The panic, the distress, it was bittersweet on my tongue and I swallowed it down like honey.
Sitting alone in the darkened car. I was cold. So cold. I couldn’t feel my extremities. My toes were blocks of ice. I didn’t know how long I had been there only that I wasn’t supposed to move. Minutes. Hours maybe.
But I had to stay where I was. I was supposed to listen.
But I didn’t listen. I opened the door. I took a step out into the freezing night. Darkness pressed around me like a vise and I couldn’t breathe.
The blackness.
The emptiness.
I couldn’t remember.
Or couldn’t I?
I stared out of my living room window, waiting for him. For Elian. Hoping and dreading the moment when he’d pull up in front of my apartment. I was torn with twisted contradictions.
Loving and hating.
Soft and hard.
Relaxed and rigid.
I dug my fingers into the window sash, nails breaking against wood. Blood wet on my skin.
Remember.
As if I could forget…
Memories were fiends. They kept me trapped. They would set me free. But I didn’t trust the raging beast inside with the truth.
It devoured honesty. It lived on guile. It thrived on wicked deception.
My head ached as my mind reeled. Too much. Not enough. I wasn’t here.
I was there.
Always there…
The house sat off in the distance. A tomb…waiting. The grass, heavy with frost, scrapped my ankles. Wrapping harsh, unyielding hands around vulnerable flesh.
“Stay here, Layna.” His voice rang with clear intent only minutes earlier just before he left me alone. In the car. To wait. His stern words brooked no argument.
I never defied him. So why was I now throwing self-preservation to the wind?
The house beckoned.
The blackness.
The emptiness.
I couldn’t remember.
My head was heavy. And then I saw it. Headlights in the distance, and I knew it was him. Elian. My heartbeat became a waltz in my chest. Pitter. Patter. Rat-a-tat-tat.
I dug bloodied fingers into my palm. My nails tattered and ruined. Elian was almost here.
I was falling…
The car parked and I could see him outside the window in the cold, dark night. I knew Dancing Green Eyes, my Elian, was searching. Always searching.
For me.
But I wasn’t here. I was gone. Somewhere else.
Waiting..…
I approached the house and the first thing I noticed was the noise.
Scratching and clawing. Breathy, aching silence punctuated by frantic movements.
I grabbed the doorknob and froze, scared to go inside. Because when I did, everything would change. There would be no going back.
Scratch. Scratch. Groan.
The sounds were icepicks to my eardrums.
The blackness.
The emptiness.
I couldn’t remember.
I couldn’t forget.
I watched Elian get out of his car and for the briefest of moments I smiled. True and genuine. My heart wanted to dance right out of my chest and into his arms.
Remember.
I can’t forget.
My bloodied fingers, curled into fists, and smashed through the window. Glass splintering. Raining on my feet. Pain. Agony. Relief.
And all I saw was the blood.
Always the blood.
Elian looked up at the noise. The shattering glass echoing in the air.
I was a little girl lost. And he was desperately searching for me. He didn’t realize that he should be terrified of finding what he was looking for.
Or did he?
I was beginning to think that Elian saw more than I wanted him to.
That he knew more.
My door opened and slammed shut. “Layna!”
Then he was there, beside me, taking my injured hand in his.
“What did you do?” he demanded. So stern. So worried.
Sticky, warm, drying on my skin. I pulled my hand away and held it against my chest. The blood smearing on my shirt, dripping on the floor.
“Let me look. You may need to go the hospital,” Elian exclaimed, taking my hand again. I let him this time.