I’ve thought about this moment, what he would be like, how our conversation would flow. I’ve thought about it every time I set foot into the asylum. In subtle waves of a daydream, in glimpses down the hall. And now here he is.
I watch the door. Knowing that his eyes are glued to me makes it hard to drag myself back to reality. His wrists twist under the shackles, causing the chains to clink together. My head pivots slowly back to where he sits.
“How did you know my first name?” I ask. Not wasting a second to know this man cover to cover.
He blinks slowly, almost anticipating that would be my first question.
“You look like a Skylenna,” he says plainly.
“That’s the answer you’re going to go with?” Bold. Too bold. Reel it in.
“Why did you call me Dessin, even though your instructor warned you against it?” I catch myself flinching at the deepness of his voice. It sinks in my gut and twists around my bones.
“Because you look like a Dessin.”
He looks me over, exhaling through his nose. “How old are you?” My age? He really wants to know my age?
“This is a simple question coming from a man who supposedly knows everything,” I say, unimpressed.
“Humor me.”
“Nineteen.” I scoot forward in my chair. “How old are you?”
“So, you’re nineteen.” He tilts his chin up an inch. “And you’re living with a twenty-five-year-old unmarried man.”
Instantly, my palms moisten, and my forehead prickles with heat. Ah, there it is. Something to be impressed about. He knows about Aurick. Or at least, he’s hinting at it.
I shrug. “Was there a question in the statement? He is my friend.”
A dark eyebrow arches. “Does he know that?”
“Yes.” I narrow my eyes. “But you so clearly have another opinion. Let’s hear it.”
But he doesn’t share it. Only continues to stare at me. He raises his chin, looks down at me, and the right corner of his mouth curls upward.
“Why did it take you so long to join me?” He asks. And something about his question clenches my heart in an iron fist to the point of pain. Join him. Find him in this hell.
“It wasn’t easy,” I say quietly. “I had to get through other rooms first to gain credibility.”
He stares at me as if I’m an insect he’s studying under a magnifying glass. I want to squirm under his hold. “And you chose to be in this room with me, yes?”
“Yes.” I nod.
“Even after you heard of what became of Sern.”
I gulp, and it’s an audible gurgle in my chest, causing a nearly undetectable smirk to form over his mouth. My cheeks burn in response as if I’ve fallen asleep in the sun.
“Especially after I heard what happened to Sern,” I say.
“And why is that? Death wish? Or perhaps you have a fascination for danger.” His tone is bored and taunting at the same time. He’s trying to make me uncomfortable. Testing his limits. But I force myself to become an impassible rock in the center of a rushing current.
“Danger?” I say, urging my voice to sound confident. “I take it you’re pretty safe to be around, then. Consider me unafraid.”
His eyes widen in amusement. He lifts his chin, looking down at me with a new layer of curiosity. The subtle movement is like a dragon unfurling its wings.
“Give it time,” he whispers.
My thoughts are scattered wisps of smoke.
He gives me a solid moment of silence before I’m ready to respond. It gives me the time to gather the right questions. Ones that he may answer, as it could benefit him.
“Suseas told me that you have a core personality, but they haven’t seen him since you admitted yourself years ago. Does that mean he’s gone? Disappeared?”
Annoyance flashes across his face like a splash of ice water.
“I don’t care for that label. Core personality. That suggests that I am not real. I am not a person at all, but a mere extension of his mind.” The deep, irritated tone of his voice strains my neck and knots my stomach.
“I can respect that,” I utter, careful not to further upset him. “Educate me. What should I call it?”
That annoyance that lowered his lids in a stern scowl melts away.
“He was the previous host. I fully took over as host when we admitted ourselves.” Dessin shifts his hands over his thighs. The chains clank together loudly. “And he did not disappear. He’s simply—out of reach, safe in the inner world.”
“The inner world?”
“It’s the place in our mind an alter can live in peace, away from trauma.” He’s patient. The mask of the man that wanted to terrify Suseas is now on a leash.
Trauma. Something happened to make him like this.
A thought crosses his face, and he suddenly looks like he might laugh. “You’re going to ask what an alter means. It’s what you would call a personality. But it’s more than that. It’s an alter. An individual person.”
I smile, careful not to let my eyes linger on his tightly coiled muscles.
“Thank you for explaining all of this. I’m happy to learn.”
He takes a moment to examine my posture, my expression, as if he’s trying to predict the flow of our conversation. “What do you see—when you look at me?” A deep breath moves his hard, bulky chest. And he doesn’t look away.
Odd. Such a strange question. What tactic of manipulation is this?
“I—” I don’t know. “Why would you ask me that?”
There’s a need in his stare. An unwavering need for my answer.
“Humor me,” he says.
I blow out a nervous breath. “I see—a carefully orchestrated game—I see—power—danger—warmth—I see—a man, under a lot of pressure.” It spills out without any real time to sit and think and consider.
Another beat of examination from his long, dark stare.
“Warmth, hmm?” A wicked smile.
Ugh. I definitely should have thought before I spoke.
“I retract that word.” I smile sweetly. “And what do you see when you look at me?”
His eyes lighten slightly. “Naive. Trusting. Young. Ambitious. Reckless.”
I scoff. “That’s a judgmental observation for someone who has observed all of two minutes of me.” I reciprocate his same mocking tone.
“Who says these are the only minutes I have observed?”
