39. Living my Nightmare #2
He draws closer, not taking his eyes off me for a second. The vein in his neck builds around the blood drying there. Ethan can heal himself, yet he isn’t. Instead, he uses his pain as fuel.
“Or what, Kyra?” He flicks a wrist, tracing golden sigils along my walls, locking us in. He wants an all-out fight. “If you require it, come get it.” Releasing his aura’s hold on me, he places her gift inside his sweatpants’ pocket. Then he manifests a spear.
It’s an invitation I would accept normally, but not under these circumstances.
Dissolving my metal blades, I approach, keeping one of my creations out of sight.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I plead, searching his golden-red eyes for any trace of an explanation.
“If there’s no way around this conversation, so be it.
But you’re holding hostage the one thing I have left from the most important person to me. ”
“Now you plead to converse after rejecting my offer. More tricks from your mother.” He scowls.
“You keep bringing her up like she’s done anything for me. You can’t imagine what my life was like before coming here. For someone who claims to have all the answers, it appears you don’t. If you want them, ask the fucking questions and give me back my bracelet. ”
He watches me, not speaking but not making a move either.
“Fine, I’ll start. Rosie is–was my best friend. She saved me from drowning in a life that pulled me under its viscous tide of torture and agony. My life raft,” I choke, reminiscing. But I refrain from crying, fighting my tears back.
“Saved, how?”
“She found me dying in the memories of my past. She was a fucking kind soul, better than anyone I could’ve deserved.
She appeared out of nowhere with a voice so consuming I knew being around her I’d be safe.
” I trail off, having failed at holding my emotions back.
But not once did my gaze turn away. He wants my pain; here it is.
Memories resurface as more anguish lays my soul bare. I miss her so damn much. Being here without her, yet because of her–these feelings are like blades to my chest. When I force them back down, it’s like losing Rosie all over again.
“What’s her surname?”
“Why does that matter?” I ask, wiping my cheeks, yet he remains silent. *Sigh* “Cirlek, Rosie Cirlek.”
“Her…” He swallows, using his spear to keep balance as he grips it tighter. “Her favorite flower, what was it?”
A li…lily. I gasp, taking a step back. Rosie Cirlek. C. I. No, start at the back, K. E. L. R. I. Oh my God, how did I not put it together after seeing their files.
“What!” he begs. “What realization did you deduce!” Slamming his spear into the polished floor, he hides the cracking of his voice.
I reduce my tone, mouthing on a whisper, “Lily. Her favorite flower was a lily.” The very same I placed on her casket. Ethan stalks over, dragging his weapon’s tip along my floor, wearing nothing short of hatred along his features. But I can’t move. This realization doesn’t make sense.
Reaching inside his other pocket, he hands over a slightly burned photo with four kids.
A boy who appears to be older than all of them but not by much, with a delightful smile, draws my attention first. This part of the photo is burned, I’m sure by the lightening attack, so it’s hard getting more of his likeness.
Next, a younger version of Alex, whose hair was parted by the tips of his elvish ears. Ethan, much smaller than he is now, scowling and tucking a lock of hair behind… his ears. Glancing up, I notice they’re not the same. I peer down, seeing the last fay. A little girl with a likeness of…Rosie.
Above them are each of their names, and I home in on his sister’s. ‘Liliane Kelric.’ But there is a wobbly slash through the ‘iane,’ replaced by a ‘y,’ That’s adorable. My heart skips as I feel his loss of her beautiful soul.
“What do you see?” he asks, and I sense the muscles in his throat are burned raw.
“Look at her wrist.” Pulling the photo closer, I see it.
A bracelet identical to mine. Different shapes are etched into its metal, but it’s unmistakable.
But how’d he know this was in my room? He had to have been in here after I received it.
“I–I don’t know what this means, how is–”
Choking, my hands wrap around Ethans arm. His fingers dig into my throat as he drives me back, severing the oxygen from my lungs.
“Enough talking. I’m done playing you and your mother’s game.” My back collides with the wall, banging my head. “She sent you to kill her, didn’t she?” he growls with a promise of death, banging me once more into the wall.
I dig into his arm, using enough force to draw blood, but he endures without flinching, tightening his hold. “I–I–” My aura reaches for the crystal blade, but nothing returns. At some point, when I was glancing at his photo, it dissolved. Being too wrapped up, I didn’t notice its energy returning.
My vision is speckled with shades of black. The corners are darkening as my ears thud from the nearest vein. Ethan’s arm becomes slick with blood, but my nails continue digging in, forcing him to let go.
“I don’t care how the two of you did it; once you’re out my way, your mother’s next.” This isn’t a threat, nor a promise. It’s his conviction.
Shimmers of gold catch what little vision I have before he slams my head against the wall in two successful strikes, and my hands fall. My legs are limp from lack of oxygen, and my body jerks, searching for any source my lungs can inhale.
On instinct, magic pools over my palms, and its warmth mixes with Ethan’s blood, creating a dagger.
I thrust it up into his ribs, slicing flesh and shattering bone, as a sharp pinch spreads along my stomach.
He releases his hold and instead, places his blood stained palm against the wall beside my head.
Within my stomach lies the full tip of his spear.
I splutter crimson liquid, glancing up and noticing an equal amount leaking from his lips.
Heaving between breaths, I feel air fill my lungs, but it’s painless.
His strike was clean, unlike mine. Yet nothing says he feels it as his golden red eyes stare into my hazel tones.
Embers of fading flames light a sea of painful reds. Tears line his lashes, and my own became heavy.
He’s beautiful.
I choke, turning my head down, allowing more blood to fling clear from my throat.
Why…isn’t…he healing? “You–said, you’d–die–for me.
” I cough between words. Instead of responding, Ethan places his head against mine, gripping the spear and yanking it out.
“Fuck!” I wail. My legs buckle, but he is there to guide me down, holding me whilst removing my own weapon from his ribs.
Heat spreads around the wound, entering my stomach, and dances amongst the aura I feel growing. Sensing nothing and everything all at once. More coughing restricts my lungs from inhaling, but I fight, gripping his arm and enduring, noting his fingers clasping around mine as I lie within his lap.
We’re both losing blood, and at any moment…
“This will not stand,” a voice echoes within my mind. It’s not Ethan’s nor the whispering tone of Blaise, and before I can try making sense of who said it, pressure once again hits me full on .
Energy squeezes around my bones, pouring into my aura, and sends a frigid warmth spreading throughout. The light fades, and my head falls back. A weight lifts from my shoulders as darkness consumes me, and my heart ceases its beating.
I gasp, swallowing a lung full of air through the pain of this immense torture. Something heavy sits within my arms, and the dread of knowing what happened, forces me to swallow. As light clears the fog, I see myself lying within Ethan’s lap, stained in blood. FUCK!
Blinking, I call, “Ethan? Can–Can you hear me?” No, no, no. Not him. This can’t happen. I’ll accept death over this. Anything but this. “Ethan.” Twice today the Book of Bonds has commanded my sight. But earlier it wasn’t Ethan. It couldn’t have been.
Another blink and I’m back inside my body, hunched to the side and coughing.
Turning back, I see the wrinkle along his brow tattle that it happened to him too.
Fuck. I prepare to speak, but another force tugs at my aura, pulling me closer to him as gold and red energy springs from our bodies, rotating around us in a sparkling dome.
“What are you doing?” he asks, following the lights.
“This isn’t me. You’re doing this.” I try moving away from him when the pull of our auras lifts us into a standing position. The wound in my stomach heals, mending skin in a seamless line, and his mirrors mine. What the hell.
I feel pain, sorrow, regret, lust, love, and so much more. But they’re not my emotions. Snapping up at him, I meet those sparkling embers once more. Fear trembles his lips before miniature lines spread beneath his eyes. Dark, spider-like veins.
“You will never speak of this,” Ethan commands, before vanishing into a golden sigil along with the ethereal energy.
Dropping upon the floor out of peer shock, I gasp, panting from the otherworldly event.
Confused, I see the bracelet sitting at my legs beside the turned photo from his childhood.
I stare at the words written, knowing whatever happens from here forward that the vampire set on killing me is my eternal bond. Fuck .
Hey, big brother. I heard you got in trouble again for fighting.
But I want to thank you because I know you were only protecting me from those mean boys at school.
I know they say bad things about me, and mommy feels I should fight my own battles.
Maybe you can teach me to be as strong as you when you return.
It’s been lonely here. Lexi won’t play hide and seek with me, but insists we read together.
He has soooo many books. Yesterday, he let me color the pictures in one of them.
I think I ruined it, but he didn’t mind.
Here’s a flower I drew while he read a story to me after.
Maybe in my next life, I could come back as a rose. No one hates roses.
I miss you. See you in three days.
XOXO Lily (Rose)