door to her room. He wasn't sure what had happened that led to this moment, but whatever it was had had a drastic effect on Chris. Gunter went to grab a bowl and a washcloth, trying to be as quick as possible to minimize the time she was left alone.
If he strained he could hear the quiet voices downstairs, they sounded passionate, but the risk of them making a stupid decision was much less than Chris's. Gunter wondered if she had moved since he left. He grabbed a bowl from his room on the second landing, turning into the door right before Zeven's room. Filling up the bowl in his small bathroom sink, he grabbed a small towel and threw it over his shoulder before heading back to Chris.
Chris had not moved, and Gunter didn't know if that fact made the situation better or worse. She gave no indication that she noticed his entrance, her eyes were glazed over and fixed on the wall.
Having no place else to set the bowl, he carefully placed it beside her on the bed. As he went to help wipe the blood off her hands with the cloth, the moment it touched her skin she practically threw herself across the room to escape the contact. Gunter did not chase her across the room, instead he gave her space. "Christopher, will you clean your hands if I leave you alone?" He asked this gently, not knowing what her answer would be, or how in control of her mind she was.
Chris looked down at her hands for the first time, and saw the blood now drying on them. Her heart fell into her stomach as her knees felt weak. She looked at Gunter for the first time, and after seeing the look on her face he knew better than to say anything. Suddenly, the bowl of water became the most important thing in the room as Chris dropped to her knees in front of it. Her hands shook as she raised them to the bowls level. Slowly they touched the water before descending completely under.
Her wrists pressed harshly into the lip of the bowl cutting into her skin. Chris's head hung down, looking like a broken man on his knees before God. The water started taking on a faint pinkish color as small bits of the dried blood began to dissolve.
After a minute, Chris stood straighter on her knees, giving herself better leverage to the bowl. She then began furiously scrubbing her hands. The water grew turbulent and red the longer she went on. Gunter, who was frozen watching her, couldn't imagine that there was still blood on her hands after her first scrubbing, but Chris didn't stop. Using her fingernails, she tried to scratch off the phantom blood.
She didn't stop, it was like she was trying to remove the sin from underneath her skin. Gunter called out to her, but she didn't hear him, and kept scrubbing. He called out louder, but she only got faster. He wasn't able to get through to her with words, so he grew more desperate. This time he laid his forearm over the bowl and firmly placed his other hand over her wrists stopping her movements.
Finally getting her attention, he was able to get her to remove her hands from the bowl, and it was just as he thought. They were red and raw, she had broken skin in several places. You could clearly see the line where the lip of the bowl had cut into her wrists. When he looked at her hands he could see the faint scars that filled her hands.
But before he could take a second look, Chris had come to her senses and tugged her hands away. She held them close to her chest, as she sagged back into her hip joint, staring up at him. Releasing the tension, Gunter exhaled loudly and stood up from the bed. He carefully pitched the towel her way before stepping out of the room.
Gunter made it down the stairs to the second landing. His mind filled with worry. Now, not only did he have to look after one stupid child, he was now incharge of the pair of walking disasters. As he came to the main staircase zeven slipped past him in a rush to get somewhere. Gunter kept walking, whatever would happen between the two of them he had no control over. The fate of both kingdoms rested in their hands, he only hoped that their decisions were the right ones.
Chris had no more than slumped onto the bed before a strong hand grabbed her arm, yanking her upright.
She knew exactly who the hand belonged to before she even looked at him. Zeven's face was unreadable. A calm before the storm. Chris figured she couldn't shake his hand and instead squared her shoulders back and glared at him.
His grip tightened, and she had to fight against herself not to flinch as he began to twist her arm. "Leave me alone." "I don't think you're in a position to make demands-" He pulled her arm at an odd angle, causing her nerves to fire off in pain. "If I were you, I'd be grateful that Brennan asked me not to kill you."
At the mention of his name, Chris's anger intensified. While she made no move to escape Zeven's grasp, she pulled no punches with her words. "If I were you, I'd be grateful I didn't kill him."
Zeven's chest grew tight as he fought the urge to slam her against the wall. His voice grew quiet and gruff, "If you were anyone else, I'd have killed you-" he took a deep breath before continuing "-I would like to solve things between our kingdoms amicably, but let me make this perfectly clear. You need me a lot more than I need you. At this point there is very little holding me back from staging an all out war to get what I want. The senseless loss of life is the only reason I have not done so." Chris shifted slightly, like a rabbit in a cage with a tiger.
It was too late to take back her actions, not that she would. Chris relaxed in his grip slightly. Keeping her voice level she began her counter attack. "So are you proposing another truce? We both know how that will end?"
"Do we?"
Chris paused for a moment. His response had thrown her, for a second. He was right though, they had never given the truce a chance. Sure they were moments that they hadn't been at each other's throats, but they could only be called civil.
But Chris was not new to being spurred, and she held fast to the deep distrust that surrounded Zeven. And then her mind turned to Brennan and she felt sick, she had placed her truce in him too only to be betrayed. There was no room in her heart for any more pain.
Zeven felt he tense back in his grip, and watched the flickers of thoughts and feelings trapse past her eyes. Seeing behind the cracks in her mask, he felt his own mask falter. He hadn't asked Brennan to become her friend, that came naturally. He could imagine if their places had been switched, seeing her standing beside Brennan while he was the one left behind. He had also witnessed the way Brennan had tried to protect her. The way he cared for her. Zeven wished that if their roles had been reversed, Brennan would feel the same amount of remorse.
If Brennan was right and what she needed was a friend, then if he could only repair their relationship all would go smoothly, and he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty dealing with her much further. She would stay by his side in name only and Brennan would be there to take care of the rest. "Brennan-"
"Is a lying, two faced, prick. Without so much as a shred of human decency. My only regret is having ever met him." Bringing up Brennan was a mistake. Chris's mask concealed her thoughts again as the passion in her eyes ignited anew. His only chance at renewing the relationship was to tread gingerly.
"I won't allow you to take your anger out on him."
"Oh you won't allow me?"
Wrong move. Again.
"If you want to be frustrated with anyone it should be me-"
"I'm not frustrated, I'm pissed."
It was true, the glint in her eyes showed a dangerous edge. And for a moment, it felt like he was the one inside a cage with a wild animal. Then he thought of Brennan, and the soft look on his face when he spoke of Chris.
It hurt him to see his friend in so much pain and not being able to fix it. It wasn't like a simple broken nose that he could splint and carry on with his life. It was a deep scar that would take time to heal, if it healed at all.
"It's not his fault. I made him do it'
"He was still the one who did it."
"I didn't give him a choice."
A silence filled the room as she paused before responding.