♟️five | Aella

♟️7 Rings by Ariana Grande

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"I remember enough things about him to know this, and he would totally feel at ease knowing that his oldest daughter killed this excuse of a human being, to protect herself. If mum would, and you apparently took that horrible temper and anger issues of yours from him, that he would have done worse."

"You don't know that, you,"

"Had your daughter been in this situation, would you have killed the bastard trying to assault her sexually?" He asked instead and I froze, eyes going to him, finding his already focused in me. "If you say no, we'll both know you are lying, Cinderella. Better yet, let's put it into a more realistic situation, since you're not a mother. What if Athena,"

"I would have ripped him to bloody pieces with my own hands," I hissed automatically and he grinned.

"My point exactly. You are not less than your sister or your future daughter, if you ever have one, Cinderella. You are a daughter and you are a sister too, you should put yourself on your own spotlight a bit more, because this," he pointed to the remains on the wood crusher, "was not wrong. If any person ever says this is wrong, it's because they are either out of their bloody mind, or because they have never been in a situation like that. You saved yourself from a trauma that could have made you more mentally ill than you already are. This is survival, not a crime, you survived, you saved yourself."

Well, I think this might be the first time in the past 2 years since we ever bloody talked like two normal people, as normal as we could possibly be.

"You didn't need anyone to save you, and you may get some traumas because of this, but you saved yourself, and a person without traumas can't be trusted. You ain't a damsel in distress, you've made your point. But to make sure shit like this won't happen again, since you won't find a rock everywhere, you better keep a dagger with you, just in case, put it on your upper thigh or boots."

"I might end up murdering you next if I keep a knife on me, Tristan, that is not a good fucking idea," I scoffed, and I meant it. "You have a very, very killable face, and your horrible personality makes it even more tempting the desire to murder you. I could end up slicing your throat open."

"Are you flirting with me, Aella?" He purred.

"As if, you're not my type," I scowled rolling my eyes and looked away from the egocentric bastard, not wanting to think about anything flirtatious regarding him, glad that my face is splattered with blood so he won't notice how my skin heated up. "How are we... going to clean this mess up?" I stared at the wood crusher, not feeling as terrible as I did a minute ago.

He only spoke again after he finished smashing all of Christian's accessories to "We'll use the canvas water pipe," he pointed to the huge fire brigade water pipe in the left corner at the back of the cabin.

An anxious chuckle left my throat, "Uh, why do you have all this again?" I stared at the pipe, then at the wood crusher, and back at him, who for whatever reason, had a crooked grin on. "What's your body count?"

"154," he said nonchalantly and I froze.

"You've killed 154 people?" What the hell?

He blinked, "Oh? You were asking how many people I've killed?"

My jaw dropped, "Are you a whore?"

To my shock, Tristan laughed, as in giggled, dimples popping, white perfect teeth showing, "I'm insatiable, it's different. I've never fucked whores, that's not my... type. Nothing against sex workers."

I don't want to think about it! "How many?"

His eyes darkened, "27, with a 16:8:3 ratio."

Tristan killed... 27 people. 27 human beings.

"14 in self defense, 8 out of anger, 5 to protect someone I care about," he rolled his shoulders, avoiding my eyes. "No, I do not regret it, neither am I haunted by it. None of them were good people for a matter of fact, they were Christian's type of people, the disposable kind who's better off dead."

Hah, why am I not surprised that he's calling a human being disposable? But instead of judging him, since that would make me a damned hypocrite, given what I just did, I said, "14 people tried to kill you? See? I told you, you have a killable face!" Refusing to look at him, I walked to the pipe, feeling his gaze on me but pretending not to. "And you do seem like the person who does lots of shit that would possibly get him killed. Like, sleeping with a married woman and her husband finding out."

"Jesus, Cinderella, I may be lots of things, but I am not one to mess with compromised people. If I give so importance to loyalty, why would I do that?" He groaned, sounding offended. "You clearly thinks horribly about me."

"Not like you've shown anything other than horrible things to me," I rolled my eyes, trying to look for the switch to turn the water on.

But then he was close to me again, grabbing the pipe out of my hand, "Don't turn it on yet, we have to get his remains first, or it'll get messy. We need what's left of him to be bloodied because the piranhas are attracted to blood."

"How many times have you crushed a human body in the wood crusher?" I arched my eyebrows, skeptical, turning to it again, crunching my nose at the pungent scent of Christian's remains.

"A ratio of 10:5:3 out of the ones I killed, so, 29 people, 30 with Christian," he rolled his shoulders and when I looked at his hands, there were gloves on them, small ones that he was handing it to me. "I take that you don't want to feel the texture of what's left of the bastard, so, here, it was mine."

And I'm pretty sure my eyebrows went to my bloodline as I stared from my hands that will fit the gloves perfectly to his, that are ridiculously huger than mine, "What the hell? Did you do this since you were 5 or something?" I gasped, putting them on.

"I had a spurge of growth at 12, I wasn't an abnormally tall kid, if that's what you believed," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "So, not at 5, but at 10, that's how old I was when my hand was as big as yours, Cinderella, because you are... abnormally small."

I shot him an annoyed glare, "I am not small, I am average. In fact, in many places around the world, I am a tall girl," not my fault if he's so tall, he puts both my dad and Christian to shame, it's ridiculous and extremely annoying, I hate it.

"Tall where? You're nearly 5 centimeters shorter than 170, Cinderella," he mocked, as if I had just told him the most stupid joke in the world and I clenched my jaw annoyed, because if there's something I don't like, is that anyone mocks my height. "If I consider 170cm a short height, imagine yours."

"That's 'cuz you're an arrogant asshole."

He cocked an eyebrow at me with that damned smug that I hate so fucking much, adorning his damning lips, sarcasm overflowing from every pore of his body.

I hate it.

I hate him.