And paradoxically, I understand Xerxes. I never thought I would condone rape. I've experienced firsthand how much that can hurt. But he's right. I live. Got the chance to decide for myself. At least in a certain way. His sister was deprived of this opportunity. Through your own father. "I'm really sorry," I whisper, looking at Xerxes the whole time. I want him to see the truth in the words. Because I'm sorry. I'm sorry his sister never died I'm sorry that Xerxes has to carry this burden and, more importantly, I'm sorry that so many people have suffered torment because of one man. Did his father know what a deep mark he would leave behind? Did it would have interested him at all? Xerxes shakes his head slightly, his hand still hovering over my skin. Slips along my waist, to my hips and back. "That's life, isn't it?" Another wistful smile forms on his lips and he sighs softly. "The weak die and those who deserve an early death may live." That's true too. The law of nature. Only those who can defy the roughness of our time have a chance to stay on this earth. But that doesn't mean I have to accept it. Let alone approve. But I don't want to talk to Xerxes about that right now. There are still too many unanswered questions for that. "So you started when you were twelve..." I stop, trying to find the right words. In fact, not even because Xerxes intimidates me or I'm afraid to acquit, but because I'm having a hard time imagining Xerxes, who was twelve. Me always thought that the childhood of the upper class is carefree. And now? Now the image of a small, laughing boy is replaced by one that has shown his cruelty from an early age. A child covered in blood and with a knife in his hand. This image just makes me stop. But apparently Xerxes knows what I'm getting at. He shakes his head again and looks at me almost dreamily. "No, I fought it." We're still too close to talk like that. It's hard for me to look into his eyes. But I don't want to distance myself from Xerxes either. So I do as he does, see on my fingers, watching them brush light as a feather over his shoulders, how the fabric of his shirt conforms to my touch and creases. "Why did you fight?" Again, this question comes far too easily to my lips. But it interests me. Finally, he just said that his sister was the only reason for his rebellion against the inner anger. "Because I didn't want my father to win." That sounds logical. Another thing I hadn't considered. So I just nod and squint at Xerxes' face for a moment. He looks thoughtful his forehead is also wrinkled slightly. But at least Xerxes doesn't seem to be drifting anymore. This fact reassures me. It means that he no longer has any problems with recalling his memories. "I lasted a year and was able to hold myself back," he murmurs, now stroking me with his entire hand. It takes a little more strength, but it's still tender. As if it would have a calming effect on him, on me to touch. "At least in reality. In my dreams I raged." He snorts a laugh and shakes his head. It's almost interesting to watch how Xerxes loosens up a little with every second. His entire posture changes. He looks proud yet gentle. Strength and softness united. "Before what happened to my sister, my dad was the main attraction in every one of my dreams. But that's changed," he murmurs, and this time our eyes meet when I look into his face again. The green immediately grabs me. The sadness is still predominant in it, but something else shines in the eyes. Just withdraws me what exactly Acceptance maybe? “Suddenly my father no longer raped women, he no longer tortured them. In my dreams, I've done all that." At the latest, I should withdraw a little. Should gain a safety distance from Xerxes. But I don't want to. He's opening up to me. As paradoxical as it is, I know more about Xerxes from this conversation than about Zaret. So how should I turn him down when Xerxes includes me in his life? When he answers my questions and makes me feel that I am important enough to know this information about him? "And then came the anniversary of my sister's death. My mother was dead. My father celebrated my birthday." Xerxes grimaces in disgust and I can understand with every fiber of his being that he resents the idea. Celebrating the day a family member dies is a completely different thing Kind of indifference It seems a miracle that Xerxes didn't kill his father by then at the latest. "But I didn't attend the ceremony, I withdrew. I mourned and had no one to listen to me." In fact, I can't imagine that Xerxes was once so alone. That no one stood by him. It contradicts the image he is portraying now. But maybe that's why he's holding onto Platura like that And maybe that's why I'm still alive, that he's just looking for more souls who will accept him for who he is. "I heard children laughing. I think it came from outside. But the joyful noise turned into screaming in my head." I know that too. When your brain plays tricks on you and pretends things that don't exist. After all, I've seen my mother's face in front of me quite often over the past few days . "I covered my ears, didn't want to hear it anymore, but it didn't work." He frowns again, seems to want to recapitulate little things. But instead of thinking for a long time, Xerxes just shrugs his shoulders it happened that I lost control. I don't remember exactly what happened. The first thing I remembered was the unconscious woman in front of me." And now that makes me stop. I would have expected Xerxe's father to have done something again. That he has to fight against the veil of the past again and that's why he just faltered. "What do you mean, the first thing you remember?" Xerxes looks at me and cocks his head slightly. And paradoxically, he seems to be considering telling me everything. So I move even closer to him "Xerxes, please," I whisper, grimacing in desperation. But this information is important to me. I can't say where I get this knowledge from, only that what I've just experienced also affects me. "Kalota, I have gaps in my memory. Ever since that day. And every time that happens to me, I do bad things." And now he looks at the cuts on my thigh. The sign he wanted to give me. "Even when I was in the dungeons with you, I had them. But me I've never really drifted off," whispers Xerxes, frowning. I do the same to him and now follow his gaze. The wound is slightly red, but poisoning does not appear to be the cause. I probably didn't give the injury enough rest. "What do you mean?" You can clearly hear the tension. I don't care. Is that the reason Xerxes changed with me? That he managed to keep control of me? It could be. But mostly I understand now why it always seemed like Xerxes was acting according to a plan His whole behavior makes sense all of a sudden Of course Xerxes was always in control when he feared losing himself and having no control over his actions. Xerxes smiles at me, and no matter how warm it is, I suddenly feel incredibly cold. After all, that could mean he keeps hurting me. That he wants to see how far he can go with me before he loses control again. That I'm his little experiment. "That, Kalota, could mean that you're the one who could finally kill the beast my father created," he whispers, leaning even further, sliding his hand from my waist to my cheek, pinning my face . "And that makes you my personal sweetheart," whispers Xerxes, gently placing his lips on mine. And me? I can hardly breathe. Forget everything. My heart is beating hard against my ribs and I wouldn't be surprised if they just break. Nevertheless, I adapt to his movements. Press my mouth a little harder against his and feel Xerxes with my tongue. Taste him. It is paradoxical, but with this kiss Xerxes nips my racing thoughts in the bud. The whirlwind in me slows down Loses power until it finally disappears entirely. But this isn't a kiss of greed. No one who carries pure passion. Rather, it seems much more intimate. As if we were about to establish a connection. And maybe that's the case? But I can't deal with that any further, because the door opens. A soft creaking can be heard and with a grunt Xerxes leaves me. But he keeps stroking my cheek with his thumb. Xerxes glances at the newcomer very briefly before turning his gaze back to me. "Platura, you're disturbing me." Xerxes smiles at me and leans forward again. He wants to join our lips again, but before we kiss, Platura says: "We've got him." And that information seems important enough to stop Xerxes. His mouth hovers over mine and I would love to remove the little distance. But something about Xerxes is changing. The just so inviting presence of him regains darkness. Of aggressiveness. And just to add to that, Xerxe's lips curl into a grin. "Where?" I can hardly follow the conversation. Xerxe's change takes me too much. The breath that hits me is too present. "In the dungeon," Platura mutters, and even though I can't see him, I can hear the anticipation in what's being said. That he's smiling and pleased to be giving Xerxes this information.