Chapter Nineteen
The two weeks have almost passed and every night, a nightmare follows me into sleep.
Draven started sleeping in Ivorie’s room in order to be closer to me. Each night, I wake screaming in a blind panic at three in the morning. Him and multiple guards rush in each time, swords drawn and ready to fight an imaginary intruder.
My clavicle has made a full recovery and I do not have to wear a sling anymore. The bone rapidly stitched back together from bedrest. Elora says that my head is not completely done healing and that I still must wait until the end of the week to be cleared.
One would think a vampire would heal faster than two weeks, but what do I know.
On the bright side, the tonic she gave me for my anxiety seems to be helping some, but it has not been enough time for it to fully take effect.
I finally started to remember everything from that night. The events slowly come back to me throughout the day and also, throughout my nightmares. Although it is hard to distinguish between what is real and what is not.
I stopped eating for a while the first week, slowly losing the weight that I gained. I would pretend to drink the blood given to me each meal and just dump it down the sink.
Draven caught on to what I was doing eventually.
In attempt to make me start drinking it again, he resorted to bribing me with various things for my entertainment.
His briberies were simple things like him reading me books or playing board games with me.
Sometimes he would even tell me different stories of his childhood.
I gave in every time to hear those.
The king was notified that I was injured with a request attached to extend the date of the wedding due to time lost from my recovery.
He responded that he did not care, and no.
He also tried to assign me a new lady’s maid at some point this week as a get well soon present. I refused.
I do not want anyone to replace Ivorie.
Alone is what I am most days. Draven leaves during the day for his royal obligations he must fulfill. But I wake every morning with a jar of yellow roses next to my bedside from him and it makes me feel not so lonely.
He told me that we needed to take a break from working on the case so I can heal. What he does not understand is, everything that happened has just motivated me even more to find out who is behind all of this.
Still, without us on our normal routine of training and investigating, I feel myself slip back into old thoughts and habits.
Like the fact that I always did have a habit of repressing every bad thing that happens to me.
I did it with my parents’ death and I did it with Gracie’s.
I shove the trauma so far deep down, pretending it does not exist. My feelings follow along with it, as I mask my pain behind jokes and laughs.
Anything to convince the people around me that I am not drowning with no air left in my lungs.
Nothing left to give to myself, or anyone else.
The problem with the continuous ignorance of trauma and emotion is, eventually you realize that you have run out of room when you try to shove everything down some more. All it took was one more thing to make the pit of despair I have created, implode.
That one thing was Ivorie being taken.
Every suppressed feeling has risen to the surface as the days pass.
Like bubbles float up to the surface of a pond, the feelings rise quietly until they finally burst. With nowhere to run away to, and nothing to distract myself with, I am forced to sit within my own thoughts.
Trapped inside of my own head and the thoughts show no mercy.
I should have known they would catch up to me eventually. I do not know why I expected anything less. Nothing will change the impending outcome that will happen no matter how hard you try to run from it.
Trauma does not discriminate, even when you are immortal.
I step out of my second bubble bath for the day.
It seems that is the only thing readily available for me to do here.
I get changed into a new nightgown and start to brush my hair out.
Looking at myself in the mirror, my eyes look as hollow as I feel.
My irises are still red. In fact, over the past two weeks they have turned a darker red.
But maybe that is just because I have been paying more attention to them.
I step away from the mirror and get back into bed. My soaking wet hair drenches my pillow, but I do not care enough to do anything about it.
Heaviness pulls at my eyelids and sleep welcomes me like an old friend who was really an enemy.
? ? ?
I look down and see familiar bare, bloody feet running underneath me and the hem of a tattered white gown. My hands are covered in blood. Footsteps chase me from behind, but I do not stop.
Looking up, the familiar rise of the sun peeks over the distant tree line. Impending doom settles in as I realize that the sun is going to roast me alive.
My feet run faster under me in attempts to outrun the sun. There is nowhere to hide. I hear the footsteps behind me getting closer with each step I take.
I risk a glance over my shoulder, turning my head slightly. I just want to see who it is behind me.
My foot catches on something underneath of me and I go flying forward, landing on my stomach, hard. I roll over onto my back to brace whoever is coming for me, but I am too scared to look. I feel something cold and smooth in my hand, but I do not open my eyes to confirm what it is.
The person chasing me hovers above me breathing heavily.
I lunge forward with the object in my hand, thrashing it against them multiple times over and over again.
I open my eyes and see that I am holding a dagger lodged into someone’s chest. I slowly lift my gaze to their face and see that it is Ivorie.
My eyes close and I start screaming.
When I open them, the face that I see is Gracie’s.
Her lifeless eyes stare back into mine as her body slumps forward onto my own. The sun begins to rise faster than it naturally should. My skin begins to burn and blister.
I scream as I die.
I snap upright in bed, screaming at the top of my lungs. My scream dies out as my voice becomes hoarse. I desperately grab a hold of the sheets around me, panicking as I try to reorient myself to my surroundings.
The door to Ivorie’s old room opens and Draven comes running in. He rubs his sleepy eyes as he looks around, disoriented himself. When he finishes scanning the room, he comes over to the bed, sitting on the edge next to me. The guards do not even bother to come in this time.
He does this every night. He comes into bed and sits with me until I pretend to fall back asleep. I get up the next morning, pretending like it never happened.
But this time, I cannot do it any longer.
I look at him and the fragile walls I have built around myself, break. My tears start pouring out, like water bursting through a damn. Once they start, they do not stop and neither do the sobs that work their way out of my throat with each breath that I take.
Draven leans forward, pulling me into his lap as he strokes his hand up and down my back in a soothing rhythm.
“I am sick of this,” I sob.
“I know, little sun,” he says.
“I blamed her for it all.”
My words come out choked and strangled.
“She will never get to say goodbye to her dad. He is going to die and she will not even be able to tell him that she loves him before he goes.” The words come spilling out of my mouth as tears continue to stream down my face.
But these words are not truly about Ivorie.
Draven hugs me tighter to him.
“I do not want to be in this room anymore. I do not want to be here anymore,” I say.
Without a second thought, Draven scoops me up from the bed and walks out of my bedroom. The walls around us start moving past us in a blur.
When we stop, he sets me down in another bed.
In this bed, the sheets are dark green and the comforter is brown. He tucks me under the sheets, the smell of leather and smoked vanilla wrapping around me, feeling familiar and safe.
? ? ?
I wake up, unaware of my surroundings at first. But when I sit up and look around, I see that I am in Draven’s room, in Draven’s bed. I turn toward the sitting area and see Draven lying on the couch, sleeping.
He brought me here after the nightmare that seemed to be my breaking point. Last night was the longest I have slept in days.
The longest we have both slept.
I slip out of bed quietly and walk over to the sitting area, sitting down in one of the chairs across from the couch. I look at the clock on the mantle, it is eight in the morning.
I look at Draven and watch his chest rise and fall with his steady breaths.
He looks peaceful sleeping. His face is relaxed in a way I have never seen.
He usually has some form of hardness set to his features.
Now looking at him, he looks softer and his cheeks have a pink flush to them, bringing youth to his face.
I catch myself staring at him for longer than I anticipated.
His breathing quickens.
“You know it is rude to watch people when they sleep,” he says.
My eyes drop down to his lips and I watch them move as he speaks, his eyes still closed.
My own cheeks flush and I clear my throat. “You just look so peaceful when you sleep. I am jealous of it.”
He opens his eyes up, looking at me. Golden, like suns of their own.His mouth lifts up in a smirk as he sits up. He stretches his arms above his head, his shirt raising up, showing some of his abdomen. My eyes start to travel to it, but I immediately look away.
“You were able to sleep,” he says.
I smile. “Yes, I did. Longer than I have in a while actually.”
“You can stay here as long as you like, if it helps.”
I nod. “Thank you. I am sorry you had to sleep on a couch.”
“It is no trouble.”