Chapter 7 Bleakness and Dark Clouds
Bleakness and Dark Clouds
River woke slowly, her mind drifting back to her in bits and pieces. Her limbs were cumbersome, but that wasn’t surprising, since all of her was that way. Getting out of bed felt like the most strenuous of tasks, but the pressure on her bladder made it clear she couldn’t stay here much longer.
A comforter was pulled up to River’s neck, the mattress beneath her was soft, and she was warm and toasty. By all accounts, she should’ve been content. At peace, even.
But something was missing. She could feel it in the depths of her soul.
River’s mind was still coming back to her as she reached out, patting the mattress beside her. The sheet was cool. Something inside River warped, and she felt it acutely. Because…
Oh, gods.
River shuddered, a full-body experience that wracked her from head to toe as her memories inundated her. They stacked on top of each other, worse and worse and fucking worse, until there were no gaps in her recollection.
She recalled every terrible, horrible thing that had happened. There was no hiding from her curse.
River moaned, the low sound betraying the agony she felt inside, and she looked around. The guest room in Ryker’s house was pretty—far too pretty for a dark, cursed person like her.
White lace curtains were drawn over the windows, and faint streams of muted sunlight shone through the fabric. It was comfortable, homey in a way that her room in Waterborn House never had been, even though her space there was at least three times the size.
A glance at the clock on the bedside table told her it was late afternoon. River couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept most of the day away. Maybe she should’ve been worried about that, but she had bigger problems.
Even though the room was well put-together and comforting, there was a darkness to it. A murky gloom that was reflected in River’s soul. The sunlight didn’t seem as bright as it should have been. The comforter, a pale violet, seemed faded. The rug was a dimmer blue than River remembered.
The clouds were still there.
Sitting up and clutching the comforter to her chest, River scanned the room. Her fingers twitched with the urge to pick up her phone and message Nikhail, but she didn’t know where the device had gone. She hadn’t seen it since before the storm.
“No,” she rasped, giving her head a shake.
She couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t let herself fall into that murky pit once again. Even though…
Her gaze dropped to her wrists, and the prohiberis shackles seemed blacker than before. Heavier, too. As if they were dragging her down, a weight she couldn’t shake.
They seemed more overwhelming than they had yesterday.
Eventually, River managed to haul herself out of bed. She shuffled to the ensuite bathroom. It was small, as were most of the original rooms in the farmhouse, but that didn’t bother her.
She took care of her needs and washed her hands before removing her clothes. Leaving them in a pile on the floor, she climbed into the shower, turning the knob all the way to the right.
Glacial water pelted her body, each drop of rain as cold as ice. River’s teeth clattered as she poured shampoo into her palm. She stepped out of the chilly stream long enough to lather her hair. Then, she was back beneath it once more.
Her fingers trembled, and goose bumps erupted on her flesh as she rinsed her hair. She repeated the steps for conditioner, and once more to wash her body.
At some point, tears started flowing down River’s cheeks, mingling with the cold water pouring over her. She stood in a pool of suds, frigid water, and tears, and lost herself in her grief. In her pain. In the emptiness that was doomed to be her reality for the rest of her life.
River wasn’t sure how long she stayed in the shower before she reached over with a trembling hand, her skin as wrinkled as a raisin, and turned off the water. More time slipped by as she stood in the cold air, shivering. Naked. Alone.
Always fucking alone.
Eventually, River stepped out of the shower. She wrapped a towel around herself and ran a brush through her wet hair, shivering through it all. The cold had wormed its way into her bones and settled there, preparing to remain there for an extended period.
Even the cream-colored wool sweater and leggings that she found on her bed weren’t enough to shake off the cold. Brynleigh must’ve dropped them off. River added a thick pair of black socks, rolling them up to her calves, and braided her wet hair with shaking fingers.
River didn’t complain, not even in her mind, when a chill wracked her body from head to toe. This was her punishment.
Eliza Fern, River’s therapist, might’ve had something to say about this, but River didn’t want to think about therapy or mantras or talking about her pain. Not right now, not so soon after breaking. Maybe not ever again.
That was the thing about being broken.
Being this way was excruciating. All of River was hurting, right down to her soul.
But sometimes, being broken was easier than trying to pick up the pieces.
Healing wasn’t easy or painless. This, River knew from experience.
Repairing herself after the Incident had almost killed her, and she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to do it again.
Yes, the clouds were heavy….
But shoving them aside felt like the most arduous of tasks.
Eventually, River’s stomach rumbled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She opened the door, wrapping her arms around herself, and descended the stairs. She ignored the lingering chill in her bones as she rounded the corner.
Brynleigh was sitting at the island, typing on her laptop with her back to River. The moment River’s toe touched the kitchen tile, Brynleigh turned around. Her ponytail bobbed as she stood, gliding over to River on vampire-silent feet.
“Hey, River.” The corners of her eyes crinkled.
“Hi.” The act of forming the simple word was far more difficult than it should’ve been.
“I’d say good morning, but I’m afraid the time for that has long since passed.” Brynleigh wrapped an arm around River’s shoulders, leading her towards one of the vacant stools. “Did you sleep well?”
River slid onto the seat, hooking her feet in the lower rung and drawing her bottom lip through her teeth. Her lip ring was a cool, grounding force, and the slight sting of pain that came from tugging on it was welcome.
“I… slept,” she replied eventually.
Brynleigh’s black gaze swept over her, and River got the impression that her sister-in-law heard the words she hadn’t said out loud.
No, I didn’t sleep well, because nightmares were haunting me.
No, I didn’t sleep well, because I’m empty inside.
No, I didn’t sleep well because I realized I needed to keep my distance from Nikhail, and just thinking about him makes my heart feel like it’s splitting in two.
Just... no.
A long moment passed. “We’re glad you’re staying here with us, River. You should know, Ryker was so worried about you. We both were.” Brynleigh’s hand covered River’s. “You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.”
River tried to smile, but judging by the pained expression that crossed her sister-in-law’s face, she didn’t quite achieve that.
There was a shuffling sound, then nails clicked on the tile as Marlowe rounded the corner.
The dog was massive, more bear than canine, and his head came up to River’s hip when she was standing.
She leaned over and scratched behind his ears.
“Is Ryker here?” she asked, looking around the kitchen expectantly.
The curtains were open, and sunlight filtered through the tinted windows, illuminating the space.
“Unfortunately, not.” Brynleigh petted Marlowe on the back before making her way to the fridge. Opening it, she sorted through the contents. “Ry went to Waterborn House first thing this morning to check on your mom before he headed to work. Couldn’t miss any more days, I’m afraid.”
That made sense. Not everyone’s life could stop, even though it felt like River’s had imploded.
Brynleigh placed a carton of eggs on the counter, next to a half-empty jug of orange juice and a clamshell of bright red cherry tomatoes.
“Can I make you something?” Brynleigh asked. “Before my Making, I always found a good breakfast helped, no matter the time of day.”
It was as if Brynleigh knew that the very thought of compiling ingredients into a dish was too much for River right now. Yes, she was hungry, but what was hunger in the face of everything else?
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I would appreciate that.”
She didn’t think she’d eat otherwise.
Brynleigh put a pan on the stove and added a cube of butter. “Just because I no longer eat doesn’t mean I’ve lost my appreciation for good food.”
The vampire methodically cracked two eggs into the pan and stirred them, breaking the yolks and scrambling them with the butter.
There was a peace to watching Brynleigh cook, a normalcy that should have soothed River. Maybe at another time, the domesticity would’ve brought River peace. The way Brynleigh moved was calm. Serene, even. She was imbued with a sense of joy that had been present for years, since the Reunion.
It was marvelous and normal and completely out of River’s reach. She could never have a life like this, happy and joyful. The light-sucking manacles she wore were proof of that.
The kitchen was quiet, save for the quiet sizzle of the pan and Marlowe’s occasional barks. He sat at the back door, watching as squirrels passed him by, taunting him with their freedom.
It wasn’t long before Brynleigh slid a plate in front of River. The eggs, a perfect soft scramble, were paired with a few juicy cherry tomatoes.
Brynleigh served River a cup of orange juice, placing it in front of her. She took a mug to the fridge and poured something into it before heating it up. River didn’t see the contents, but based on the iron scent tickling her nose, she could make an educated guess.