You Both Want Me Dead

Aurora Brooks POV

"When a fire starts, do not complain about the smoke that will choke you."

I shoved his shoulders away from me and shouted.

"Do not try to bully me. And do not let that brain of yours think you can threaten me."

My eyes burst with tears as if I were fighting death itself.

"You cannot defeat a girl raised by a cruel life."

The tight anger on his face slowly loosened, though his hand was still gripping my neck. He pulled his hand away and turned toward his desk, speaking with cold irritation.

"You never stop draining the best parts of me. Aurora, I am still taking into consideration that you are a girl."

The moment he finished shouting, I collapsed onto the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He slowly turned toward me. I rubbed my neck and curled into the corner of the office.

His fast breathing filled the room. My hysterical gasps mixed with it violently.

"Aurora."

My head dropped forward under a flood of emotion. My loud crying still would not stop.

"Are you okay?"

He crouched quickly in front of me. I did not care that he was there. A panic attack was swallowing me alive.

My voice came out broken, tearing my throat apart.

"I am going to die."

He lifted my hand from the floor and wrapped it inside his cold palm. His fingers rubbed gently over it while he spoke.

"You are having a panic attack. Breathe slowly."

My mouth opened wide. My mind was drowning in thoughts telling me I was standing on the edge of death. My violent breathing confirmed it.

"I am going to die. I will die because of you both. You both want me dead."

He lifted my chin so I had to face him. His eyes looked terrified. I had never seen him like this before. It was as if he had put on a completely different face instead of the hostile one I knew.

"Take a deep breath and count with me to ten. No one will dare hurt you."

My chest jerked violently. My legs would not stop shaking.

I nodded weakly and whispered with a hoarse voice.

"Okay."

He brushed my hair gently, and for a moment I wondered if this was the same man who had almost crushed the life out of me a minute ago. Of course not. I would never believe this cheap kindness.

He began counting slowly to ten. I followed him with a tight, broken voice while my head leaned against the wall, drifting dangerously close to unconsciousness.

His fingers folded one of mine after every number he counted until we reached ten. Then he asked calmly, his composure returning to cover his voice.

"How do you feel now?"

I noticed he was still holding my hand. I pulled it away from him and gathered what little strength I had left.

"Fine."

When I wiped under my eyes, he quickly brushed his thumb across my chin.

He rose smoothly to his feet.

"A stray tear."

I took a deep breath and stood up behind him.

"You did not need to wipe it. I could have done that myself."

At that moment, the quiet room was interrupted by steady knocking on the door. The captain spoke calmly.

"What is it?"

It was Martin who stepped inside, but he did not see me because I was standing behind. His voice carried the same calm tone as his friend.

"There is a problem on ship number seven. We need you there, Captain."

Alexander sat in his chair with cool composure.

"I will come shortly. Call the marine engineer. I want him there before I arrive."

Martin nodded and left the office.

I sighed in relief and prepared to leave. I spoke with clear arrogance.

"I am done talking to you. I am leaving."

He did not let me take another step. His voice stopped me cold.

"We are not finished yet."

He stood there, holding his white captain hat between his fingers. With practiced ease, he placed it on his head. Then he took a small metal box from the drawer behind him.

"What are you planning to say this time? Will you give me another panic attack, or will you just kill me?"

He held the steel box out to me with clear irritation.

"I said we are not finished. Understand?"

I did not take it from him.

When he noticed my refusal, he kept the box in his hand and ordered me arrogantly to move.

"In front of me."

I dug my nails into my leather bag and walked ahead of him. A strange feeling crept over me, telling me he was freely staring at my backside.

I quickly turned to catch him in the act.

But he was looking down at his bag with clear annoyance.

My heart relaxed a little. At least he was not the type of man obsessed with staring at women's asses no matter the situation.