The Nobleman's Angel

Chapter 2

My work room is reeking of paint, dried oil and vintage stuff that forged the true history this room holds. The blood on the walls was whitewashed by my own hands, now it is beautified with murals I hand-drawn for almost a month after the ordeal was over. It was a deep color of violet and red — the colour of the sky that welcomed me to a new beginning.

I was rescued just in time. It has been over a month that he wouldn't allow me to go outside. I was chained to the bed — the sign of submission to his s****l needs. The only issue is that I didn't submit nor liked what he was doing. The gentleness in his touch was gone, as well as his eyes full of love and care. The only emotion living in his eyes was pure lust – the desire to keep me in his possession. I was never someone's possession, even if he was my husband.

Loving someone with a tendency of savagery and lying inside him would always chain you to your own demise. You think you loved restriction, but in fact, the arms of steel train you to be a follower, not a lover.

I was a follower for three years. It was the second year of our marriage when we fell apart into pieces. I was the only one who was more than willing to mold another piece one by one. While he, the only anchor I had, forsaken me in amidst of chaos. It was my fault to begin with. If I hadn't done that thing, then maybe the future would be much more amiable than it turned out to be.

I stared at the blank canvas in front of me. I haven't painted for a week and I got a call from a client, asking me to paint his family's portrait for five thousand dollars. A lot of money, I know, enough to rent a new house. But something inside me tells me that I should stay in this house. I couldn't fight off this feeling even though my therapist advised me to move out and live with him.

I guess I have to take a walk.

The chilly air enveloped my face. I am wearing gloves and trench coat to warm my hands and body. Since November is getting colder than ever, I had to put on layers of clothes under my trench coat to ensure I wouldn't catch frostbites.

I love walking in the darkness of the night. Every night without things that keep me busy is a torture — fragments of past engulf my whole being. I am trying to get all of these thoughts inside off of me, only to be miserable again. I couldn't get him off my system; like my body is designated to function to his liking.

To be honest, I am still his follower. I always wonder how he is doing inside the prison or if he has changed. I could only just wonder though; my therapist told me once it is not wrong to think about the person you loved, the grave mistake is to yearn for reconnection. I would be lying if I say I am not hoping for reconnection because to this moment, I still think of our bittersweet love — such love that always pins me to the wall: toxic love, that is.

As I walk down the Beaufort District, my therapist favorite place to shop stuff from, uninvited wave of reminiscence overshadowed my thoughts about the past.

"I'd like to call you Angel." Lazarus endearing voice suddenly entered my mind. Lazarus is my therapist — the savior I need aside from s*x. It is like hitting two birds in one stone; he is giving me the best f**k of my life while enlightening my head with philosophical ideas and advices.

"Angel?" I remember myself asking. I even remember the finest details — the quietness of the room, the warm weather on that particular April afternoon, and the welcoming smile he bestowed me.

"Find it out yourself, Audere. I do not want to sound like a creep." Lazarus chuckled. The small dimples on his cheeks made his face adorable than handsome.

I clasped my hands together. I did not know what to tell him. I had no idea how to start telling him what my story is all about but he was mindful enough to sense my doubts.

"You better not worry, Angel. I am not a therapist, I am more than that. I can be your confidant, your friend, and even your..." He paused for a while and stared at me.

"What?" I asked timidly when I noticed the manly grin forming on his lips.

"L' amoureux."

That is not my first encounter with Lazarus. I didn't meet him as a therapist, I met him as a taxidermist lost in the woods — a very distinct taxidermist of West Coast. He had captivated my eyes the first time I saw him. Lazarus has hazel-brown eyes, a very masculine and lean body, his eyebrows are bushy and thick — which I am envious of. I am also envious of his sharp and pointed nose — the same nose that smells my core when the night comes. What I love about Lazarus the most is his pale skin as well as his red lips. His lips are full and luscious; I cannot resist nibbling on them every time we make love.

It was before sunset when I met him. I often wander to the town to see stuff I could take reference from for my paintings. I decided to take a farther route to the woods to see the beauty of nature after a long time of captivity. I had been so detached from the world, that even seeing the clear sky was a new feeling to me. Far from the bustling crowds of the town, I walked into the woods with sketchpad and art materials on my hands. I've always loved sketching and painting landscapes and I always go to the woods to find new scenery to draw.

I didn't find scenery though. What I found was more beautiful than any other God-made thing.

After a half an hour of walking, my feet were already aching so I took a seat under the cork tree. I arched my back to the trunk to relax myself a bit as I close my eyes to hear the sound of nature. It has been a long time since I did this, probably even before I got married. When I was young, I was really close to nature because I grew up in an orphanage situated in the mountains, but as I got older and mature, I realized there is more to life than living in seclusion for eighteen years.

I opened my eyes to see the trees in full blossom for it was a fine spring day. The warm air touched my face while the soft wind from the North had blown my hair. As I try to tuck my hair to my ears, my eyes caught something not too far from me that I hadn't taken notice a while ago. There was a Demi-God sleeping under the maple tree just a few feet beside me.

His chestnut hair was blowing with the wind, making his face more defined to my view. I remember my heart throbbing with admiration and enchantment. Something inside me commanded me to take my sketchbook and never let this art unrecorded. And I did.

I began outlining his body inclined to the trunk. His sharp jawline that I really adored was difficult to draw but I managed to sketch it like the perfection it was. No, the whole process was difficult because his face screams perfection — just one wrong detail can mess up the whole art.

Two hours of hard labour, I was not yet done. I haven't sketched the slightest details of his face. I planned on continuing this when I come home but I had no trust in my mind — I often forget certain things; that is why. It was better to stay near the reference to see the details for yourself.

He was still in a deep sleep, I thought, but he already knew what I am doing from the beginning.

"Are you done?" He suddenly opened his eyes. Since the sunlight was against his face, his brown eyes glimmered; like millions of cosmos were painted in those eyes.

My heart dropped a bit. I didn't know what to tell him so I just shook my head lightly and smiled apologetically. His expression was not hostile but it didn't show warmth and friendliness.

"I am sorry for intruding your space." I told him as I avoid his inquiring look. He then stood up and walked towards me. Lazarus is tall, around 6'3, so I was looking up to him since I was sitting. At that moment, my heart was booming so hard I could hear it from my chest.

"Can I see?" He leaned his face near to mine while looking at me intently then he shifted his eyes to the sketchbook. I immediately turned my face away from his and then handed him the sketchbook.

Lazarus sat gently beside me as he eyed my drawing. I was growing uncomfortable by his intimidating aura but I knew he meant no harm. His manly scent wafted through my nostrils. He smelled so good — the same scent that I smell at night up to this day.

"It's not yet done." he concluded. "Do you want to paint me not on this but on the canvas? I would love that."

To me, he was an art but as I knew him well, he is more than an art. The desire to paint him not just on the canvas but also in my heart thrived in me.

I missed so many things, so many opportunities — seeing the outside world, the dream I always wanted to pursue, and the freedom I long to taste. Thinking about the day I met Lazarus is magical. He is the first taste of freedom.

Thinking of him calms me down as always. Lazarus is not my lover yet, but we have a very special connection. Our relationship is more than s****l pleasures. We stand by each other when we had no one. I help him grow on his own while he helps me heal.

As he told me once, in his most expressive eyes, "Only you can make me human."

Only Lazarus can make me human.

The sky by this time is dreary. I held on to my trench coat because it is getting colder. I can feel the cold air making its way against my clothes. Cold nights like this make me miss Lazarus more. He's always keeping me in company while putting his arms around me to make me warm.

Too bad he's a busy man. He works at the local psychiatric ward every morning and by night; he is fulfilling his dream to be a well-known taxidermist. He had achieved his dream but he wanted more. He wants to be known all over the world — the same dream as mine; I want to conquer the world of art with my impeccable skill.

I snaked my way down to the nearest coffee shop. It has a vintage-themed interior with artifacts and antique collection used to adorn the place. Lazarus and I always lounge in there during our free times. I am not used to going there without him but I want to drink their popular latte.

But as soon as I am near the coffee shop, I was greeted by a disastrous scene. The crowd thronged outside Viar Street, where the coffee shop is located. I can hear horrified mutterings and soft cries echoing throughout the place.

Curiosity got my eyes, but before I get to see what happened, two people behind me answered the question inside my head.

"What sort of monster would do that? He literally took the woman's organs out!"

My heart skipped a beat.