3. Summer
Chapter Three
Summer
“ L ittle fae.” His voice echoes around me, a voice I have grown so used to, a voice I once found comfort in. A voice I once found sexy. The voice that left me time and again. The voice I once trusted.
The ground shakes beneath me. Everything is black behind the blindfold, and those two little words make my body so tense I feel like I will break with every breath. The sound of falling rocks echoes through the cave as the ground continues to quake, everything becoming more unstable.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” the voice asks, a little closer this time, as if he is crouching next to me.
The blindfold is yanked from my face, and Aqua’s blurred form flies at me, her dagger plunging into my stomach.
An unsteady gasp leaves my lips, phantom pain radiating through me, but I am distracted by that voice again, the sense of his presence.
Where is he? Is he no longer here? Was this another part of the dream?
Another part of the torture? Why is tonight different?
A scream rips from Aqua’s throat, and the blade is pulled from me with such force that I groan. I watch in shock as Aqua’s body is tossed away from me with such violence that her body slams against the far wall of the cave.
“Get up,” the voice beside me growls.
I cough wetly, blood bubbling from my lips. I am too weak to move, but I am also ignoring him, trying to will him away. This is just part of the dream, another way my mind punishes me.
Aqua fades from my view, and then her maniacal laugh sounds from behind me, sending an icy chill down my spine. The sensation is made even worse by the lingering warmth of his voice.
I prepare for the pain, for the blade as it pierces my skin, knowing it will be nothing compared to my shattered heart.
The dream continues to quake, and my body prepares for the impact, almost looking forward to it.
The physical pain has nothing on the emotional devastation that plagues me every fucking second.
But nothing comes. The ground splits, and suddenly, the dream is gone.
I blink, lifting my wrists, noticing that I’m no longer tethered to the old, worn chair.
I flex my ankles, which are also free, and look around the space.
It is dark, but it’s not impenetrable. It’s a blank dream-scape just waiting for me to paint on it.
“Why do this to yourself?” he asks. The dream shifts again, and suddenly I’m standing. I feel his large body behind me, heat radiating off him. I stand there unmoving, every muscle tense and ready to run, but to where?
His hand brushes against my forearm, and that’s when it strikes me.
He is not part of my dream. He is an invader, and that thought ignites something inside me.
I snarl and whirl on him. My anger surges, and it is blissful, burning through the pain as if it were kindling, leaving only unfiltered fury in its wake. Finally.
“What did you do?” I snarl again at his blurred form.
“This is your dream. I simply altered it,” he hisses back, anger lining his voice.
I turn away from him, looking around. This is my dream. This is my dream. Take control. He will not force me from my dream.
My wrists and ankles start to chafe as I rebuild the dream. I need to relive this. I need to feel the pain, the agony.
The cave has barely been reconstructed when it is shattered once again. “You torture yourself,” he growls into my ear.
Yes, because I deserve it.
I try to rebuild the dream, but exhaustion tugs at me. I didn’t realize that building this dream took so much of me every night. With exhaustion, the anger completely dissipates. It’s barely a flicker of an ember now, and the sadness seeps back in, drowning me.
“Get out,” I whisper, hating how broken my pleading sounds, and I long for that fire back.
“Stop pretending to be weak,” he snarls viciously .
I close my eyes and focus on the dream again. When I open my eyes, it’s fractured and broken, but the scene starts playing out again.
“Get out,” I repeat, watching Connor appear at the mouth of the cave. The familiar panic sets in at the sight of his handsome face shrouded by the darkness of the cave.
“Fight.”
Aqua’s laugh is haunting, echoing around us.
“Fight!” the intruder demands again, his tone fierce.
Aqua appears behind Connor, and the wet, sickly sound plunges directly into my heart as she stabs him. His scream shatters my soul, and I choke back a sob.
He grabs my jaw and yanks my face toward his. It’s the first time in months that I’ve seen his featureless face, his large body looming over me.
“Fight,” the stranger hisses at me.
I close my eyes, leaning into the pain, even pushing my face into his grip a little.
“Did you even love him?” the stranger asks, venom lacing his words.
“Get out.”
I feel a blade piercing my back, right into my spine, and my legs go numb. Once again, Aqua is thrown back against the wall, and the stranger snakes his free hand around my back, holding me easily. I feel him painting a rune on my skin, and the pain fades.
“You will not harm yourself with me. I will not allow it.” He pulls me closer, his powerful body pressed against mine, but all I feel is despair.
Do I long to feel hatred? Perhaps. But as I’ve just realized, the anger burns bright and fast, and the second it is ousted, the absence of the fire is so much more noticeable, leaving only the hollowness of devastation.
I shove away from him. “Get away from me,” I growl, but even I know it sounds pathetic. He releases me, but I know if he hadn’t allowed it, I wouldn’t have been able to escape him.
“Fight,” he says once more, and this time, instead of trying to rebuild the dream, instead of even fighting back against him, I wake up.
Tiredness claws at me, and my face is wet from the tears spilled in my sleep.
The entire room is cloaked in darkness, with the only light coming from the silvery moon. I glance at Alice, who is sleeping peacefully next to me. She needs it too. She hasn’t been sleeping either. As if she can hear my thoughts, she curls into me more, trying to provide comfort even in sleep.
I don’t want comfort. I don’t deserve it.
I don’t deserve happiness. I don’t deserve love or light.
I deserve to be lonely. I should never have come here. Connor would still be alive if I had never come here. He would have married a pretty angel with white wings. He would have his own Legion.
It’s my fault.
It should have been me.
I should have let Torin find me.
I should have died.
I climb out of bed and go downstairs to look for a distraction. Something catches my eye from the window, and I walk to it, looking out at the porch. For the first time in a very, very long time, I feel his eyes on me.