The Tyrant's Trophy

(A/N: dmcwalker5, Thank you for your comments - I really do appreciate them. Also, sorry for the wait guys: I'm aiming to post a chapter a week. God willing, the pace will pick up even more: I got a lot of ideas planned for the next chapters, hehehehe. God bless and enjoy.)

Maybell

It seems all I can do lately is apologize to everyone. Apologize for my assault on Quinn and Abijah. Apologize for being irritated with Quinn’s therapy sessions. Apologize for crying out of the blue during hours of the day, forcing Chad to hold me and whisper that things will ‘be ok’.

I lay curled up under my covers - too afraid to move in case these unwanted emotions spark up again and I lose control…again. I’d been in this state since five in the morning and glancing at the clock hung on the wall, it was now ten in the morning. My legs felt numb but who cares at this point?

If I just rot here and die, that’s fine. That means I won’t lose control again and attack anybody. I won’t get the urge to quench this hatred in me. To act out until I gained back control of my body.

Today, I didn’t even want Chad in my room. He stayed by my side the entire day, yesterday. And there was something I couldn’t get out of my mind while we were together. I had the strangest urge while he was comforting me, cradling me. My head rested on his chest, sniffing, wondering for the 100th time that day what was happening to me.

Then I spotted his neck. I’ve seen his neck multiple times - the man’s been wearing V-neck tees around me but this time it was different. He wasn’t different: Chad was the same, sweet, honest man around me. I was different…With me clinging to him, the collar of the shirt was pulled down, slightly revealing the crook where the shoulder and neck met.

Seeing that particular patch of skin gave me the strongest urge to lean towards it and bite it. It was have been easy and Chad was too vulnerable - too stupidly trusting of me even though he’s seen what I was becoming capable of.

Thankfully, Abijah’s frantic running brought me back from those dangerous thoughts. Curiously, we watched her enter her room and ransack it. Like the Tasmanian devil, she came and left in a chaotic whirlwind - only saying hi and bye while leaving.

I don’t feel bad for attacking that scum; he deserved worse than what I did. However, I was sorry for choking Abijah. If it wasn’t for her, I would still be with Phil: blinded by my ‘love’ for him and stupid enough to stand beside him as he killed me slowly.

In a way, I should be grateful she blackmailed me and started this domino effect. It gave me something I didn’t have before power.

Now it begs the question: What do I do with this power? I can think of a few things.

As if sensing my thoughts, Abijah knocked on my door. “Can I come in?” She asked, respectfully.

Every fiber of my being said play sleeping but I couldn’t find the energy to act. “Yes.” I sighed, not moving a muscle. She heard and came in.

She came into my view, probably so I wouldn’t get spooked when the bed dipped and attacked her for it. We stayed in our positions for a few minutes, waiting for someone to begin this conversation. I continued staring at the wall: the ugly wall where shapes randomly formed in the corners of my eyes.

“Maybell, I’m sorry.” Abijah began. My eyes drifted to her. She seemed drained, which was funny considering what a force of nature she could be.

“What for?” Had she lost it? “I attacked you. Why would you apologize to me for it?”

“Because I’m played a role in the pain you’re feeling.” My eyes widen at that. The strong woman I’d come to know seemed smaller than me now. Her head hung low and her shoulders slumped. “I,” She paused, eyebrows furrowed in thought, before sighing. “I understand why you attacked me. I wanted to help you - I still want to - but I didn’t give you the choice to accept my help. No matter what you wanted, I still would have steered you to choose my direction. I see now…that’s how I am with everyone maybe.”

Regret can do a lot to a person. It made me wonder what kind of regrets were dancing around in Abijah’s brain. She never apologized for blackmailing me - insisting it was the best direction for my life. Now, she acknowledged that though it was the best choice, her method was wrong. It was effective but still infringed on my will - something my husband did often in the not-so-distant past.

I could hear the slightest tremble in her voice and the way her breath tried not to hitch. The coarseness in her voice let me know it was safe, this time, to trust her. She was vulnerable - offering herself up to my mercy and willing to accept my forgiveness or rejection.

It…pulled at something in me, reminding me of the woman I was slowly losing deep within. It called her back, reminding her of those strands of humanity that, maybe, could be connected once more.

Most of all, it felt nice to receive a sorry in the end. To have a person who hurt me acknowledge it and not turn a blind eye. “I’m sorry, too.” I conceded, a small warmth flooding my heart. “How’s your neck?”

Without thinking, she rubbed it “I’m fine. Listen, um…” Cautiously, Abijah reached to pat my leg. “My friend Kelly is planning a night out and I want to invite you. I think it would be good to get out of this stuffy place for a night.”