Page 13 of King of Hollywood
Now I wished I had.
Especially because now that I was thinking about it, I wasn’t certain how to accidentally kill someone at all.
Every time I’d murdered someone it had been quite intentional.
He truly was an enigma.
Fascinating.
“One moment.” I took several minutes to make sure that I was correct, that there wasn’t anything to cover up at all. When I finished, I turned my attention back to the small-gremlin-man only to realize he was also staring at the spot I’d been inspecting.
There was a haunted expression on his face. I’d looked at him before that moment, yes. But I hadn’t really paid attention. And now that I was, it became readily apparent how tired the poor thing actually appeared. There were papery bruises beneath his eyes. And his lips—despite the chapstick I’d applied—looked bitten raw.
“Are you…” without thinking, words spilled free, “alright?”
Felix blinked. He blinked again. He blinked a third time.
And then he did something horrible.
Something terrible.
The worst possible thing he ever could’ve done.
He began to cry.
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to do. Tears spilled down his cheeks, an awful, shuddery little noise escaping him. He ducked his chin down and away—like he was trying to hide—like he was ashamed of the emotion he was currently experiencing.
“I’m—okay,” Felix hiccuped out, somehow. “Really. I’m just happy you’re here. I didn’t know what to do.” More tears spilled free. “I apologize. This…” Felix waved at himself, encompassing the wetness probably. “Is not like me. It’s been a trying day.”
He’d said he was fine, so he was.
But he was also still crying.
Unsure what to do, I reached out, and gently patted his shoulder. He felt even more solid than he looked. A delicious span of muscle filled my palm as I gave him a gentle rub. “It would…be okay if you weren’t. I am often not fine, and I survive every time.”
There. That was a good thing to say, wasn’t it?
“Thank you,” Felix sniffled, pressing into my touch as greedily as a cat tipping toward a puddle of sun.
“If you don’t normally cry, why do it now?” I frowned. Even I could connect the obvious dots here. It didn’t take a genius to infer that a normal person might be at least somewhat disturbed after they’d committed murder. I assumed so, anyway. “Is it because of the man you killed?”
“I feel bad,” Felix stared up at me, a frankly pitiful look on his face. He tried to duck his head away again—still ashamed—but I latched onto his cheeks and yanked him back into place.
Once again, he reminded me of the dog we’d had growing up. Dogs liked to be petted, apparently so did Felixes. “I didn’t mean to do it,” his voice shook, vibrating my fingers. “He didn’t deserve that.”
“I believe you,” I hadn’t before, but I did now. I’d grown up with a truck full of sisters, therefore nothing frightened me more than a person who cried. I hated this. It made me uncomfortable.
But it also made me…well…
It made me see Felix as human.
I supposed I hadn’t ever seen him that way before.
He intrigued me in a way nothing but death ever had. The fact that I recognized him, but couldn’t place his face bothered me. I’d always had a spectacular memory. I could admit, my curiosity was most definitely piqued—especially after Felix had convinced me to leave his secret alone.
“Would you cry if he had deserved it?” I asked, because I couldn’t help myself. Something itched beneath my skin. Something primal and needy. A beast, blinking awake. “Would you feel bad?”
Felix thought for a moment. A dark expression crossed his face, like he was remembering something, or someone. Someone he wished he’d killed.