A Daughter's Love

Chapter Seven.

I woke up early the next morning with the sun’s rays peeling in through the attic window that overlooked the sea. I sat back on the mattress, staring out onto the horizon where the orange sun was beginning to rise. I never really liked the sea, especially after my parent’s deaths but even before that it always managed to scare me, it’s unknown, its powerful force was threatening to me yet so, so beautiful. I reached out with trembling fingertips, running them along the glass of the closed window as if to trace the crashing waves. My mother always loved the sea, having birthed us on the beach and often times going for long walks at night just to be close to the water. She could sit and stare at it for hours, deep in thought and sometimes singing songs of sorrow or sadness that would catch my father’s attention, drowning him in the agony that was her voice, her pain as if he wished to take it for himself and spare her from its clutches. I never really understood why she loved the sea as much as she did and even though my father loved it to an extent, he could go months without looking at it or bothering to stop and stare. I pushed the thoughts away and got up from the bed, heading toward the chair in the corner where my work clothes always lay prepared for the next day. I stripped out of my red night gown and slipped the yellow sundress which was decorated in various flower patters onto my form, fiddling with my feet to get the tan shoes to fit comfortably on my feet. The shoes had a small platform heel which made them easier to move in. I bit down on the yellow ribbon as I gathered my hair on the back of my head then used it to tie the brownish blond strands back, tying stray hairs back behind my ears when I reached for my brown messenger bag, shrugging it onto my shoulder before I left the room, clean and bed made. My sunflower earrings matched the color of my dress along with the yellow beaded necklace I had received as a gift from Amelie a few years prior. I passed the mirror in the hallway and paused to glance over myself. I looked like a completely innocent young woman, pretty and youthful, bright and proper but the image the mirror had caught the night before had been a completely different. I wore the leather, had blood splattered across my features and had that wild, untamed look in my eyes. Brushing it off, I continued down the stairs, gold eye matching my attire while the blue delphiniums on my dress made my sapphire eye appear more vibrant “Good morning” I greeted when I stepped into the kitchen, catching the attentions of both Ryker and his mother. Rebecca was stood at the stove, preparing breakfast while her son glanced over the paper on the table that spoke of more bodies having been found, each slaughtered so brutally that it stunned the people of Vannes. I leaned across the table, my smile fading slightly when I realized that they were all my kills. Unworthy kills. I grimaced which Ryker noticed then stood upright, hands neatly tucked away behind me “Morning, dear. You seem awfully cheery” Rebecca greeted, turning to glance at me with her spatula in hand, apron tied around her neck and waist. I set my bag down on the ground and slipped into the chair beside Ryker. I was happy because I managed to kill someone the night before but I couldn’t exactly tell her that “Does it maybe have something to do with Amelie’s boy?” she surprised me by asking. Ryker stiffened beside me but I ignored the action, forcing a smile onto my lips that hid the annoyance I felt at the mention of him “Bastian, was it? He dropped by yesterday while you were at work. Said he wanted to ask you something about his mother’s poppies” she was muttering, her back once again turned toward me while she worked on frying the chicken sausages. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, slumping my shoulders and uncrossing my legs since sitting like a proper lady was always so uncomfortable. Ryker watched me, knowing all too well that I hated flowers despite working at a flower shop and always helping people with tending to their gardens. I could give them advice, knew each plant by name, even grow them myself but I despised them, all of them except for a red rose “No, no. It has nothing to do with that” I said in the sweetest tone I could muster which caught her attention. My back shot up straight and my elbows landed on the table, hand waving as if to brush it off as being nothing, a shy and innocent act that would make her wonder “Mister Marseille read somewhere that white flowers can change color if you leave them in colored water so he decided to test that theory-.” it was true, my boss had told me of the article he had read that had peaked his interests. It had been a few days ago when he decided to try it and placed some white roses into a vase filled with water that was colored blue with food coloring “And today he’s going to allow me to see them” he kept them in his office room at the back of the store along with most of his favored blooms, a room which I was not allowed to go into and though some part of me was curious as to whether the colored water had worked, I still found the idea of flowers to be somewhat boring “How exciting!” she exclaimed, scooping the sausages and bacon strips onto a plate. My stomach growled at the thought of the food, the taste already so clear in my mouth “I do hope it works” she muttered, placing the plate on the table in front of us. I let Ryker go first, serving himself before he served me, scooping some of the eggs and bacon onto my plate without having to ask “I hope it doesn’t” Ryker surprised both of us by saying while he worked, reaching for the toast to butter two slices, placing one on my plate. He always took care of me in that way, always placing my work clothes on that same chair every night after having rinsed them out, letting them dry by the fire. Rebecca’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as she stared at her son. She wanted to ask him why but he beat her to it “You shouldn’t force things to be something they’re not” I felt my hands clenching beneath the table out of Rebecca’s line of sight, eyes losing some of their faked sparks when I realized that he was talking directly to me. He wanted me to stop smiling so much that it hurt, wanted me to stop pretending to be the perfect preacher’s daughter and accept who I was regardless of everyone else accepted me or not. Rebecca reached for the newspaper, rolled it up in her hands when she saw the sadness in my eyes then smacked Ryker upside the head with it “Ma!” he exclaimed, more shocked than hurt when he reached up to scratch at the back of his head. Rebecca placed a firm hand on her hip and scowled at him like a scolding mother would look at her rebellious son “It’s a flower, Ryker, not a person” she informed then sighed, tossing the newspaper down on the table to start pouring some orange juice into out glasses. When she turned away to start untying her apron, I couldn’t help but grin, glancing at Ryker with laughing eyes that met with his glaring ones. I enjoyed watching her scold him like a child then teasing him about it for the next few weeks. We finished eating then left the house to head to out separate work places. Once outside, I let out a long sigh and cracked my fingers which caused Ryker to flinch from beside me. We walked along the narrow, paves pathways that lead to the main road of Vannes “I hate flowers” I complained, wrapping my hands together behind my head as I walked, face tilted upward to savor the feel of the morning sun against my skin, eyes gently closed. The only reason I worked with them was because we needed the money, it was because I wanted to repay both Rebecca and Nolan for raising my brother and I after our parents died “You’re probably the only woman in France that feels that way” he taunted, sparing a glance in my direction. In my eighteen years of life, Ryker had been the only one to ever see the real me, the one past the pretty smiles and the flowery things to the monster that hid beneath, desperate and waiting to be set free. And even after he had witnessed it first hand, had cowered away in fear and came back to comfort me, he never left, never judged nor saw me any differently. To him, I was just a fragile bird being torn apart by some worms from the inside out and killing was my way of coping “You’re lucky this isn’t Paris” his voice drew me out of my thoughts, forcing my eyes open to stare up at the clear blue sky and beautifully structured buildings as we passed. He was playing a dangerous game by trying to tease me, poking at the lion’s cage with only a stick to protect him if things went South “I hate-.” before I could even finish, Ryker did it for me, speaking in a very high pitched tone as if to try and mimic mine “I hate Paris, urg!” and he has to be so damn dramatic when he does it. I thought as I tried to clear my mind of the images from the night before that kept replaying themselves in the back of my mind. The disappointment at him not fighting back, the anger for wanting to get beat down, to have my blood staining his blade but not getting what I wanted. Maybe my desire to meet someone capable of actually hurting me, of almost killing me was because I felt like I needed to be punished for something? Perhaps I regretted ever being born and that was how I coped? “You hate everything, the sea, flowers, Paris, hearts, anything to do with happiness or love” Ryker was ranting but I chose to overlook it. Stopping dead in my tracks as I continued to gaze upward. He wasn’t lying, I did hate love and bubbly people. They always annoyed me to no end with their warm greetings and cheerful faces “I don’t hate the night or the stars” I argued. Ryker turned to look back at me from a few paces ahead, studying me with so much hurt and pain in his eyes, so much sorrow and sympathy that I luckily didn’t notice “That’s because most of your ‘killing’ takes place at night” I found myself humming in response, ears adjusting to the world around us to make sure that there was no one to overhear out conversation that early in the morning. My lips parted when I began to mutter more to myself than to him “I it does” Ryker shook his head and continued walking on, leaving me behind. He knew that I was too caught up in my own mind to fully pay attention to what he was saying to me and left it at that. Eventually, I caught up to him, falling in stride beside his form as the flower shop on the corner neared “I’ll stop by later for lunch” he informed like he did every morning. He would bring me lunch every single day and we would eat it together on the roof of the flower shop, just staring at the world and people as they rushed by before us. I nodded and reached for the door, unlocking it with the spare key when he began to walk away “Ryker” I said, loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough to be a shout. He paused to glance back at me as the bell to the shop chimed when I pushed it open “Pour ce que ça vaut. Je ne te déteste pas” a small smile lit up his face, red hair dancing like fire in the sunlight, haloed by a thin line of gold where the hair grew thinner toward the ends. He began to turn away and raised his hand in a wave gesture “See you at noon!” his voice called as people began filling into the streets, making their daily rounds. I scoffed and stepped into the shop, setting my bag down behind the counter and reaching for my apron, tying it around my waist. It was essential when working with soil to keep my uniform from getting too dirty. I wanted to slap myself for having said that to him and groaned loudly into the palms of my hands ‘For what it’s worth. I don’t hate you’ who says something like that? Maybe I just needed to keep killing and one day I’d run into someone who could manage to kill me and rid me of my suffocating embarrassment?   

“Beautiful, simply magnifique” mister Marseille marvelled, eyes gazing adoringly upon the crystalline vase in which the blue roses were arranged with some white lilies and lavender. The arrangement was eye catching, the colors complimenting each other perfectly and was sure to catch the attentions of passer byes. The roses were various different shades of blue, ranging from navy to royal blue and even a much lighter baby blue but it made them all the more unique and to people there was something so captivating about the oddities. I found myself wondering what my father would have said if he knew that a blue rose really could exist. I thought back to a time long before that one, to when he was still alive and I was just a little girl, sitting in his lap by the kitchen table while a fire burnt in the oven, radiating warmth in the middle of a harsh winter. He would tell me of great jewels, yellow, red and green. He spoke of how he met my mother, how she had always been more beautiful to him than the sea or stars and he told me stories of how he had once met a Noble couple, how he had convinced the man that blue roses really did exist, making a complete fool of him. My father told me tall tales of mermaid’s, sirens, giant sea turtles and gods. He had quite the imagination for an old man “Wouldn’t you agree, chérie?” mister Marseille always mixed his languages when speaking to me. It was because he wasn’t very good at speaking English and his brain struggled to come up with the words in English quick enough before they escaped. His accent was the thickest I had ever heard, despite my own lighter accent which Ryker and Malik shared “I’m sure they’ll tempt many clients” I agreed, reaching out to caress one of the roses, running my fingertips along the smooth petals, expecting the color to rub off on my hands like dust but instead they remained a part of the delicate flower “But just to be sure-.” Mister Marseille plucked one of the long stem roses from the vase and pressed the flower to his pointed nose, breathing in deep to savor its scent. His infatuation with flowers of all kinds made me wonder what he saw in them other than just being pretty plant “Je porterai ceci à la presse” he announced, turning to leave with the rose in tow. He grabbed for his jacket then headed for the door to the shop, placing his hat on the top of his head when he turned to glance back at me “Be back bientôt” he called then disappeared out the door, causing the bell to chime as he fled, heading for the local press so that they may be persuaded to publish an article on the blue rose he had managed to create as a way to persuade even more people to visit his shop. I shook my head and let my forced smile drop with a sigh, eyes finding the blue blossoms that sat neatly arranged in front of me. For a brief moment I contemplated shattering it, letting the vase crash to the floor only to stomp on the flowers but I pushed the thought away, turning to head for the back room where I would continue arranging various bouquets for people to buy as gifts of sympathy, mourning, gratitude or adoration but the door chimed again, signalling that there was a customer, most likely drawn in by the new display. I shut my eyes, suppressing the need to sigh in annoyance when I turned and gave a brilliant smile “Welcome to La Fleur Parfaite. Comment puis-je être utile?” I greeted like I always did, offering to help them but this time my breath caught in the back of my throat at the sight of the man. He wore ragged clothing and was filthy, hands and nails covered in dirt while his face was decorated in a few black markings, all foreign. On top of his torn and tattered clothing he wore a lavishing coat and hat that concealed his bald head along with a pair of shoes. These items had most likely been stolen to help conceal his identity “I be looking for a street rat, don’t know if ye maybe seen her around here before?” he said, speaking as pirates would in English without proper grammar. I stayed perfectly still, eyes studying him, hands twitching to reach for the daggers that I always carried me out of habit but they weren’t there. I never really needed them during the day since no one had ever seen my face and lived to speak of it “Ye see, she took something of Captain Curtis Fletcher and he be wanting it back” the money. I had left it in my room at the bakery along with my clothing and any form of weaponry. I gritted my teeth, wanting to kick myself for having thought last night to be as easy as it had. Was there someone watching? Did one of them managed to see me? That pirate was dead when I left him. There was no way he had lived to tell them so how? How could they have found me? “I really don’t want to mess up that pretty face of yers so I suggest ye come quietly” he threatened, shrugging the coat off his shoulders, letting it thud to the ground before he tossed the hat aside in annoyance. Captain Curtis was clever, that was for sure since he’d tracked me to the shop and placed one of his men outside to wait for the precise moment to strike which just so happened to be the moment mister Marseille walked out the door “How did you find me?” I questioned, gaze narrowing onto him. He was dominant on his left side, smelt like alcohol which meant that he was slightly off balance and had at least three weapons on him. A knife in his front pocket, a larger dagger that he carried around in his sleeve and a sword that hung from his waist “The Captain’s first mate could write, not very good but it be enough for him to scribble something down in his own blood for us to find” my hands balled at my sides, wanting to kick myself for not making completely sure that he was dead before leaving his corpse there to rot. How stupid could I be? The pirate began to chuckle, raising his left hand to point at his right eye, the eye that symbolized my golden one “But don’t ye worry, we managed to clean it up before the town could catch wind of the murder” he added when I began backing away, not a common thing for me to do since I preferred charging headfirst into a fight but of course that was while I was armed. His feet thudded across the floor along with my movements until I stopped near the front desk, aware that mister Marseille kept a knife there just in case “It just ain’t as satisfying to let the law deal with ye as it be to beat ye senseless, hun” my eyes moved to the shop that was neatly arranged with flowers and always clean. Mister Marseille always took care of his shop. It was his pride and joy and it most certainly would be a shame to destroy it “Like I told your friend, you can try” with that I reached for one of the nearby vases and threw it across the room, letting the glass shatter into the man’s chest before I lunged for the knife, gripping it firmly in my hand when he cursed and allowed his dagger to slip down his sleeve, into his left hand “Yer gonna have to do better than that to get yeself out of this one, girly” my eye darted to the clock that hung on the wall to see what the time was. The last thing I wanted was for Ryker to come stumbling into the shop while I destroyed both it and the man. The pirate shot forward, aiming his dagger at my head but I managed to dodge, flinging myself over and across the desk, landing a kick to his jaw as I went, landing in a low crouch. He kicked the counter, letting it start to tumble and I dodged, flipping and spinning until I gracefully landed on the soles of my feet by the door, papers and the register sliding across the floor and scattering about. Blood steadily dripped down from his lip where I landed a kick but he ignored it “No wonder Kenzo got his ass handed to him” he laughed, raising his dagger and pointing it at me like he would an index finger. I felt the adrenaline start to course through my veins as I stood patiently watching him, able to turn tail and run but that just wasn’t me. Malia May Campbell never ran from a fight “Ye’re one tough cookie” he grinned, spitting blood from his mouth. I looked to his hand, his pocket then his belt where the sword weighed him down on his right side “It be such a shame I have to kill ye” as if. I thought, teeth gritting when I lunged forward. He retaliated by raising his left hand to take a jab at me but I was too fast, gripping his wrist with my left hand and swinging upward with my right elbow, snapping his left forearm clean in half. The snap filled the room along with his cries of agony that caused blood to splatter across my face, neck and yellow flower dress. I looked so innocent dressed in that uniform with sunflower earrings and my hair neatly done but I was far from just a little girl and I wanted to prove it to the world, to stand on a grand stage and proclaim that I was a true monster “You b***h!” he snapped as I fished his knife out of his pocket while the dagger he held cluttered to the floor, foot moving to kick it far out of his reach. I raised my leg and connected my foot with his stomach, watching him double over when I distanced myself from him once more. He gasped, gripping at his torso with his right hand since his dominant one had been disposed of “You can’t kill me” I stated, calm and collected with a knife in each hand, one heavier than the other but they were as close to the familiarity of my daggers as I was going to get. He stumbled then started laughing when he raised himself upright, face lighting up with sick pleasure, the pleasure I would get during a worthy fight, I imagined “I was never supposed to kill ye-.” his words had my shoulders tensing, my hands tightening their grip on the handles of the knives. Something was wrong, something was horribly wrong. The pirate slumped back against the far wall and wheezed with a grin clawing at his bloody lips “Just distract ye long enough for them to get here” the bell to the shop chimed and I turned but not fast enough to be able to dodge. The hilt of a sword connected with the side of my head, knocking me to the ground, the knifes skidding across the floor from the fall. I tried getting up, able to see two pairs of feet moving around me while the wounded pirate chuckled menacingly. I reached for one of the knives only to have the hilt driven into the back of my head, letting me fall unconscious, vision turning back and body going limp there on the tiled floor, staring out onto the endless stretch of darkness. Ryker would be arriving within the next fifteen minutes and I remembered praying that they would take me away from there so that he wouldn’t get himself caught up in the middle of it all.