22. Barythaya
BARYTHAYA
T here's something wrong. Something's missing. It's been missing since I got out of the hospital. I'd been in some sort of accident. The doctors said I was suffering from memory loss and that it could take weeks or months for me to gain this lime loss back. Then again, I might never gain it back. Although it was strange, because I remembered my whole life, even the parts I wished would have been erased. But only the last month or so, was gone.
But this feeling, it's not a memory exactly, at least not one I can place, but more like an emptiness that feels like it's been carved out of me, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest.
The feeling comes in waves. An inexplicable yearning, like a distant echo from someone I can't quite reach.
But tonight? Tonight, it's unbearable.
I twist and turn in bed, the sheets are tangled around my legs, but no matter how much I struggle, I can't find peace. My mind is lost, and soon, I'm not here anymore. Instead, I'm drifting, slipping into a dream.
His hands are the first thing I feel. They're rough, urgent and possesive. They slide over my skin with a hunger that both excites and terrifies me.
His touch ignites every nerve, tracing hot paths over my bare thighs, he grips my hips as if he's claimed every inch of me. I arch into him, my body reacting as if it knows him. The feeling's intimate and desperate. I know him, even though his face is hidden.
The dream shifts, and suddenly I'm beneath him. His weight presses into me, heavy and yet comforting. I should be afraid but instead, all I feel is this desperate, aching need. His hot lips graze my neck, his tongue leaving a hot wet kiss. His warm breath leaves me trembling with want, but no matter how hard I try, I can't see him clearly. It's like he's wrapped in shadows, just out of reach.
But then, I notice it. A familiar symbol, twisting and intricate. It's an ancient ruin etched into his arm. My fingers trace the lines, and something inside me shifts—something otherworldly and powerful. I've seen this symbol before. I know it. I grip his arm tighter, my pulse racing as the connection between us deepens, becoming something raw, undeniable.
His kisses deepen, my body molds to his as I feel his hardness press against me. A wave of pleasure crashes over me, ripping through my body, as he slides inside of me as if he belonged there.
My body jerked awake, the orgasm still pulsing through me, It left me shaking and feeling vulnerable, almost on the verge of teard.
I shoved the sheets off me and stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. Turning the light on, I flinched at the brightness from it. Breathlessly I stared at myself in the mirror. My skin was flushed and I had these deep circles under my eyes. I also had that damn symbol— his symbol—burned into my mind. Shutting off the light I move out of the bedroom, I can't stay still, can't shake the feeling that something's missing, something important.
I move downstairs to the empty tattoo parlor, the silence was too intense, it unnerved me. Turning on the light I turned to search for my sketchpad. I found it lying on the floor. My hands trembled as I start to sweep through the book, searching for a blank page. Suddenly, my eye catches a drawing, and I slowly trail the pages back and stop, my breath hitching.
The symbol from my dream. Clear. Detailed. Familiar. Was staring back at me.
My chest tightened, and I swallowed hard.
How the hell did this thing get on my pages?
Had I sketched it for someone recently? Who?
Among all these questions, suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind—blinding and violent. A man's handsome face, a glinting blade, the sound of distant screams as blood, so much blood pools at my feet. I dropped the sketchpad, stumbling back, heart pounding in my chest. The memory slips away just as fast as it came, leaving me with this feeling of dread.
What the hell was that?
The next day, the feeling of being watched starts the moment I step outside. At first, I shake it off, thinking it's just my nerves. But as the day drags on, the sensation continues, like a shadow that won't leave. Every time I turn a corner, I feel eyes on me. Every time I stop to look over my shoulder, no one's there, but I could feel them.
By evening, I couldn't take it anymore. My nerves were shot, my pulse hammering as I rushed home.
I was just getting home when I saw him. A figure, dark and purposeful, trailing behind me. Stalking me.
My heart leapt into my throat and fear ripped through me. On instinct I started to run. My feet pounded the pavement, my breathing coming in ragged gasps as I dart down an alley. But I can hear him—he's gaining on me.
I whirl around just as he rounds the corner, and I freeze.
His eyes. There's something in them, something sad and desperate that makes me stop cold. It's as if he's pleading with me to understand something, but I can't, I don't. Instead, I press further into the darkness. He steps forward, hands raised like he's trying to show me he's not a threat. But I can't shake the feeling that I know him.
"Stop!" I shout, my voice trembling as I back against the brick wall. "Who are you? What do you want?"
He slows, chest heaving, eyes dark with emotion. "I'm not going to hurt you," he says, his voice thick with an ache that hits me straight in the heart. "Please, just... just listen."
I stare at him, trying to piece together why he feels so familiar, why the sight of him sends this wave of longing and pain crashing over me.
"Do I know you?" The question slips out before I can stop it, my voice barely above a whisper.
He steps closer, his expression softens as he reaches out. his hand lifting hesitantly, fingertips brushing my cheek. The touch is gentle, like he's terrified I'll disappear.
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. You'd never remember."
But his touch… God, his touch. It doesn't scare me. It calls to me. My breath catches as I reach up, fingers grazing his jaw, tracing the rough lines of his face. His skin feels like a memory I've been chasing for years.
"I do know you," I whisper, my voice trembling with the weight of the truth.
His eyes darken, filled with so much pain, and before I can take another breath, his lips crash against mine.
The kiss is desperate—wild, filled with an urgency that leaves me breathless. It's not soft or gentle. It's consuming, fierce, like he's afraid this moment will slip away. His hands grip my hips, pulling me against him, and I can feel his heart pounding as fast as mine.
And then, it hits me.
Virgil.
His name slams into my mind, knocking the air from my lungs. Images flood my memory—his face, the blade, the screams. The emptiness that's haunted me this long is suddenly filled with brutal, undeniable clarity.
I pull back, tears streaming down my face as I whisper, "I remember. I remember everything."
His eyes widen, a mix of hope and heartbreak swirling within them. He doesn't get a chance to speak before I throw myself into his arms, my lips crashing against his again, needing him, needing this —this reunion, this connection that feels like home.
"I missed you," I breathe against his lips, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. "I missed you so damn much."
"Fuck, baby girl." He holds me tight, his body trembling as he kisses me back with the same hunger, the same desperate need.
"You saved me," I whispered against his mouth.
"I gave you up," he sobbed, his hot breath caressing my lips. "I had to."
"Why?" I asked him, running my hands through his hair, needing his touch.
"Because I needed to sacrifice something."
"What?" I asked.
"Love," the word was a soft whisper. "My love for you, Barythaya. It was the only thing that would save you...us."
"You, idiot. How could you?" I banged a fist on his chest, upset and yet I wrapped that same arm around and yanked him in for another kiss.
"I fucking love you, woman." He said the phrase with such earnestness that I could feel it in my core.
Cupping his face I stared into his eyes. "I swear to God. You do that again, and I will haunt you for the rest of your days."
"Promise," he whispered.
I laughed, humming an I love you against his lips.
It was like the world finally made sense again, like I found the part of myself I didn't even know I'd lost.
And in that moment, I realized Virgil had gotten his miracle. God hadn't abandoned him. He'd led me right back to him.
To us.