HARRY’S POV

"She has recovered enough to be discharged but you still need to keep a close eye on her. People who are suicidal often try to do it again. In Inayat's case she doesn't want to kill herself but like she has admitted, she uses blood as an escape."

I tap my finger against the armrest, counting each second so I have something to do. If I don't put my brain onto this idle task, I'll start breaking things.

The last couple days have been absolute torture. Not being able to find that scum and crush his skull with my bare hands is a pleasure the universe has denied me.

When I was Hadrian, I knew everything that would happen in the future to me and the people around me. I was a fate myself, I had the power to change things I didn't like. It had a cost of course but I gave Icarus the life he wanted.

I hate that I can't do that for myself now. If I could, I would take all that pain and agony out of my wife's life. Nobody deserves what she went through. Just listening to her talk about it ripped my heart apart. I cannot imagine how she lived through it.

But she did and it broke her.

Inayat agreed to meet a psychiatrist, the same woman who is sitting in front of me after having talked to my wife. She is going home today because her cut is healing well now.

Ananya and Faisal wanted to visit but Aayat said she doesn't want to talk about any of this and she would appreciate time on her own. I know shortcake felt horrible about not being able to see Aayat but she didn't say anything.

Aayat says she is better now, that her wound doesn't hurt anymore but I know the one on her soul still aches. Her psychiatrist worries that she would rely on blood as a source of peace. People that cut themselves don't do it as a hobby.

The pain they feel otherwise is so much that cutting themself offers a little relief. And what my wife went through would've hurt a hell of a lot more.

What both Aayat's psychiatrist and I are worried about is that she would cut herself again and this time it would be fatal. I need to monitor her every move without making her feel like a prisoner. "I'll take care of her. Thank you." I get up from my chair and step out of the psychiatrist's office.

Aayat stands up from her chair in the waiting room once she sees me. "Ready?" I ask. She nods, trying to seem as 'normal' as she can. She is putting so much effort into looking like she isn't hurting.

I wish I could tell her that showing hurt doesn't make her weak. But she knows this already. She isn't expressing her pain because it awakens a rage inside of her. A rage that burns her alive and won't be extinguished until she actually sees that Akeeb getting what he deserves.

I hold her hand and walk beside her until we reach our car. I hold her hand throughout the drive, giving it a squeeze each time I feel her slipping away. She told me she feels stuck in a cage because her tormentor is out there probably ruining other women's- no, other children's lives.

That motherfucker will die at my hands and I'll enjoy it more than I've enjoyed killing anyone else. I'll break the cage that holds my wife hostage. I just have to find the cunt.

~~~~~~

"Did you hear anything about that fucker?" I ask Faisal while walking down the stairs. I've been stuck to Aayat like glue for the last three days since she has been back.

I'm right outside the door whenever she is in the bathroom, knocking and asking her random things just so I know that she is fine. I sleep with her in my arms and I hold her tight enough that I know when moves even a little. I'm pretty sure she finds it overbearing but she doesn't tell me off.

"Dad has a still looking. You didn't give us enough information to just snap our fingers and find him. Though I heard him talking to a private investigator in Canada. Sounded like they're getting close."

"I hope so. For the sake of my sanity and my wife's life." Faisal stays quiet for a couple seconds while I walk around the house, looking for Aayat. I've somehow lost her in this giant mansion. Maybe we need a smaller house.

"I never imagined you to be a 'my wife' person." He says. "What is that even supposed to mean?" I ask incredulously. "I don't know." He responds.

There is shuffling on his end before his son's voice filters through. "How's Inayat?" I hate this kid. "None of your business." I say. He huffs and gives the phone back to his dad.

"I hate that son of yours." I tell Faisal. He scoffs. "Then you're just weird. He is the one people love the most." I can't understand why.

"Don't shove your favouritism in my face." He scoffs again. "He is not my favourite. My daughter is." Apparently he catches himself. "I mean I love all my children."

"Sure." I say and hang up when I finally find my wife in the kitchen. She was seemingly chopping some vegetables but what I see is her staring at the knife in a trance. She brings it up so it's in her eye level and twirls it around.

Her fascination with the object is terrifying. She points the tip of the blade towards her face, maintaining distance but it seems like a fragile illusion to my eyes. Her wrist is still in a bandage and here she is, looking to spill more blood.

I walk slowly. Keeping my steps small and quiet. She doesn't catch on and simply keeps staring at the knife. I stop right behind her and whisper her name. She hums. Still looking at the knife but now listening to me too.

"I always wondered if I'll get punished for my crimes here or in the afterlife." She doesn't look away from the knife but she looks interested in what I'm saying. "Have you come to a conclusion yet?" She asks.

"Not really." I say as I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. "What do you think?"

"I think it's better to get what you deserve here. It looks a lot more like justice." I hum, inching my hands up, tracing her arm slowly so to not spook her. I'm trying to get hold of that knife.

"Will you give me justice?" I ask. What would it be, for killing so many people? I've actually lost count of how many bodies I've disposed. Of how many rapists fucking existed and still do.

"You killed people nobody misses. I would say your crimes are forgivable." She keeps staring at that knife with such daunting eyes. She needs blood and she will get it no matter what she has to do. She asked me if that makes her a sociopath.

But my wife is the way she is because she feels everything. She isn't a sociopath, she is just hurt. "What crimes are you punishing yourself for my love?" She gives me a broken smile. "For loving the wrong man?"

She was twelve. There is a high chance that she didn't even know what love was. She saw a pretty boy and called her infatuation love. It isn't her fault that the pretty boy is a pedophile.

My finger touches the handle of the knife. I nearly sigh knowing I'm close to pulling it out of her hold. But my wife catches on. "No." She says before pulling the knife away. Only I grab onto it to try and snatch it. Doesn't work. The blade cuts through my skin and remains in her hold.

I stare at the blood that drips down my palm just as she does. The first time my wife saw my blood, it scared her. I fell into a coma from the head injury and she blamed herself for it. This time, she seems to be too far gone.

"I'll get the first aid." She says and turns around to walk into our room. The knife is still in her hand and so I follow her. My mind whirling. She likes blood, so do I. All I want is for her to not hurt herself.

Ages ago I used to study human anatomy, only to never get a degree but whatever. I've also killed enough people to know which blows are fatal.

Light returns to my eyes like a whole carnival being lit. I lock the door behind me and watch Aayat turn with a gauge in one hand and the knife in another. "Sit. I'll clean the cut-"

"Take off your clothes." I say instead. Both my wife and her psychiatrist told me to not treat her like a glass doll who is too traumatised. Aayat even said that she wants to grow out of her fear of intimacy and the shame it brings afterwards so she can feel normal and have an actual family with me.

She blinks. "What?"

I walk closer. "Do you trust me?" She takes a second before nodding. "Then take your clothes off." I push my non injured hand into her hair. "I'll teach you what love truly is Aayat. Not what that cunt pushed upon you. Love is what you choose. And you can choose to tell me to fuck off.

I'm not scared of blood or your need for it. All I'm scared of is losing you." I lean down so our noses touch while my eyes bore into hers. "I'll teach you where to cut so it doesn't bleed one dry."

"You'll let me cut myself?" Her eyes brighten. I smile.

"No, I'll let you cut me. And then we will fuck."

~~~~~~

AAYAT’S POV

Promises, promises.

Men often make those. One such man that I met ruined my life. He promised me love and then took the child from inside me. The one here is my husband. He has given me no reason to doubt him. If anything he has made me believe in love and in trust.

I do trust him. But my heart can't seem to catch up to my plans of somehow hurting him. We all bleed the same but not Harry. His blood kills me.

Harry unbuttons his shirt, dropping the garment on the floor. His pants pool at his feet soon enough and I have the view of the glorious body that he wants me to scar. I won't be the first one though. Someone got to him before me. He has a few faded scars. I'm sure the people he killed tried to defend themselves.

He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me to straddle his hips. "Of all the people you tried to kill, did anyone get away?" I trace the tip of the knife over his collarbone.

"They tried. But no. They didn't survive me." He says, shuddering when the cold metal touches his skin. I've seen him bleed before and it tore my heart apart. I don't want to make him bleed. I can't. My hunger for blood doesn't come near the fear of hurting him.

So I simply trace the blunt side of the blade against his skin. He waits for me to slice but I'd rather bathe in acid than make him bleed for my sick brain.

He wants me to not hurt myself so terribly that he is willing to take the burnt of it. "I'm sure no one can survive you, Harry." I say just before kissing him. He doesn't waste a second. Wrapping his arms around me and pressing me into his chest, he kisses me like never before.

It's wild, passionate. Nothing like the gentle kisses he has given me before. He hisses when I lose control of the knife and it slices his skin a little. "I'm so sorry!" I say after pulling away.

"Doesn't matter." He mutters before pushing the cardigan off my shoulders. My jeans are nearly torn off of me while he kisses every inch of my body he can get his mouth on. The knife slips away from my hold and falls onto the mattress, forgotten.

I thrust my hands in his hair and lean down to kiss him. Our lips mould together in fierce competition as if winning this would bring a reward. He is my reward in itself. I moan into his mouth and cry in need when he flips us over so I'm on the bed under him.

Before panic could pull me down into the depths of old memories, Harry shoves the knife back into my hand and presses it against his throat. "If you feel like the past is coming to catch you, remember you have the power this time. You can slit my throat if I do anything you don't want and I'll die happy."

It's a safety net and I appreciate it more than I can express. He pulls my panties down my legs and throws it away. "May I?" He asks, holding my thighs apart. I take a big breath and nod. He smiles at me reassuringly before kissing the inside of my thighs. He pushes two fingers inside of me and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

Harry taught me that when consent is actually involved, sex is amazing. It's like he knows what I need and he does just that. Like how his tongue teases my clit while his digits pound into my pussy.

I keep my hold tight on the knife but only because it gives me something to hold onto. "You're the best thing that has ever happened to me." I whisper just as he brings me to an orgasm. Tears cling to my eyes and for once they don't signify pain but actual pleasure.

I moan as euphoria washes over me in waves and Harry pulls his mouth away and his fingers are soon enough replaced by his cock. He thrusts in slowly, his eyes catching mine and then he gives me the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.

He cups my face and hovers over me, his nose almost touching mine. "If you ever decide to kill yourself again and leave me, I'll burn a city down before killing myself and following you into the afterlife. And I'll make sure that Akeeb was in that city."

He thrusts in completely and I choke on a gasp. The cut on his chest has stopped bleeding but the sight of it only makes me clench around him harder. He curses in my ear.

"You're my fucking world, Aayat. Everyone is dead to me if you don't stand beside me so never think of hurting yourself again." He grits through his teeth before sitting up, throwing one of my legs over his shoulder and picking up the pace of his thrusts.

I throw away the knife and dig my nails into his forearms as they hold my hips down. My breasts bounce with each thrust and his gaze fixates on it until his phone rings. I assume he would ignore it but he surprises me by picking it up and putting it on speaker while still thrusting into me.

I press a hand to my mouth to avoid making any sound. "What?!" He asks. "Who pissed in your English tea." Faisal asks. "Get to the point." My husband says impatiently. I'm so close to coming and from the look on Harry's face, so is he.

"Found the fucker. If you intend to murder him, I can have dad send some people and pretend like we don't know you." My eyes widen in realisation and Harry's glint with a terrifying joy.

They found Akeeb. And Harry would enjoy killing him. "I like doing things alone. Tell me where he is and tell him where Aayat is. I'm sure he will come running and then I'll have my fun."

Harry doesn't even bother to hang up, he just throws his phone across the wall so it crashes and breaks, and then hovers over me again to kiss me with a new vigour.

I return it back. I'll have my freedom soon. Knowing he is dead will free me of any chain my past still ties me with. I would be able to live. To love, to be happy. I can have a family with Harry without worrying that my past would come to haunt me.

I wrap my arms around Harry's shoulders, digging my nails into his skin while he holds me in his strong arms and kisses me back while thrusting into me. The coil of pleasure burns in my lower belly and soon enough, fireworks burst into my vision.

I come the hardest I ever have and just as I start to get my bearings back, Harry starts to pull out, too close to his own release.

I wrap my legs around his waist and keep him in place. "Come inside." I gasp. "Please."

"Baby-" he starts but I nip at his throat and he groans as he comes inside of me. We both pant in the aftermath until he kisses my cheek. "Do you want lunch?"

"I didn't make anything." I say. I was trying to but he is a great distraction and I'm a weak hearted woman. "We can always order in." He says before turning around and kissing me again.

~~~~~~