The tension

I almost imploded out of tension. My heart twisted and a wave of sadness overcame me. I could almost feel his... pain. And I didn't like it. I only wanted him to be happy. He deserved only happiness. And if I could I would willingly take his pain, his discomfort as my own. What an odd thing to feel.
He strode in again, determined. He looked at me, at my face, as though he needed a reminder to whatever the fury in his eyes led him to think. He clenched his jaw, turned to the side and let out a string of profanities.
This made me impatient, I wanted to put my hand around his jaw, turn his face back to mine... And... and... And what?
He looked back at me suddenly as though he had a clue to my inner turmoil. It was a relief to see his face again and in a gesture that warmed my heart, he leaned forward and placed his forehead against mine. Careful not to hurt me.
My heart jumped.
He looked up at my face at the sound. I looked away from him, down at my hands. He put a hand under my chin and tilted my head up, to look into my wide, bewildered eyes.
He took a sharp intake of breath. "Hey," his voice was tender, calm, gentle without him working on it to sound that way.
I exhaled heavily — not quite a sigh as the sadness reached his eyes again. His sadness left me feeling oddly helpless, I wished there was something I could do to make him feel better.
"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," he whispered, his tone growing more farlorn with each word. "You need anything from the store, Nuru?"
"No," I moaned through the pain.
He gripped his keys and almost darted out of the door.
Angelique gave me a shot for the pain and soon I relaxed against the couch. It was hours before Angelique said her goodbyes, Roman was yet to come back.
"Take some Tylenol for the pain," Angelique suggested as she opened the front door. "I left my card on the table. If you feel more pain or feel dizzy at all, call me."
"I will," I assured her. "And thanks."
I sighed and glowered at the walls. I was too tired, I needed to sleep but I fought through the thick fog of unconsciousness. I wasn't going to chance not seeing Roman again today. Tomorrow seemed too far away. And what if he left again?
"I'm back," Roman shouted the second he walked through the hallway, closing the door behind him.
I noticed the change immediately. He was happier, much more relaxed. And my body relaxed too, at the sound of his voice. I stopped breathing altogether, the concentrated perfume of his skin lingering in the air.
"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead." He walked to the freezer and retrieved a bag of ice, he took off his t-shirt and wrapped the ice with it.
It was becoming harder to form a coherent thought and keeping my gaze firmly on his face became a mission.
"I'm sorry for what they did to you," he told me.
I shrugged. "It was never your fault."
Roman started to say something, then looked down at the ground.
"Maybe you should share what's bothering you, I might help," I suggested half-heartedly. Well, I tried to sound that way. I don't think I fooled him.
"You scared me there for a second," he said after a minute of hesitation. His voice was weak, defeated, as though he was confessing his darkest sins. He paused for a minute. "I thought Bull got to you."
I flinched slightly, and stared at his face. He didn't have to lie. To act like he cared. "As if that wouldn't make you happy."
"You're absurd." he said, glaring at me. He dropped to a squat in front of me.
I gasped at the clean, Roman scented air that filtered the room and then closed my eyes. There was no need to make him angrier. There was no need to fight him tonight. I'd much rather... talk to him. My fascination was growing. I wanted to know everything about him. All the minor details of his life.
"I'd have had to kill him," he said suddenly with a scowl on his face. "If he ever tried to hurt you, I'll kill him."
"You're the crazy one." I practised breathing evenly. "What made you so happy all of the sudden?"
"Hehe," he chuckled dryly. "Wouldn't you love to know."
"I do actually."
"You weren't really suppose to answer that," he said disappointedly. "It was clearly a rhethoical question."
I shivered and he took the ice and dropped it in the sink. Only the shudder had nothing to do with the cold, rather the hand that fell on my lap. He didn't seem to notice what he'd done.
"But I'm sure one of them will not be able to have babies," I whispered, desperately trying to distract myself.
His lips twitched, "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," I said cheerfully, I was almost smug and I loved the... approving look he graced me. "Pulled his balls until he dropped to his knees."
"That's my girl," he ruffled my hair. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
"You do that a lot."
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I won't ever again, okay?"
I shivered in fear when I thought back to Josh and his friends. They'd be waiting for me Monday morning. And now I hated school so much more. It was no longer a boring routine but hell, a painful torment.
"What's on your mind?" He dragged a chair and sat it across me, "You want something to eat?"
I shook my head. As if I could eat with all these butterflies bloating my stomach.
He dropped heavily on the chair and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay then, we'll eat when you're hungry." It was such a normal response but yet it provoked my heart. I drew in deep breaths of air, trying to clear my head.
"What are you thinking, Nuru?" He was anxious.
"I'm thinking about Josh and his friends," I said. I'll have to call your friend, Anton, and borrow a gun."
His eyes narrowed. "You don't know how to use a gun."
I shrugged and spread my hands out in front of me. "My father owned a gun or two. I'm a fast learner. I saw how he fired a shot."
His body was closer to me than before, having shifted unconsciously in the course of our conversation. "Bull?"
"No, that's my..." I couldn't bring myself to say step father. There was a huge step we couldn't take, especially one that could make him my father. "Carmine, my biological father."
He stared at me curiously. "Oh?"
"Yeah," I said. "He passed away a couple of years ago."
He frowned at this information, not from surprise but rather, it seemed he was bewildered that I told him the truth. "May I ask how he died?"