Knox was quick to become bored with the suit and it only took a few moments before he started to hate it.
He felt as if the suit were trying to strangle him and he felt hot and uncomfortable underneath the black material. Knox swallowed hard, his hands started to shake and sweat started to bead across his forehead and dampen his hair. He knew immediately what was happening to him, a panic attack, it was rare when Knox got them but for some reason they seemed to be happening a few times now.
The last time he had a panic attack was the day Lt. Ryker killed the extra baby.
Knox quickly sat down on the bed, the world around him was spinning and his lungs only breathed in a couple of mouthfuls of air. He wiped the sweat away from his forehead, looked down at his hands and realised that not only were they still shaking but had now took on a clammy sort of quality. This was not how a Highborn was supposed to act, he wasn't supposed to have a panic attack every time he thought about slaves or that goddamn baby.
At that moment a knock on his bedroom door quickly brought him back to reality and grounded him enough so he was finally able to tell the person on the other side of the door to come in.
Knox sighed as Haven walked into the room, she held onto her box of handy stitching material as if it were a buoy and silently she kneeled before him as he got up fro her to undo the stitching that she had made earlier.
The silence was awkward, terrible and filled with unsaid words. Knox wanted desperately to talk to her, to give her some sign that he really didn't meant to slap her earlier, he wanted to explain to her that it was just reflex, a by-product of his training in the military. Knox closed his eyes and wiped his hands across his face as he imagined how he must have looked to Haven when he had slapped her.
"H-How old are you, Haven?" He asked her awkwardly, coughing a little and wishing that he could have drink right about now. He just wanted the silence to stop.
"Sixteen, sir." Haven answered bluntly, she sounded tired and frustrated.
Knox frowned at that, she was only sixteen and already she was working harder than Knox had done when he was at that age. They were only three years apart in age, but to Knox if felt like a lifetime, he was only nineteen but already he felt old and decrepit.
In that very moment Knox would have felt sorry for the girl, sorry about her slavery and the treatment she gets handed to because she lived in the slave quarters. But Knox quickly pushed those treacherous thoughts away, he thought – and quite violently I might add - instead about beating a slave up, he thought about how they looked disgusting and lived in their disgusting little apartments.
His thoughts consumed for him hours.
Knox tried to mask his confused thoughts and feelings with anger towards the slaves, he tried to imagine the most horrific thing that he could do to them… to Haven, but instead of feeling pride and glory Knox felt sick. Which in turn just made him feel even angrier, it was a vicious cycle and every moment Knox started to hate himself more and more.
“Get out.” Knox mumbled through gritted teeth, the girl looked up but didn’t move, she didn’t say anything; all she did was look at him with large dark brown eyes…
“Get out, get out get out!” Knox shouted pointing at the door as the girl quickly grabbed the box that came with her. Pushing the girl out of his room and slamming it shut behind her.
The silence rattled and choked everything that was good left in the house, but after a few moments Knox’s anger and sickness and self-hatred settled itself into an uncomfortable position. Knox could still feel it, but it no longer shouted and screamed at him as it had been doing before.
Knox closed his eyes, frustrated by his thoughts and by Haven who made him think ridiculous things. Like the hypocrisy of the Highborns and the inequality of the slaves. They were thoughts that terrified Knox, they even made him hate himself, but for some reason he didn’t want to stop thinking about it and he didn’t want to stop thinking about Haven. These were new and precious, his mind felt as if it were trying to open a door that had no key, it felt good.