22. Aurora
Aurora
Isla
The punch lands before I even fully wake up, much less actively try to hit him.
"Fuck," a voice mutters, and I blink slowly to adjust to suddenly being conscious again, "Isla, relax. It's just me. Get up."
"What do you mean get up? " I groan, "What time is it?"
My eyes land on him as he uses a finger to dab at the dark, viscous liquid seeping from his nose as he chuckles. "God damn, you really got me." Tearing the covers off without answering my question, he throws my giant fur coat over my legs on the bed. "Get up or you're going to miss it."
"Miss what?" As the fog from sleep clears, the details in his shadowy face become more visible. He's wearing that silly boyish grin, the one that I hate. It's too wholesome, too bright. It makes my chest ache, wishing that he were someone else. Anyone else.
"I can't tell you," he's practically bouncing on his toes with excitement, ignoring the blood drying just above his curled upper lip. "Just get up."
Groggily, I throw my legs off the bed, reaching for the heavy coat and wrapping it around myself. Not waiting for another second, Eamon eases the boots I wore in and haven't touched since over my feet. I'm tempted to pull away, hating the ease with which he can put the shoes on me while still being so delicate and swift, like he's dressed me a million times.
Or maybe he's spent lots of time dressing other people.
No. Not going there.
Even if he has, I don't care. What he did before me and will continue to do once this has run its course is none of my business.
He pulls on my hands, forcing me to stand on shaky legs. I'm not sure if I'm still drunk or just that exhausted but standing right now seems an impossible task. With one of my hands wrapped firmly in his, he stomps out of my room and out into the living room. He grabs a pair of black gloves from the couch, sliding them over my fingers and fastening them around my wrists without a word.
"Are we going outside?" I feel like a fucking dog whose just overheard the word walk. How it took me this long to piece it together is a mystery. Probably has something to do with the fact that I've been wallowing in this steel coffin for months, thinking I'll never see the sun again.
His beaming grin meets me again before he answers, "It's going to be even colder than it was when you got here, okay?"
"Okay, but we are going outside?" Tears start to form, blurring the world around me.
With a nod, he grabs my hand again, easing me toward the metal door that's been taunting me for weeks. I notice as we walk through it that it doesnt even have so much as a lock or a code. He's left it completely open all this time and I didn't notice. Why would I have? Where would I go even if I made it outside?
Traversing back through the way we came in so long ago feels surreal, and I distantly wonder what it's going to smell like outside. I haven't smelled fresh air in so long, and I'm practically feening for it.
He places my hands on each side at the base of the ladder, "You won't be able to see, so you'll have to go by feel alone. I'll meet you up there, okay?"
I nod frantically, happy to do whatever he says as long as it gets me out of this hell for a minute. I feel the air stir behind me, a whiff of the ocean's salty, briny scent hitting me before it disappears, taking Eamon with it.
With a deep breath, I start climbing, carefully using my gloved hands to find my way, the weight of the boots far easier to carry than it was on our way in so long ago. Far above me, the click of the hatch opening incenses me to move faster. My hands and feet almost slip, the excitement of what lay ahead making me forget to be cautious. I feel as if I'm racing against time. It's like I'm in a dream, and I have to reach the end before I wake up, or I'll be trapped in this loop of almost freedom forever.
Cold air whooshes through the opening, nearly knocking me backward before I fix my grip. But even still, when I look up, it's pitch black. All I see above me is darkness.
"You're almost there, just a few more rungs," Eamons voice reaches me from above, so I continue on, still surrounded by the pitch black of night.
When the feeling of the ladder changes, my hand falling onto soft ground, I scramble onto it, laying on my back and soaking up every second of the fresh air. Even if it's the middle of the night and absolutely freezing fucking cold, the air is a godsend. It's like I'm breathing again for the first time in months.
Without thinking, I rip the gloves off with my teeth, digging my fingers into the dry grass and dirt, letting it sift through my hands, reminding me that there is still a life outside of that stupid cage I've been living in.
I don't even realize Eamon's still here until he starts to chuckle at my reaction to the sweet air and the feel of soft earth beneath me. I open my eyes, only able to see his outline against the dark sky and the bright stars behind him. He's little more than a silhouette, his form towering over me.
Through the dark, I think I can see his white teeth grinning down at me, but it's still too dark to tell. Instead, I let my eyes wander across the sky, wishing to stay here forever. It's frigid, I'm already uncomfortable on the dirty ground, but I've never seen so many stars.
"It's so beautiful," I breathe.
The ground beside me rustles, the giant beast of a man settling into a seated position next to me before laying down completely. Now I take a moment to look at him, the moon lighting up his features just enough to see the strong slope of his nose, the soft curve of his smiling lips, the way his long, dark lashes brush against his cheeks as he soaks in the cold night.
His face starts to change color, as does the smattering of snow around us, first subtly, then all at once, everything around us is bathed in greens and blues. When I finally realize what's happening, every inch of my skin breaks out in goosebumps.
My eyes dart up to the sky, the way it's suddenly a kaleidoscope of colors. A flowing river of a rainbow across my vision. Blues and greens, streams of purple and pink breaking through. It moves like smoke, twisting and cascading, entwining before separating again and again, dancing across the sky to a song only they can hear.
Everything around me blurs for a second, and I'm not sure if it's the heavy emotion in my throat or the freezing wind making my eyes water, but it doesn't matter. I wipe the tears away, laying flat on my back next to Eamon so I don't miss a single spot of this beautiful gift nature has created for us.
Nothing has ever been as beautiful as this. The lights create a waterfall as if the heavens themselves were pouring out their love for the earth. A sniffle breaks out, and I cover my nose and mouth with my hand, feeling ridiculous about the overwhelming reaction I'm having.
Eamons hand finds mine on the ground, "I cried the first time I saw them."
"No, you didn't." I argue, "You're just trying to make me feel better."
He chuckles, "Scouts honor. It was right down there on the beach, nearly a hundred years ago. I was searching for somewhere as far from human life as I could find. I was filled with such hate, such anger, I wanted to wrench every human soul from this earth."
The sorrow in his voice keeps me silent, not daring to breathe too loudly and scare him off.
"I knew if I was within 100 miles of another person, they'd be dead. Ripped to shreds and scattered across the world until they were unrecognizable. So I ran. I ran and ran and swam and swam, hoping my body could outrun my fury. Could outrun the horrors existing in my head. I thought I might end up out in the water for the rest of time, letting myself drown over and over for eternity rather than face the reality of who I would be without my purpose.
"And then I came upon an island three and a half days of swimming into the abyss. I prayed to whoever might be listening that this place would be uninhabited. That I could be safe from them and them safe from me. It was the middle of the night when I finally threw myself onto the shore.
"Within moments, the whole world around me was lit up, covered in an array of colors that I didn't even know was possible. And I broke down and sobbed. I cried for my sacrifice, that he would never get to know such a beautiful thing existed. I cried knowing such extremes could exist in this world, such stunning gifts as this," he gestures at the lights above us. "And such horrible pain.
"In Vankhala, there is nothing. I'm sure Bel could tell you from her brief visit, but it's just a blank, quiet existence of almost thought, almost sentience, floating between and through other demons, alongside them but never being aware of them. It may seem like torture to some, but there's been more than one time in my life that I've wished for the oblivion of it.
"And every time I do, I think of Aurora Borealis. Something so magical it lights up the entire sky, turning something as simple as wind and earths magnetic field into art. If I had let myself die the first time I wanted to, or the second or third, I would have missed this. Would have missed so many wonderful things this earth has given me."
Silent tears stream down my cheeks, burning as the cold air hits them as he continues, talking as much to himself as he is to me.
"And if I had killed every person I wanted to, they all would have missed out on this, too. Their family members, their friends, would have to continue living in a world, thinking about every second they get to live and their loved one doesn't."
So many questions fly through my mind. What was his sacrifices name? How old was he? What happened to him?
He sighs heavily, and I wonder for a second if he'll be willing to give me the answers without me having to ask the horrible questions or if he's finished sharing such a raw moment with me.
"If you decide the pain in your life makes it not worth living, there are many people who will be in the most wonderful moments of their lives and only be able to think of the fact that you should be a part of them. Bel will spend the rest of eternity missing you, wishing she could have saved you, wishing to share just one more second of happiness with you. Mike and Charlie will raise their child speaking of her auntie Isla in past tense, you'll be the missing piece of their family for the rest of their time on this earth. If you don't think your life is important, then think of them and theirs."
"I'm not suicidal, Eamon," I scoff.
"I never said you were. But you're not willing to fight to live, and that may as well be the same thing," Eamon tells me, a lump forming in my throat at his words. "As hard as it will be sometimes, if you forget that you need to live for yourself, remember to live for them. Until you and your life are a good enough reason."
"Would you miss me?" I ask, the question feeling stupid the second I say it.
He chuckles sadly, "Yes. I will miss you when you go to the next life."
Fear of what comes after my time here makes my whole body cold, "What makes you so sure there's a next life for people like me?" If I could be honest with myself, which I seldom am, that fear is probably the only reason I haven't taken that final step.
After a heavy sigh, he takes his time answering. "Because I can't accept the possibility that there's not. I can't accept that there might be a future where you just don't exist anymore. You existing somewhere I'll never reach you is a difficult enough idea to face."
The weight on my chest intensifies, his sincerity too frightening to deal with. So I do what I always do when I'm too afraid of the feelings growing in my chest. I fucking ruin it.
"So what?" I scoff, "Have you just been planning out this big speech since I got here? Waiting for the right moment to spring your anti-suicide message on me?"
He heaves out a heavy breath, as exasperated by me as I feel.
But I can't stop the terrible things spilling out of my mouth, "You know, this whole thing would have been a lot more effective if your cum wasn't still seeping from between my fucking legs."
A sad laugh rumbles his chest, "This is the first time in weeks the sky has been clear enough to see it."
Silence settles over us, uncomfortable and pained. I'm not sure what's worse, the cold seeping into my skin or the screaming in my head that I've once again hurt someone who only wanted to be closer to me.
I don't think I've ever hated myself more than I do right now. Repeating the same horrible patterns over and over is one thing, butdoing it to someone like Eamon who has been willing to be the bad guy, the villain, the asshole, as long as it kept me safe... it's just not fair to him to be stuck with me.
Tears blur my stupid fucking eyes again, and I wipe them away just as the imaginary Eamon voice pipes up in my mind: Just apologize.
But what I've said to him is unforgivable; it's a slap in the face of his sacrifice for me and the loss he's endured before I even existed. I will always forgive you, the voice calls, my madness circling further. A silent sob wracks my chest, and I release Eamons hand, wrapping my arms around my chest like the barrier could protect me from the outside world.
Rather than let me wallow alone, Eamons big arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest until my head rests where his arm meets his shoulder, his warmth radiating straight into my soul. He manages to hold me close to his body without hiding the beauty of the lights from me, adding to the physical shield I've given myself without suffocating me with it.
The phantom voice quiets, letting me just wallow in my self-hatred. I'm soaking in the scent and feeling of Eamon wrapped so comfortingly around me, even though I don't deserve one second of this version of him. The other one is easier to deal with. I can't stand his kind eyes, his warm, bubbly smile, his open arms. When he's being a fucking asshole, at least we can be on even footing. I can't be the version of myself that deserves this side of Eamon.
Somehow, in his arms, I cry myself to sleep, the lights passing behind my eyes, dreams of another reality where I could maybe be that person taunting me, just out of reach.
The dreams feel so real they could be memories, visions of Eamon and me as normal people, with no Sanctums, family curses, or demons at all. Dreams of little kids with Eamons big green eyes and my loud mouth, getting in trouble for cussing out their dad.
I'm not sure if the dreams are nightmares or not, if the fact that I'll never be able to have a life even close to that one is the cruelest possible thing I could see behind my eyelids.
When I wake in the morning, tucked safely into bed, no sign of Eamon at all, I let myself cry the way I wanted to last night. I wish I could have said I'm sorry— wish I was even capable of those words where he's involved. That imaginary voice of his almost made me feel like I could, like if I can carry a piece of Eamon with me, I'd be a stronger version of myself, more like who I want to be.
Breakfast sits waiting for me, the exact same as every morning, but something feels different. Maybe it's the food, maybe it's me, but the air in here feels off, like there's a tension ready to break that I can't put my finger on.
After scarfing down the food and coffee, I ready myself for combat training, for the penance I'll pay for my cruelty last night. As I slide the tennis shoes on, a crawling sensation winds its way up my spine.
There's no way to explain it or justify this dread filling my stomach, but all I know is that something's wrong here.
What the fuck is happening?
All at once, the house falls into darkness, only the dim emergency lights alerting me to something going wrong.
"Eamon?" I call out, hoping he'll answer me and assure me that it's just a glitch in the system that will be back online in just a minute. But I'm met with nothing but the blaring of an alarm and an automated voice telling me there's a system failure.
Between what I can hear and see, I can feel the predator standing just out of my sight, waiting for me to walk into the trap unaware or be still long enough for it to catch me.
Eamon took us outside last night and somehow, someone was watching. It's the only thing that makes any sense. We exposed ourselves, and now, everything he's been worrying about is going to happen right inside this bunker he promised me was safe.
Pure instinct has me rolling off the bed at the very last second, just before a massive black body lands where I was just a second before. The monster lunges for me again, and I kick at its enormous head, screaming at the top of my lungs before I get up onto my feet, scrambling and running into the hall, trying to escape the giant beast trying to kill me.