Chapter 16 - Hyacinth
I bolt down the hall and tear into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Crawling onto the little camp bed, I wrap the blankets around me as if I could protect myself from all the evils in the world if I just bind them tight enough.
It wouldn’t be so bad—if I didn’t feel such a spark between us.
Tears well in my eyes, and I shake my head, denying my past and every foreseeable future with Shane.
I was safe. I was so safe. Why did this have to happen?
I’ve been fighting the memories from my last relationship, even as they started to leak through into my current reality. But now, the gates open, and every past moment crashes through my brain.
The night I met Dan, I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. His cool blue eyes shone like chips of arctic ice, especially when he looked at me. I learned soon enough that the glow about him when he was with me had nothing to do with love—only power.
I couldn’t believe he was interested in me. It seemed impossible that a man like that would even look in my direction.
I worked nights in a little café where I also did most of the baking. Dan started coming in late, and I gossiped with the other waitresses about how hot he was. When he started requesting me to serve him, I was almost overwhelmed with excitement.
Or anxiety? Hard to tell.
When he began to flirt with me, I kept passing it off as something else and talked myself out of it.
Until one night, he took my hand.
The touch of his skin was electric, and the way his eyes slanted towards me made my heart race. He had a cute little way of tilting his head so his black hair fell across his forehead, making me want to reach out and sweep it away.
The night he touched my hand, he told me how much he wanted me. Right there in the café. It was the most thrilling and romantic thing that had ever happened to me.
I roll over to my side and tighten the blankets around my body, begging my memory not to show me the rest. But the floodgates are open, and there’s no stopping it now.
Dan asked me to finish my shift early, claiming he wanted to show me something. I told the boss I was going without a second thought, feeling rebellious and wild. Dan took me for a walk in the park and started kissing me. When I asked what he wanted to show me, he stuck my hand down his pants.
I remember the unsettling mix of fear and excitement that rushed through me then. I wasn’t comfortable, but I didn’t dare say no to him. What if he doesn’t like me anymore?
So, I let him fuck me, right there in the park. I know now it was really fear, but at the time, I thought it was the most exciting sex I’d ever had.
Afterward, he left me in the park and told me he’d call. I was shaken and fragile, expecting him to vanish without a trace. But the next night, he was in the diner again—same table, same order—but this time, glaring at me with a cold, predatory stare.
And I thought it was passion. Hyacinth, you fucking fool.
He asked me to leave early again, so I did. The boss wasn’t happy, but I didn’t care. This time, Dan took me out for ice cream, and I thought it would be a normal date.
Until he took me out back and threw me up against the wall…
We didn’t have sex, but he felt me up while kissing me with an almost violent intent. I’d never felt so desirable, and the way he talked to me made me feel powerful, sexy, and in control.
This pattern kept up for about a week, and I ended up having sex with Dan in all sorts of strange places. He said it was his kink, and if I wanted to please him, I had to go along with it. Even though I wasn’t comfortable with it, I was having too much fun to care.
And I trusted him.
Dan interfered with my life so much that I lost my job. I lived week to week on that money, so the moment I lost my job, I couldn’t pay rent, either. When Dan said he’d take care of me, it was like being rescued by a white knight.
The first week was wonderful, and I thought cooking and cleaning for Dan were a small price to pay to be with him. His apartment was small but nice, and he worked part-time at a loading dock, meaning he sometimes kept strange hours.
Soon, things began to change. He’d disappear for hours, and if the house wasn’t cleaned and dinner cooked when he got back, he’d verbally abuse me.
Once I started to cry, he’d apologize, taking me in his arms and soothing me.
Those soft, comforting touches quickly turned sexual, and I couldn’t help it—it turned me on.
I gave in to him over and over again, chasing that high that only he could give me.
He began to spend less time at home. Sometimes he came back smelling of perfume. If I asked any questions, he shouted at me until I cried, then seduced me immediately after.
I kept telling myself I just had to love him more. I just had to accept him as he was. Then we could be happy.
I was with Dan for almost a year, and my self-worth had almost completely eroded by the end. I felt like the only thing I was useful for was sexually pleasing him—and only then was I safe.
I was pretty sure he was cheating, but had no way of finding out it was true—or even what I’d do if it was. I stopped caring about the apartment, about my clothes or my body, and just let myself waste away.
Then, one night, he took me far more brutally than before. Sex with him had always been rough, but this time it truly hurt, and he didn’t care. He told me I was now completely useless, good for nothing, and I deserved to be punished.
Over the next week, it got worse. In the long hours he was away, I fantasized about leaving, but I was afraid of what would happen if he caught me.
I made no conscious decision to leave. I was simply taking the trash out, but then I stood in the back alley for a long time, staring at the cars passing by. When I walked to the corner, I barely noticed when a small truck pulled up beside me.
A kindly old man doing deliveries asked if I needed to go somewhere, and I just got in the truck. I had no money, no clothes, no ID, but I just didn’t care. I wasn’t even scared of being alone with a strange man.
After Dan, there was nothing worse anyone could do to me.
The old man took me to a women’s shelter and gave me a bit of cash he had on him. He knew I was in desperate trouble and wanted to help—an extremely rare, kind soul.
The shelter took me in, and over the next week, I found my strength again.
The women helped me relocate, and I was able to get back my original identity documents and change my name.
To my surprise, an old investment I’d made years ago had paid out a decent return, and I considered this a sign that my life was turning around.
I bought the bakery and moved to Silver Valley, determined to forget about Dan. And life was perfect.
Until Shane fucking kidnapped me!
I try to hold my tears in again, but I can’t, and I end up sobbing into the pillow. The one thing I’ve been scared of more than anything else is that I’m cursed, and my current situation with Shane is only proof of it.
But the wolves are cursed. Am I bringing my own curse here? Are they designed to cancel each other out?
Everything I’ve learned about witchcraft and folk history stirs in my mind, but I’m too tired and upset to think about it now. I’ve finally opened up the old wound and let myself feel the true horror of my past—and I’ve realized why I can’t give in to Shane.
Being with him feels good. That’s the problem. I feel happy and free, as if all my problems are being solved. This is exactly how I felt before—and it’s the worst danger I could ever be in.
Cold fury pierces through my heart, making the pain of my memories fade. I embrace it, encouraging myself to turn my feelings for Shane from lust to something much darker.
It’s right to hate him for what he did. Falling into his lap is the stupidest, least rational thing I could do!
Even though I’m still crying, my muscles slowly begin to relax. I stretch out under the blanket, listening carefully to my body.
Okay. I’m attracted to him. That’s fine. But I’m NOT sleeping with him, no matter how good it feels. I will not make that mistake again!
Exhaustion slowly creeps over me, and I relax into it, hoping that when I wake, the terrible memories will be far away and I can avoid falling into the same trap that snared me last time.
***
When I wake, I’m still tightly bound in the blanket, but my muscles aren’t cramped.
For the first time in days, I feel truly refreshed.
I go straight to the bathroom to shower and change, coming into the kitchen feeling like a new woman.
I’m about to make coffee when I notice Shane sitting at the table and almost jump out of my skin.
He doesn’t seem to notice me, just keeps his head in his hands, staring down at nothing.
Did he sleep last night?
“Shane?” I call softly.
He blinks, shaking his head a little as he looks up at me. “Hyacinth. Hi. I mean, good morning.”
“Did you sleep last night?” I ask, feeling compassion for him rising in my chest even as I try to balance it with resentment.
I’m not giving in and forgiving him just because he’s not well. I can’t let my guard down.
“Yes,” he says hoarsely. “But not much. I just gave up after a while. I’ve just been sitting here thinking.”
“About what?”
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “Everything.”
He’s completely spaced out.
“Well, I want to get a move on,” I say. “I have to go to work today.”
“No,” Shane replies, a bit of force edging into his voice. “I need you here.”
It sounds so much like how Dan used to speak to me that anger blooms in my chest. I put my hands on my hips and stride over to him, waiting for him to raise his head so I can glare at him.
“We discussed this before. You have to give me some freedom. I’ll just be at the bakery. You can come and check on me anytime, and I’ll come back here tonight—then we can hopefully talk about the curse and how to break it.”
“But we should go to the manor,” he says. “Or the infirmary. We can’t just go about our lives as if nothing is happening. People are dying!”
“And if we go straight to the infirmary or the manor, can we stop them from dying?”
“No,” he admits.
“Okay. Then I need to check in on my business, and you need to get some sleep. You aren’t going to be much good to anyone in the state you’re in.”
Shane looks up at me like he wants to protest, but eventually just shakes his head.
“I literally can’t think straight,” he says. “Maybe you’re right. You can take my car, if you want.”
“No, that’s okay,” I answer. “You might need it. I’ll just get Trina to pick me up.”
“Okay,” he mutters, putting his head back in his hands.
He really looks bad.
My resentment melts, just a little, overtaken by concern for him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask. “Maybe you should go to the infirmary.”
“No,” he says instantly. “I’m not that sick. I don’t want them worrying about me, either. It’s like you said—I just need some sleep. Don’t worry about me.”
Worry grows in me despite his words. The only thing that gives me the courage to leave is my resolve to remain objective about the situation and not give in to him for any reason.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll see you later, then.”
He doesn’t answer or raise his head, just waves. I feel a strong urge to go to him, to help him into bed and spend the day caring for him. But it reminds me so much of what I felt for Dan, I recoil from that idea.
I turn around and leave before I can make any stupid mistakes, and while I’m waiting for Trina, I try to congratulate myself for staying strong and not falling into another bad situationship.
If that’s true, then why do I feel so lost?