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Cameron was shocked at the fact that they considered her opinion to be of any importance; Omega must have genuinely been how Justin had described them, not just some 'do-gooder' front they put on for the masses.
“I, um,” she cleared her throat, feeling the glare from the rest of those in the room, “I can’t pretend to understand their motives behind it. They could truly want to merge to increase population, add more to the gene pool, and continue to thrive. Or, it could be something more sinister than that. I really don’t know. But, I think with the circumstances we’ve been presented with, it may be our only option. We should keep our guard up though, in my opinion, until we get a better feel for what they are wanting from us.”
Cameron looked around the room to try to read the faces that were intently listening to her. She couldn’t.
“They did treat us kindly, though. I did not see anything alarming or suspicious while we stayed there. I don’t think they’re used to running into anyone other than the savages that live up north, which we would need to be extremely careful of.”
She looked over to Justin and smiled faintly. His positive outlook was definitely starting to rub off on her; she never gave anyone the benefit of the doubt anymore, especially after what she had gone through at Chesapeake, but now she was ready to move a group of people into a civilization she didn’t know much about. Maybe it was positivity, maybe it was stupidity.
“I think we should do it. I, um, I will need a new knife though. Mine unfortunately stayed up north with the camp that took us prisoner.”
Cameron breathed a sigh of relief to finally have said her part and have the spotlight taken off of her. Everyone surrounding her seemed so wise. Even Justin, although he wasn’t much older than her. It was a bit intimidating to say the least.
The council decided to sleep on the decision, which was understandable, since whatever path they took would have a severe impact on Omega.
A moment after they had stepped out of the meeting, a woman led Cameron to a small room for her to retire in, complete with a small bed, a cabinet, and a wooden chair. Once the door had closed behind her, she wasted no time to get into bed, setting her clothes and boots on the chair and climbing under a thick blanket. Exhaustion was constant so far from all the extensive travelling, but she wasn’t complaining; it was better than being dead with the rest of Chesapeake or being cooked and eaten by savages. Plus, along with Omega taking her in, she made a friend. A good, selfless friend.
She sighed before wiggling her body into a sort of fetal position and falling asleep. But the deep sleep didn’t last long, and her eyes soon fluttered open to stare into the dark room. After a half an hour of tossing and turning, she decided to get up and talk to Justin. She didn’t really have a chance to see how he felt about the situation, and part of her desperately wanted to know where his head was at,seeing as he was one of the most level-headed people she had ever met.
She got dressed and slipped out of the room quietly into the dark quiet night, and after speaking to a guard or two, she found her way to Justin’s room and knocked lightly. “Hey, it’s me,” she whispered into the wooden door. “I’m coming in.” She entered the room quietly and sat on the chair in the corner. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about everything, and,” she shook her head. “What do you think they’re gonna do?”
“I, um,” she cleared her throat, feeling the glare from the rest of those in the room, “I can’t pretend to understand their motives behind it. They could truly want to merge to increase population, add more to the gene pool, and continue to thrive. Or, it could be something more sinister than that. I really don’t know. But, I think with the circumstances we’ve been presented with, it may be our only option. We should keep our guard up though, in my opinion, until we get a better feel for what they are wanting from us.”
Cameron looked around the room to try to read the faces that were intently listening to her. She couldn’t.
“They did treat us kindly, though. I did not see anything alarming or suspicious while we stayed there. I don’t think they’re used to running into anyone other than the savages that live up north, which we would need to be extremely careful of.”
She looked over to Justin and smiled faintly. His positive outlook was definitely starting to rub off on her; she never gave anyone the benefit of the doubt anymore, especially after what she had gone through at Chesapeake, but now she was ready to move a group of people into a civilization she didn’t know much about. Maybe it was positivity, maybe it was stupidity.
“I think we should do it. I, um, I will need a new knife though. Mine unfortunately stayed up north with the camp that took us prisoner.”
Cameron breathed a sigh of relief to finally have said her part and have the spotlight taken off of her. Everyone surrounding her seemed so wise. Even Justin, although he wasn’t much older than her. It was a bit intimidating to say the least.
The council decided to sleep on the decision, which was understandable, since whatever path they took would have a severe impact on Omega.
A moment after they had stepped out of the meeting, a woman led Cameron to a small room for her to retire in, complete with a small bed, a cabinet, and a wooden chair. Once the door had closed behind her, she wasted no time to get into bed, setting her clothes and boots on the chair and climbing under a thick blanket. Exhaustion was constant so far from all the extensive travelling, but she wasn’t complaining; it was better than being dead with the rest of Chesapeake or being cooked and eaten by savages. Plus, along with Omega taking her in, she made a friend. A good, selfless friend.
She sighed before wiggling her body into a sort of fetal position and falling asleep. But the deep sleep didn’t last long, and her eyes soon fluttered open to stare into the dark room. After a half an hour of tossing and turning, she decided to get up and talk to Justin. She didn’t really have a chance to see how he felt about the situation, and part of her desperately wanted to know where his head was at,seeing as he was one of the most level-headed people she had ever met.
She got dressed and slipped out of the room quietly into the dark quiet night, and after speaking to a guard or two, she found her way to Justin’s room and knocked lightly. “Hey, it’s me,” she whispered into the wooden door. “I’m coming in.” She entered the room quietly and sat on the chair in the corner. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about everything, and,” she shook her head. “What do you think they’re gonna do?”
Haha, I actually reaaaaallly enjoy being slammed at work. I'm just going through the whole "learning how to do what the hell they're making me do" part now -_- That's never fun. Hope you had a great weekend!
I apologize for the silence today! I am going to work on something for you tonight so that when you walk into work tomorrow, you have something from me! Thanks for your patience :-)
Hell? The Nazarite Order? It sounded as if it was straight from a book her father read to her as a child. She could think of a million questions for the man, but the stinging pain in her back and neck caused her to remain focused on the situation at hand.
The prisoner’s sentiment caused Amelia to feel two emotions: Relief - because she was left alive when she apparently should have been killed. Panic - because of the unknown reasoning as to why she was left alive. A day ago, she could not even fathom the existence of such entities, and yet now she was in a cell with a mysterious man demanding answers as to why she was attacked by a shadowy figured.
It was all very peculiar.
“I do not have the slightest inkling as to why I’m not dead,” she explained matter-of-factly to Tobias with a hint of annoyance behind her voice. “It tossed me across the room, fondled me, pinned me against the wall by my neck, then vanished.” Recounting the tale caused an involuntary shiver, and her voice weakened as she provided him with the next detail: “I could feel its warm breath on my skin as it whispered my name.” Embarrassed by her moment of frailty she used her strength to look at the man in the eyes, but only briefly as paranoia caused her to constantly scan the room for any shadows lurking in the corners.
The way Tobias looked – young, but wise in his demeanor, the brands that circled around on his abdomen, the rings in his hair – it was all very new, and it unquestionably sparked a curious flame in her.
“If you weren’t the one who killed Roger, then who – “
The cell door swung open with force. Antoine.
“I have been looking for you high and low. Word just came into the camp. The King is – “ Antoine paused when he noticed the fresh blood on her back and the marks on her neck. “Mon amour,” he whispered as his concerned eyes scanned her, but they quickly flashed in anger as he turned to the prisoner. “Did you do this to her?” He nearly screamed at the man as he began to approach him, but Amelia stepped in between them.
“No, no, he didn’t,” she admitted as she threw her hands up. “I was attacked by something while I was in bed. I came to ask him what it was.” Her eyes were wide and glaring with Antoine as a signal to put down his defenses. “I am fine.”
“Something, Amelia?” He asked quietly as his eyes locked on her neck once again. “What do you mean by ‘something?’”
“I could not see it. Just a shadow. It was strong a-and,” the lump in her throat grew which caused her voice to trail off. “What news did you come to tell me?”
Antoine’s eyes flicked from the prisoner back to hers, and after a sigh, he pulled her over to the opposite side of the room and nearly whispered: “The King is dead. They have not released the details.”
His words pierced straight through her sternum, taking her breath with them. She so badly wanted to kick and scream, to wrap up in a ball and sob. Her father was dead. Knowing she could not display the anguish she felt inside, she took a deep breath and nodded.
“I have to go inform the rest of the camp, and then everyone will be taking shifts for watch. Those who are free will be searching for his assassin. Are you coming with?” He asked as he held out a hand.
She shook her head. “Uh, no. I need to finish up here.”
He nodded. “Okay, then. I will come fetch you soon. I do not want you walking around here alone.” Antoine glared at Tobias. “Be careful, Amelia.”
Once he left the cell, Amelia once again approached Tobias, attempting to choke down the emotions so desperately attempting to pour out. “What would this attacker want from me? Could it be what killed…” she cleared her throat, “the King?” In reality, she probably was not ready for all the information she’d receive from asking questions, but before being able to redirect the conversation, it happened again.
The feeling.
“It’s,” she whispered as she placed a hand to her neck, “It’s back. It’s in here.” Her body made a full turn as she frantically looked around the small room.
”Clara.”
Without a moment to process the voice, Amelia’s body was flung back in corner of the brick room, and she grunted on impact until the pressure on her throat allowed no sound to escape her. She dangled two feet from the floor as she shot a desperate look to Tobias.
The door swung open to reveal Antoine, his eyes bulging as his mind pieced together what he was witnessing. Amelia dropped to the floor clumsily before she leaned a hand on the wall to support herself while she dry-heaved towards the ground as she gripped her chest.
Antoine looked to the prisoner chained on the other side of the cell. “What in God’s name is happening?” In an attempt to comfort Amelia, he knelt down next to her put his hands on her shoulders. “Calm down, Amelia. Calm down.”
Once she finally caught her breath, she spoke sternly to Antoine. "We need to release him."
"Are you mad, Amelia? We do not know of what he can do. What if he is the one hurting you?" He scratched his head in confusion.
"He isn't."
"How do you know that for certain?"
"I don't." Amelia's stare, blurry from tears, landed on Tobias, who was still chained to the wall. "Antoine, I am going to go get the spare key."
She quickly escaped the room down the long, dark hallway until she reached a small room with a wooden table with parchment scattered across it. "Where is it, where is it," she continued to mumble to herself as she dug through drawers under the table. Her mind started to wander as she searched - Was she insane for letting this mysterious man out of his shackles? Yes, probably. But, in a strange, inexplicable way, he seemed trustworthy. For now.
The prisoner’s sentiment caused Amelia to feel two emotions: Relief - because she was left alive when she apparently should have been killed. Panic - because of the unknown reasoning as to why she was left alive. A day ago, she could not even fathom the existence of such entities, and yet now she was in a cell with a mysterious man demanding answers as to why she was attacked by a shadowy figured.
It was all very peculiar.
“I do not have the slightest inkling as to why I’m not dead,” she explained matter-of-factly to Tobias with a hint of annoyance behind her voice. “It tossed me across the room, fondled me, pinned me against the wall by my neck, then vanished.” Recounting the tale caused an involuntary shiver, and her voice weakened as she provided him with the next detail: “I could feel its warm breath on my skin as it whispered my name.” Embarrassed by her moment of frailty she used her strength to look at the man in the eyes, but only briefly as paranoia caused her to constantly scan the room for any shadows lurking in the corners.
The way Tobias looked – young, but wise in his demeanor, the brands that circled around on his abdomen, the rings in his hair – it was all very new, and it unquestionably sparked a curious flame in her.
“If you weren’t the one who killed Roger, then who – “
The cell door swung open with force. Antoine.
“I have been looking for you high and low. Word just came into the camp. The King is – “ Antoine paused when he noticed the fresh blood on her back and the marks on her neck. “Mon amour,” he whispered as his concerned eyes scanned her, but they quickly flashed in anger as he turned to the prisoner. “Did you do this to her?” He nearly screamed at the man as he began to approach him, but Amelia stepped in between them.
“No, no, he didn’t,” she admitted as she threw her hands up. “I was attacked by something while I was in bed. I came to ask him what it was.” Her eyes were wide and glaring with Antoine as a signal to put down his defenses. “I am fine.”
“Something, Amelia?” He asked quietly as his eyes locked on her neck once again. “What do you mean by ‘something?’”
“I could not see it. Just a shadow. It was strong a-and,” the lump in her throat grew which caused her voice to trail off. “What news did you come to tell me?”
Antoine’s eyes flicked from the prisoner back to hers, and after a sigh, he pulled her over to the opposite side of the room and nearly whispered: “The King is dead. They have not released the details.”
His words pierced straight through her sternum, taking her breath with them. She so badly wanted to kick and scream, to wrap up in a ball and sob. Her father was dead. Knowing she could not display the anguish she felt inside, she took a deep breath and nodded.
“I have to go inform the rest of the camp, and then everyone will be taking shifts for watch. Those who are free will be searching for his assassin. Are you coming with?” He asked as he held out a hand.
She shook her head. “Uh, no. I need to finish up here.”
He nodded. “Okay, then. I will come fetch you soon. I do not want you walking around here alone.” Antoine glared at Tobias. “Be careful, Amelia.”
Once he left the cell, Amelia once again approached Tobias, attempting to choke down the emotions so desperately attempting to pour out. “What would this attacker want from me? Could it be what killed…” she cleared her throat, “the King?” In reality, she probably was not ready for all the information she’d receive from asking questions, but before being able to redirect the conversation, it happened again.
The feeling.
“It’s,” she whispered as she placed a hand to her neck, “It’s back. It’s in here.” Her body made a full turn as she frantically looked around the small room.
”Clara.”
Without a moment to process the voice, Amelia’s body was flung back in corner of the brick room, and she grunted on impact until the pressure on her throat allowed no sound to escape her. She dangled two feet from the floor as she shot a desperate look to Tobias.
The door swung open to reveal Antoine, his eyes bulging as his mind pieced together what he was witnessing. Amelia dropped to the floor clumsily before she leaned a hand on the wall to support herself while she dry-heaved towards the ground as she gripped her chest.
Antoine looked to the prisoner chained on the other side of the cell. “What in God’s name is happening?” In an attempt to comfort Amelia, he knelt down next to her put his hands on her shoulders. “Calm down, Amelia. Calm down.”
Once she finally caught her breath, she spoke sternly to Antoine. "We need to release him."
"Are you mad, Amelia? We do not know of what he can do. What if he is the one hurting you?" He scratched his head in confusion.
"He isn't."
"How do you know that for certain?"
"I don't." Amelia's stare, blurry from tears, landed on Tobias, who was still chained to the wall. "Antoine, I am going to go get the spare key."
She quickly escaped the room down the long, dark hallway until she reached a small room with a wooden table with parchment scattered across it. "Where is it, where is it," she continued to mumble to herself as she dug through drawers under the table. Her mind started to wander as she searched - Was she insane for letting this mysterious man out of his shackles? Yes, probably. But, in a strange, inexplicable way, he seemed trustworthy. For now.
Another article. Another mention of Jane’s name that had nothing to do with music. Another jab at her “image” – whatever the fuck that meant. She would, she figured, need to get used to it, because it wasn’t going away any time soon. Any publicity she received because of her position as singer would probably always coincide with her “wild” behavior.
Jane didn’t have much to say about it. A sigh, a nod, and a shrug. Although she’d have to get used to it, it still crushed her. “I hope what they say about me doesn’t bother you.”
When he said they wouldn’t be staying in, she felt a small tinge of sadness. Why? Logically, no reason. But in the realm of Jane, being upset over something and not being able to sweat her feelings away with someone was difficult for her to do. But, she agreed to his mystery plan and got ready to go.
Half an hour later, they pulled up to a large, triangular building that was glimmering in the afternoon sun. “Holy shit,” she whispered as her fingers touched the window of the car. The Rock N Roll Hall of Fame. A place she had always wanted to visit. Rob must have heard her talk about it a dozen times, and he remembered. He remembered. Jane turned her head to him and flashed a genuine smile. God, if they were the only two in the car, she’d jump on him right there, but instead, they thanked and tipped the driver.
The museum was huge – exhibit after exhibit of legends that she had always admired – and for the first hour, Jane and him explored the the entire building, yanking each other every direction when one of them saw something fascinating.
One they felt satisfied with what they saw, Jane looked up to Rob and pulled his head down so that she could whisper in his ear. “There was always something I wanted to do here.” Her lips lightly grazed his earlobe as she spoke, and before he could ask, she grabbed a hand and pulled him as she searched for something…
A utility closet. She jiggled the handle and got an adrenaline rush as the door creaked open, and the hand holding Rob’s guided him into the dark room with her. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jane jumped up into his arms just as she did in the elevator. She also talked to him in the same way. “Thank you… for… taking me here,” she whispered.
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“Fuck man, chill out,” Jane whined as the the security guard’s tight grip on her arm pushed her out towards the exit. “The Beatles don’t turn you on, too?” She struggled to not die of laughter until they were pushed outside of the entrance and released.
As soon as the disgruntled employees disappeared back into the building, the laughter started. “Ah, I’m sorry,” she said through a smile as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I can scratch it off the bucket list now.”
She was so amazed at the fun they were having together that it made her sad that it took seven years to get to this point. Why did it take her so long to realize her attraction to him? Why did it take him so long? Where would they be now if they had come to the same conclusion years ago? Questions like these drove her crazy. Or, crazier.
The past seven years felt like the first portion of their relationship during which normal couples get to know each other, have their fights, learn to deal with the quirks and annoying habits, except they weren't dating. It was something they were working through together - strengthing the bond between them - and they didn't even know it.
Or, to put in Jane's simpler terms, it was like seven years of foreplay.
The ride back to the hotel was quiet, but not with awkwardness; a sign of the level of comfortableness they felt with each other was that they never felt the need to fill the silence with pointless rambling or small talk. Jane’s head was in Rob’s lap with the rest of her body lining the backseat of the stranger’s car. She looked up to him sleepily and smiled, reaching up a hand to his face and grazing it lightly. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered up to him.
It was a question to which she expected no answer. She didn’t even know if it was an answer. All of the reasons she shunned any sort of romanticism in her life she was beginning to forget and let go of. Part of her hated it, having such a soft spot for him. The other part was enjoying herself thoroughly.
They arrived back at the hotel room, and Jane immediately dug around in the drawer in the night stand for a joint she had rolled earlier, lighting it and blowing the smoke out of the patio door. “I wanna nap,” she called out as the smoke shot out of her mouth. “Join me.”
Once they were both laying down, Jane rested her head on Rob’s chest and her hand on his stomach. “Thanks for today, Rob,” she whispered. “I really appreciate it.”
After listening to his heart beat for a few minutes, she was lulled to sleep with her face buried in his chest and her legs wrapped in his.
Jane didn’t have much to say about it. A sigh, a nod, and a shrug. Although she’d have to get used to it, it still crushed her. “I hope what they say about me doesn’t bother you.”
When he said they wouldn’t be staying in, she felt a small tinge of sadness. Why? Logically, no reason. But in the realm of Jane, being upset over something and not being able to sweat her feelings away with someone was difficult for her to do. But, she agreed to his mystery plan and got ready to go.
Half an hour later, they pulled up to a large, triangular building that was glimmering in the afternoon sun. “Holy shit,” she whispered as her fingers touched the window of the car. The Rock N Roll Hall of Fame. A place she had always wanted to visit. Rob must have heard her talk about it a dozen times, and he remembered. He remembered. Jane turned her head to him and flashed a genuine smile. God, if they were the only two in the car, she’d jump on him right there, but instead, they thanked and tipped the driver.
The museum was huge – exhibit after exhibit of legends that she had always admired – and for the first hour, Jane and him explored the the entire building, yanking each other every direction when one of them saw something fascinating.
One they felt satisfied with what they saw, Jane looked up to Rob and pulled his head down so that she could whisper in his ear. “There was always something I wanted to do here.” Her lips lightly grazed his earlobe as she spoke, and before he could ask, she grabbed a hand and pulled him as she searched for something…
A utility closet. She jiggled the handle and got an adrenaline rush as the door creaked open, and the hand holding Rob’s guided him into the dark room with her. As soon as the door closed behind them, Jane jumped up into his arms just as she did in the elevator. She also talked to him in the same way. “Thank you… for… taking me here,” she whispered.
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“Fuck man, chill out,” Jane whined as the the security guard’s tight grip on her arm pushed her out towards the exit. “The Beatles don’t turn you on, too?” She struggled to not die of laughter until they were pushed outside of the entrance and released.
As soon as the disgruntled employees disappeared back into the building, the laughter started. “Ah, I’m sorry,” she said through a smile as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I can scratch it off the bucket list now.”
She was so amazed at the fun they were having together that it made her sad that it took seven years to get to this point. Why did it take her so long to realize her attraction to him? Why did it take him so long? Where would they be now if they had come to the same conclusion years ago? Questions like these drove her crazy. Or, crazier.
The past seven years felt like the first portion of their relationship during which normal couples get to know each other, have their fights, learn to deal with the quirks and annoying habits, except they weren't dating. It was something they were working through together - strengthing the bond between them - and they didn't even know it.
Or, to put in Jane's simpler terms, it was like seven years of foreplay.
The ride back to the hotel was quiet, but not with awkwardness; a sign of the level of comfortableness they felt with each other was that they never felt the need to fill the silence with pointless rambling or small talk. Jane’s head was in Rob’s lap with the rest of her body lining the backseat of the stranger’s car. She looked up to him sleepily and smiled, reaching up a hand to his face and grazing it lightly. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered up to him.
It was a question to which she expected no answer. She didn’t even know if it was an answer. All of the reasons she shunned any sort of romanticism in her life she was beginning to forget and let go of. Part of her hated it, having such a soft spot for him. The other part was enjoying herself thoroughly.
They arrived back at the hotel room, and Jane immediately dug around in the drawer in the night stand for a joint she had rolled earlier, lighting it and blowing the smoke out of the patio door. “I wanna nap,” she called out as the smoke shot out of her mouth. “Join me.”
Once they were both laying down, Jane rested her head on Rob’s chest and her hand on his stomach. “Thanks for today, Rob,” she whispered. “I really appreciate it.”
After listening to his heart beat for a few minutes, she was lulled to sleep with her face buried in his chest and her legs wrapped in his.
Hmmm, I mean I was a barefoot, woods-roaming, wild child then, so I didn't get to do TOO much exploring. But, Stone Mountain and Kennesaw Mountain are both rad. World of Coca-Cola is cool. There are some awesome museums as well. The city is fun during the day time, but I'd be careful at night. :p Also, I'd go during fall. It's BEAUTIFUL!
I used to live in Woodstock, which back then, was a super small town, but now it's all developed :(
BTW - I will work on something hopefully before I leave the office today.
I used to live in Woodstock, which back then, was a super small town, but now it's all developed :(
BTW - I will work on something hopefully before I leave the office today.
”Exclusivity.”
It was what Jane had figured Rob would want from her, but somewhere deep inside of her, she needed to hear him request it of her due to bad habits of blaming plausible deniability in situations like this. That, and a true urge to figure out what was going on in his head. Although she wasn’t normally worried about such things as someone else’s feelings, especially while being distracted by such an amazing physical connection, she knew Rob deserved to be able to vocalize what he wanted from her as well. It was fair.
Jane hadn’t been in an exclusive relationship in over three years completely by choice. It wasn’t a total independence thing, though, like most people automatically assumed by her. She was jaded.
Ryan Miller. She had met him surfing when she was nineteen years old, and she was immediately infatuated by him. He was twenty-five at the time and was cut from the same cloth as Jane: the flippant attitude towards life itself, the connection to the beach and nature, constant partying and bad decisions. What started off as something so passionate and beautiful had turned dark over a course of a year, but the changes had been so little, slowly trickling in to her daily life that it was hard for her to see and consequentially accept.
It was simple things at first, like condemning her for the same things he was doing, like partying and being reckless. Then, came bouts of jealousy over Jane hanging out with friends who were male, especially Rob. Jane, at the beginning, tried to please him by not hanging out with Rob as much, but any time that she did, she knew there would be a fight waiting for her when she got home. Soon, Ryan became more controlling, attempting to monitor where she was, who she was with, what texts or calls were coming in on her phone, until eventually, he had reached a boiling point.
”Ryan, chill the fuck out!” Jane yelled as she backed into a corner. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Ryan scoffed. “I should’ve listened to my friends, man,” he shook his head as he slowly approached her. “I should’ve known getting with a slut like you would do this to me.”
“What the hell did I do?” At this point, Jane had lowered her voice, but remained on guard. “Please, just calm down.”
“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down, Jane. I’m sick of you telling me to calm down,” he replied as he got a few inches from her face.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face from him. “Get the fuck out of my face, Ryan. Please. I’m sorry, okay?”
Another scoff. “Yeah, I bet you are.” At that moment, the back of his hand struck the side of her face, and she immediately recognized the metallic taste in her mouth as blood, forming from a split lip.
“I’m fucking done. I’m fucking done. I’m fucking done,” Jane kept muttering to herself until Ryan had backed away from her, allowing her enough room to collect her things from his apartment and make her way to the beater she drove downstairs.
He followed her out to keep her from leaving. “I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”
Jane ignored him as she threw her things in the backseat and got into the car. “Move, Ryan!” she screamed through the glass at him as he stood in front of the car.
“No, Jane. Come on. Get out of the car.”
While still in park, Jane put her foot on the pedal and made the engine roar, causing him to jump out of the way and give her room to get out onto the road.
“Fuck you! You’ll come back, you’ll always come back,” he shouted at the car.
Jane stuck a middle finger out of the window as she drove away, and luckily this time, she never went back.
Jane had always remembered that day vividly, a constant reminder of what giving someone control of another can produce. But there was also another part of that day – when she immediately drove to Rob’s house after the fight. How, after begging him not to confront Ryan, he comforted her and made her feel okay again.
He had always been there for her.
“We’ll agree to be honest with each other. No matter what that means. No bullshit.”
Jane nodded in agreement before pulling him closer to her. She had nothing more to say. Nothing else really needed to be said. If Rob wanted her all to himself, she decided right then that she would try to give that to him without worrying about how she’d feel about it later on.
With both hands on the sides of his face, her lips slowly met his in passion, and her fingers slowly grazed up his skin until they were both in his hair. A fake cough from someone two machines down startled her, as she looked over, a woman gave her a disapproving look, and Jane mumbled a “sorry” to her before looking back to Rob.
“Probably shouldn’t stick my tongue down your throat in a laundromat, yeah?” she smiled as she released him from her grip. “I’m sorry I dropped all that on you,” she apologized as she hopped down from the machine and worked her warm clothes out of the dryer across from it. “What do you want to do today?”
They had a short drive to Detroit tomorrow with an interview scheduled in the afternoon, then a 9 PM set at a large venue in the city.
Jane paused in thought as she was taking the last of her clothes out of the dryer and turned to Rob, a curious expression on her face. “Where did you and Sam go this morning?
It was what Jane had figured Rob would want from her, but somewhere deep inside of her, she needed to hear him request it of her due to bad habits of blaming plausible deniability in situations like this. That, and a true urge to figure out what was going on in his head. Although she wasn’t normally worried about such things as someone else’s feelings, especially while being distracted by such an amazing physical connection, she knew Rob deserved to be able to vocalize what he wanted from her as well. It was fair.
Jane hadn’t been in an exclusive relationship in over three years completely by choice. It wasn’t a total independence thing, though, like most people automatically assumed by her. She was jaded.
Ryan Miller. She had met him surfing when she was nineteen years old, and she was immediately infatuated by him. He was twenty-five at the time and was cut from the same cloth as Jane: the flippant attitude towards life itself, the connection to the beach and nature, constant partying and bad decisions. What started off as something so passionate and beautiful had turned dark over a course of a year, but the changes had been so little, slowly trickling in to her daily life that it was hard for her to see and consequentially accept.
It was simple things at first, like condemning her for the same things he was doing, like partying and being reckless. Then, came bouts of jealousy over Jane hanging out with friends who were male, especially Rob. Jane, at the beginning, tried to please him by not hanging out with Rob as much, but any time that she did, she knew there would be a fight waiting for her when she got home. Soon, Ryan became more controlling, attempting to monitor where she was, who she was with, what texts or calls were coming in on her phone, until eventually, he had reached a boiling point.
”Ryan, chill the fuck out!” Jane yelled as she backed into a corner. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Ryan scoffed. “I should’ve listened to my friends, man,” he shook his head as he slowly approached her. “I should’ve known getting with a slut like you would do this to me.”
“What the hell did I do?” At this point, Jane had lowered her voice, but remained on guard. “Please, just calm down.”
“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down, Jane. I’m sick of you telling me to calm down,” he replied as he got a few inches from her face.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face from him. “Get the fuck out of my face, Ryan. Please. I’m sorry, okay?”
Another scoff. “Yeah, I bet you are.” At that moment, the back of his hand struck the side of her face, and she immediately recognized the metallic taste in her mouth as blood, forming from a split lip.
“I’m fucking done. I’m fucking done. I’m fucking done,” Jane kept muttering to herself until Ryan had backed away from her, allowing her enough room to collect her things from his apartment and make her way to the beater she drove downstairs.
He followed her out to keep her from leaving. “I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”
Jane ignored him as she threw her things in the backseat and got into the car. “Move, Ryan!” she screamed through the glass at him as he stood in front of the car.
“No, Jane. Come on. Get out of the car.”
While still in park, Jane put her foot on the pedal and made the engine roar, causing him to jump out of the way and give her room to get out onto the road.
“Fuck you! You’ll come back, you’ll always come back,” he shouted at the car.
Jane stuck a middle finger out of the window as she drove away, and luckily this time, she never went back.
Jane had always remembered that day vividly, a constant reminder of what giving someone control of another can produce. But there was also another part of that day – when she immediately drove to Rob’s house after the fight. How, after begging him not to confront Ryan, he comforted her and made her feel okay again.
He had always been there for her.
“We’ll agree to be honest with each other. No matter what that means. No bullshit.”
Jane nodded in agreement before pulling him closer to her. She had nothing more to say. Nothing else really needed to be said. If Rob wanted her all to himself, she decided right then that she would try to give that to him without worrying about how she’d feel about it later on.
With both hands on the sides of his face, her lips slowly met his in passion, and her fingers slowly grazed up his skin until they were both in his hair. A fake cough from someone two machines down startled her, as she looked over, a woman gave her a disapproving look, and Jane mumbled a “sorry” to her before looking back to Rob.
“Probably shouldn’t stick my tongue down your throat in a laundromat, yeah?” she smiled as she released him from her grip. “I’m sorry I dropped all that on you,” she apologized as she hopped down from the machine and worked her warm clothes out of the dryer across from it. “What do you want to do today?”
They had a short drive to Detroit tomorrow with an interview scheduled in the afternoon, then a 9 PM set at a large venue in the city.
Jane paused in thought as she was taking the last of her clothes out of the dryer and turned to Rob, a curious expression on her face. “Where did you and Sam go this morning?
Amelia was already growing exhausted of dealing with the prisoner before her, and she snapped her eyes to Antoine and rolled them. “Why must they always send us in here to waste our time?” She stood up from her crouched position with a groan and looked down to the man. “Why don’t you – “
The man jumped towards her, causing her to crash backwards into Antoine. “What – “
The feeling. The one from her dream. The sensation of a beast’s hand grazing her neck. A hand went up to touch it, but she only met her own skin, and goosebumps crawled up her spine and scattered across her skin. Antoine watched her intently as she shook her head and coughed. “I think we are done for now,” she announced with a false-sense of confidence. “I will be back for you, unnamed prisoner,” she bid farewell as she glared at the man on the floor, and after swiveling around, she left the room with Antoine without turning around until she heard the door close behind him.
“I,” she began as she looked to Antoine, “I need a bit of fresh air. Fill in the captain for me, please.” Amelia caught herself as she was about to lean in for a kiss just in time. “Sorry,” she whispered.
Once outside of the prison compound, her hands landed on her knees, and she began to breathe deeply as her mind replayed what she had felt inside of the man’s cell. Not only did the sensation of a hand haunt her, but as soon as she felt it, the room became heavy, as if the air inside was as thick as water that made her lungs burn as it cycled through. She stood up straight once more and gazed up into the overcast sky that loomed above the rolling green hills on the horizon before she felt collected enough to reenter.
Antoine had beat her to it, though, and they nearly collided as he exited. “Mon amour, what is that matter?” He asked quietly, scanning the area for other warriors before placing a hand on her shoulder. “You weren’t yourself in there.”
She sighed and looked up to him. His voice saying the same nickname her father used to call her was bittersweet. “I just didn’t like that man. I will be fine.” She forced a smile. “Is there any update on the King’s health?”
Antoine nodded. “He is still very sick and has been instructed to stay in bed. They have not been able to find what is causing it.” His eyes narrowed. “You have been so concerned with him, Amelia. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, yes,” she swallowed. “I just do not like the decisions the Queen has been making. Things were much calmer when he was well.”
Amelia had never divulged the truth of where she came from – not even her lover – for what had used to be multiple reasons, but they had all funneled into a singular, selfish one: to keep herself out of Lucia’s reach. Her usual nightmares involved the night she had caught her mother in bed with Gabriel, the terrible look in the man’s eyes as he watch her whip Amelia until she nearly slipped into unconsciousness, and how they continued their passion after she had been locked back in her room. Due to missing her father greatly and his withering health, she had accepted any mission that had gotten her inside the castle in hopes to see him once again, but the effort was proved to be futile.
“I have to catch up on a few tasks,” she blurted out.
“Okay. I shall see you later, mon amour,” he nodded. “Oh, I was reprimanded by the captain for not sleeping in my quarters. It looks as though you will be sleeping by yourself tonight.”
Amelia frowned but ultimately nodded. “See you soon.”
“We were able to find the knight that killed our men,” she announced to the captain. “He is no longer a threat.”
“Good,” the man nodded as he rubbed her chin. “Do you have anything on whatever band killed some of the livestock?”
Amelia shook her head with furrowed brows. “No. Not yet. Antoine and I are still investigating.”
“Ah, very well, I – “
Shouting sounded outside of the complex, and after a quick nod of agreement, Amelia and the man, Charles, dashed outside to see one of their men on a stretcher, splattered with presumably his own blood. “What happened?” she nearly screamed as she neared the warriors carrying him. “Not sure, we found him out in the trees like this.”
She stared in horror at the lifeless body. It looked as though his neck had been gnawed at by a beast of some sort. He also had a wound in his abdomen that was still producing bright, red blood. His eyes were still wide open like he was begging to tell them what happened, and Amelia reached out a hand and closed them.
The captain began to shout. “Put everyone on high alert. We need men on watch at all corners. I will leave it to you to take shifts. Amelia, come with me.”
She nodded and followed the man back into the brick building where he paced back and forth in front of her. “This is becoming more frequent, Bell. I need you and Antoine to stop fooling around together and get to the bottom of this.”
Her cheeks instantly blushed. “Captain, I assure you–“
“Save it. This is why women should not be in the King’s army. If it was not for his adamancy on the matter, you would just be another peasant roaming the earth in search of food.”
Her eyes burned a whole in the floor as she listened to his hurtful words. “Yes, sir.”
“Go, and bring me back some information that will prohibit more of my men getting slaughtered.”
Antoine and Amelia spent what felt like hours in the woods attempting to find any sort of clue as to what happened to Michael, the man they had brought in the camp earlier. They couldn’t find anything of use, though, and she wasn’t looking forward to heading back to the camp with nothing to show.
Something strange was happening in the woods though.
“Do you hear that?” She asked quietly to Antoine in front of her.
He paused in silence for a moment. “No. What is it?”
“It’s,” she stopped to listen. “It sounds like whispering. Voices.”
“I cannot hear a thing, Amelia.”
The activity only grew in the forest as they began to head back home. She began to see things in the corner of her eye. Dark masses, taller than average height of a man. Once again, Antoine did not see anything which made Amelia question herself.
“I must have a fever,” she mumbled as she pushed onward, staying in close proximity to Antoine. The stopped mentioning the shadowy figures she was seeing – he probably already thought she was crazy enough – and a silent prayer was said in her head that she had heard from her mother when she was little.
“Protégeme de las fuerzas oscuras y su agenda oscura en el nombre de Dios. Amén.” She finished the short prayer with signing a cross over her chest and kissing her hand. Although Amelia found most religious sentiments ridiculous, they were comforting. Soothing.
When they returned to camp, Amelia left Antoine to fill in the captain while she visited the healer. She was a stout, old woman – probably in her fifties or sixties – with silvery white hair and dark eyes surrounded by wrinkled skin.
“Maria, thank you for seeing me,” Amelia smiled as she was sat down on a lumpy cot in the dimly-lit room.
The old woman waved a hand at her. “Please,” she retorted in a gravelly voice. “You are always a delight to see. What is the matter with you, girl?”
“I think I may have a fever. I have been seeing things, hearing things, feeling things. I also had the worst nightmare I have ever experienced last night.” She shivered a bit as she recounted it.
“Hmm,” the old woman pondered. “It does sound like it could be illness. Let me feel you.”
Maria put a hand to the girl’s forehead and abruptly yanked her hand away. “Amelia, you have the opposite of a fever. Your temperature is too low.”
A quizzical expression took over Amelia’s face. “Too low? How is that possible?”
“I’m not sure,” the woman sure her head. “Let me blend something for you.”
The woman stepped over to a small wooden table and worked on a concoction of herbs, spices, and unknown ingredients and handed it to Amelia in a jug with a cork securing the top. “Drink this throughout the day. I will tell the captain that you should be on bed rest until you warm up a bit.”
All Amelia could do was nod. She must have picked something up from Henry, the man whose head was delivered to the King, when he was touching her.
Amelia had spent the rest of the day in her room drinking the potion tailored for her. It was awful; she nearly vomited each time she took a sip. Her naked body was bundled in a blanket as the last bit of light escaped from the sky and the room flickered with candle light. She desperately craved Antoine’s presence, but especially now that she was ill, it was probably best that he stay in his quarters.
Her thoughts lingered on the mysterious prisoner that was brought in early that morning and how she felt in that cell, in his presence. Could he be the reason behind the strange day she had?
No, no. It couldn’t be. There were no such things as malevolent forces that would bring this upon her, and there was definitely no such thing as magic. She mulled over the day in her head until she was eventually lulled to sleep.
”It was as if Amelia was perched up in the corner, watching herself sleep in bed. The candle was still flickering on the small table, and the room was filled with a deafening silence. Everything was calm and peaceful –
The candle was blown out by a breeze that also ruffled the papers on the table. The room went pitch black, and Amelia, who was watching the room, could feel her heart start to race, and her eyes began to scan the room as they adjusted to the darkness.
”Clara,” a whisper called out, breaking the silence. ”Clara.”
Amelia nearly jumped out of bed as she awoke, panting heavily. Her skin glistened with sweat in the minimal light the moon outside was casting in her room, and she immediately pulled up the blanket to cover her chest as if someone else was in the room. It felt like there was.
“It was just a dream, Amelia,” she mumbled to herself as she wiped the sweat from her brow.
Immediately after she spoke, a dark shadow caught her attention in the corner of her room.
“A-Antoine?” she whispered. “Is that you?”
She then saw the shadow crouch down on the floor, and for a moment, she lost sight of it. She backed her body up against the wall that the bed was cornered in and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Protégeme de las fuerzas oscuras y su agenda oscura en el nombre de Dios. Amén.” The Spanish prayer her mother had taught her was said in wavering breaths, but before she could repeat it, her body was lifted from the bed and thrown like a ragdoll, and she hit the wall on the opposite side of the room with a thud before landing on the floor beneath it.
Frozen in fear, she curled up into a ball on the floor when an abrupt stinging pain radiated from her back, causing an involuntary whimper from her. Before she could cry for help, her body was lifted once more, this time by her throat, and her body was pressed against the wall. Her eyes were shut as she tried to claw at whatever was pinning her, but there was nothing to claw at. She felt the claws from her nightmares dig into her neck as she gasped for air.
”Clara”, it whispered again before she dropped down to the floor.
The candle’s flame returned, and she could see that nothing was in the room. After her lungs heaved to make up for the oxygen they lacked, she put a hand to her back and brought it into her view. Blood.
In a hastened fashion, she quickly threw on her white linen shirt and breeches that were crumpled up in the corner, and she didn’t bother to lace her boots before dashing out of the building and making her way to the prison as she sheathed her sword at her waist.
Wasting no time, she swung the door open and stood in front of the prisoner, sword drawn, still panting from the attack. “Wake up,” she demanded sternly, but quiet enough not to alert the guards. “Since you’ve been in our camp, strange things have been happening to me. If you have magical abilities like they say you do, tell me what this is.”
She turned around and lifted her blood stained shirt to show three claw marks trailing down her back. After facing him again, she removed her hair from her neck to show him the bruising marks it had left. “Tell me what is happening.” It took nearly all of her energy to keep the tears down that were attempting to escape from her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
The man jumped towards her, causing her to crash backwards into Antoine. “What – “
The feeling. The one from her dream. The sensation of a beast’s hand grazing her neck. A hand went up to touch it, but she only met her own skin, and goosebumps crawled up her spine and scattered across her skin. Antoine watched her intently as she shook her head and coughed. “I think we are done for now,” she announced with a false-sense of confidence. “I will be back for you, unnamed prisoner,” she bid farewell as she glared at the man on the floor, and after swiveling around, she left the room with Antoine without turning around until she heard the door close behind him.
“I,” she began as she looked to Antoine, “I need a bit of fresh air. Fill in the captain for me, please.” Amelia caught herself as she was about to lean in for a kiss just in time. “Sorry,” she whispered.
Once outside of the prison compound, her hands landed on her knees, and she began to breathe deeply as her mind replayed what she had felt inside of the man’s cell. Not only did the sensation of a hand haunt her, but as soon as she felt it, the room became heavy, as if the air inside was as thick as water that made her lungs burn as it cycled through. She stood up straight once more and gazed up into the overcast sky that loomed above the rolling green hills on the horizon before she felt collected enough to reenter.
Antoine had beat her to it, though, and they nearly collided as he exited. “Mon amour, what is that matter?” He asked quietly, scanning the area for other warriors before placing a hand on her shoulder. “You weren’t yourself in there.”
She sighed and looked up to him. His voice saying the same nickname her father used to call her was bittersweet. “I just didn’t like that man. I will be fine.” She forced a smile. “Is there any update on the King’s health?”
Antoine nodded. “He is still very sick and has been instructed to stay in bed. They have not been able to find what is causing it.” His eyes narrowed. “You have been so concerned with him, Amelia. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, yes,” she swallowed. “I just do not like the decisions the Queen has been making. Things were much calmer when he was well.”
Amelia had never divulged the truth of where she came from – not even her lover – for what had used to be multiple reasons, but they had all funneled into a singular, selfish one: to keep herself out of Lucia’s reach. Her usual nightmares involved the night she had caught her mother in bed with Gabriel, the terrible look in the man’s eyes as he watch her whip Amelia until she nearly slipped into unconsciousness, and how they continued their passion after she had been locked back in her room. Due to missing her father greatly and his withering health, she had accepted any mission that had gotten her inside the castle in hopes to see him once again, but the effort was proved to be futile.
“I have to catch up on a few tasks,” she blurted out.
“Okay. I shall see you later, mon amour,” he nodded. “Oh, I was reprimanded by the captain for not sleeping in my quarters. It looks as though you will be sleeping by yourself tonight.”
Amelia frowned but ultimately nodded. “See you soon.”
*****
“We were able to find the knight that killed our men,” she announced to the captain. “He is no longer a threat.”
“Good,” the man nodded as he rubbed her chin. “Do you have anything on whatever band killed some of the livestock?”
Amelia shook her head with furrowed brows. “No. Not yet. Antoine and I are still investigating.”
“Ah, very well, I – “
Shouting sounded outside of the complex, and after a quick nod of agreement, Amelia and the man, Charles, dashed outside to see one of their men on a stretcher, splattered with presumably his own blood. “What happened?” she nearly screamed as she neared the warriors carrying him. “Not sure, we found him out in the trees like this.”
She stared in horror at the lifeless body. It looked as though his neck had been gnawed at by a beast of some sort. He also had a wound in his abdomen that was still producing bright, red blood. His eyes were still wide open like he was begging to tell them what happened, and Amelia reached out a hand and closed them.
The captain began to shout. “Put everyone on high alert. We need men on watch at all corners. I will leave it to you to take shifts. Amelia, come with me.”
She nodded and followed the man back into the brick building where he paced back and forth in front of her. “This is becoming more frequent, Bell. I need you and Antoine to stop fooling around together and get to the bottom of this.”
Her cheeks instantly blushed. “Captain, I assure you–“
“Save it. This is why women should not be in the King’s army. If it was not for his adamancy on the matter, you would just be another peasant roaming the earth in search of food.”
Her eyes burned a whole in the floor as she listened to his hurtful words. “Yes, sir.”
“Go, and bring me back some information that will prohibit more of my men getting slaughtered.”
*****
Antoine and Amelia spent what felt like hours in the woods attempting to find any sort of clue as to what happened to Michael, the man they had brought in the camp earlier. They couldn’t find anything of use, though, and she wasn’t looking forward to heading back to the camp with nothing to show.
Something strange was happening in the woods though.
“Do you hear that?” She asked quietly to Antoine in front of her.
He paused in silence for a moment. “No. What is it?”
“It’s,” she stopped to listen. “It sounds like whispering. Voices.”
“I cannot hear a thing, Amelia.”
The activity only grew in the forest as they began to head back home. She began to see things in the corner of her eye. Dark masses, taller than average height of a man. Once again, Antoine did not see anything which made Amelia question herself.
“I must have a fever,” she mumbled as she pushed onward, staying in close proximity to Antoine. The stopped mentioning the shadowy figures she was seeing – he probably already thought she was crazy enough – and a silent prayer was said in her head that she had heard from her mother when she was little.
“Protégeme de las fuerzas oscuras y su agenda oscura en el nombre de Dios. Amén.” She finished the short prayer with signing a cross over her chest and kissing her hand. Although Amelia found most religious sentiments ridiculous, they were comforting. Soothing.
When they returned to camp, Amelia left Antoine to fill in the captain while she visited the healer. She was a stout, old woman – probably in her fifties or sixties – with silvery white hair and dark eyes surrounded by wrinkled skin.
“Maria, thank you for seeing me,” Amelia smiled as she was sat down on a lumpy cot in the dimly-lit room.
The old woman waved a hand at her. “Please,” she retorted in a gravelly voice. “You are always a delight to see. What is the matter with you, girl?”
“I think I may have a fever. I have been seeing things, hearing things, feeling things. I also had the worst nightmare I have ever experienced last night.” She shivered a bit as she recounted it.
“Hmm,” the old woman pondered. “It does sound like it could be illness. Let me feel you.”
Maria put a hand to the girl’s forehead and abruptly yanked her hand away. “Amelia, you have the opposite of a fever. Your temperature is too low.”
A quizzical expression took over Amelia’s face. “Too low? How is that possible?”
“I’m not sure,” the woman sure her head. “Let me blend something for you.”
The woman stepped over to a small wooden table and worked on a concoction of herbs, spices, and unknown ingredients and handed it to Amelia in a jug with a cork securing the top. “Drink this throughout the day. I will tell the captain that you should be on bed rest until you warm up a bit.”
All Amelia could do was nod. She must have picked something up from Henry, the man whose head was delivered to the King, when he was touching her.
*****
Amelia had spent the rest of the day in her room drinking the potion tailored for her. It was awful; she nearly vomited each time she took a sip. Her naked body was bundled in a blanket as the last bit of light escaped from the sky and the room flickered with candle light. She desperately craved Antoine’s presence, but especially now that she was ill, it was probably best that he stay in his quarters.
Her thoughts lingered on the mysterious prisoner that was brought in early that morning and how she felt in that cell, in his presence. Could he be the reason behind the strange day she had?
No, no. It couldn’t be. There were no such things as malevolent forces that would bring this upon her, and there was definitely no such thing as magic. She mulled over the day in her head until she was eventually lulled to sleep.
”It was as if Amelia was perched up in the corner, watching herself sleep in bed. The candle was still flickering on the small table, and the room was filled with a deafening silence. Everything was calm and peaceful –
The candle was blown out by a breeze that also ruffled the papers on the table. The room went pitch black, and Amelia, who was watching the room, could feel her heart start to race, and her eyes began to scan the room as they adjusted to the darkness.
”Clara,” a whisper called out, breaking the silence. ”Clara.”
Amelia nearly jumped out of bed as she awoke, panting heavily. Her skin glistened with sweat in the minimal light the moon outside was casting in her room, and she immediately pulled up the blanket to cover her chest as if someone else was in the room. It felt like there was.
“It was just a dream, Amelia,” she mumbled to herself as she wiped the sweat from her brow.
Immediately after she spoke, a dark shadow caught her attention in the corner of her room.
“A-Antoine?” she whispered. “Is that you?”
She then saw the shadow crouch down on the floor, and for a moment, she lost sight of it. She backed her body up against the wall that the bed was cornered in and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Protégeme de las fuerzas oscuras y su agenda oscura en el nombre de Dios. Amén.” The Spanish prayer her mother had taught her was said in wavering breaths, but before she could repeat it, her body was lifted from the bed and thrown like a ragdoll, and she hit the wall on the opposite side of the room with a thud before landing on the floor beneath it.
Frozen in fear, she curled up into a ball on the floor when an abrupt stinging pain radiated from her back, causing an involuntary whimper from her. Before she could cry for help, her body was lifted once more, this time by her throat, and her body was pressed against the wall. Her eyes were shut as she tried to claw at whatever was pinning her, but there was nothing to claw at. She felt the claws from her nightmares dig into her neck as she gasped for air.
”Clara”, it whispered again before she dropped down to the floor.
The candle’s flame returned, and she could see that nothing was in the room. After her lungs heaved to make up for the oxygen they lacked, she put a hand to her back and brought it into her view. Blood.
In a hastened fashion, she quickly threw on her white linen shirt and breeches that were crumpled up in the corner, and she didn’t bother to lace her boots before dashing out of the building and making her way to the prison as she sheathed her sword at her waist.
*****
Wasting no time, she swung the door open and stood in front of the prisoner, sword drawn, still panting from the attack. “Wake up,” she demanded sternly, but quiet enough not to alert the guards. “Since you’ve been in our camp, strange things have been happening to me. If you have magical abilities like they say you do, tell me what this is.”
She turned around and lifted her blood stained shirt to show three claw marks trailing down her back. After facing him again, she removed her hair from her neck to show him the bruising marks it had left. “Tell me what is happening.” It took nearly all of her energy to keep the tears down that were attempting to escape from her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
Texas, huh? I have a pen-pal type friend that lives there. I told him it's $1500 a month here for a 2/2 apartment and he freaked out haha. Enjoy the inexpensive living while you can! I'm originally from Atlanta, so high fives for being southerners.
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