Nevermore

Chapter 11

My vision is still a little blurry from being unfocused so long. The corners of the room are fuzzy, and the shadows seems to vibrate. Yet, Roshan's face is clear as the light of day. 

I drink him in. He stares back unabashed. His gold eyes are clouded with deep, deep sorrow. Is that a flicker of regret I see? Dark thumbprints of shadow are smudged beneath his eyes. He's exhausted, but he's still here. I don't even register that my hand is clutched tightly in both of his. 

My eyes start to well. He could have left me. He could have let me die, but he stayed. He stayed. Why? What does he see in someone as broken as me? 

I can't help it: silent tears stream down my face. I'm trying to choke back my sobs, but they don't stay hidden for long. Within seconds, a pain and sadness so profound is heaving its way up my throat. 

Roshan's own eyes start to water. He's trying so hard, and it's working. He gathers me into his arms. I let his warmth encircle me. I let his golden haze reverberate into my body, my mind. 

The crying continues relentlessly, but he still holds on. I can feel his shoulders shaking. We both let twin rives pour down our faces. We don't speak, but let our actions do the talking. 

Once again, I'm so grateful. I've done some horrible things. I've been a monster to myself, my parents, my damned attacker, and now Roshan. 

And he cares for me. After all I've put this poor young man through, he still cares. 

It's almost too much. This realization in itself is almost painful. It's a good pain. It is the pain of caring so deeply for someone, that you ache for their well being. 

My face in buried into his broad chest. Slowly, I let my cheek travel along the skin of his chest to his neck. He strokes my hair, and pulls me even tighter. 

We're practically strangers, yet we hold each other as if we're old lovers. It's so heartbreakingly human. He's so heartbreakingly human. 

We sob for each other, for the injustice of this world, and our knowledge in each other. 

Like the tide returning back to the vast ocean, our tears subside. 

Hesitantly, we raise our faces towards each others.' I gaze up into his red-rimmed eyes. He looks back down at me. 

"We're a sorry sight for eyes, aren't we?" he chuckles.

I laugh softly. 

We stay like that for a while, not sure where to go from here.

I am still tangled in his arms. His fingers trace small spiral patterns on my arms. I shiver.

"Are you...? Why'd you do it?" he whispers.

I turn my face away. Why did I do it? I know I can't keep running from him. After everything he's done for me, I need to tell him. 

I release I shaky sigh.

"That's a really long, sad story," I admonish tearfully. 

"Long, sad stories are practically home. You can tell me," he says softly. 

Reluctantly, I detach myself from his powerful grip. I back up so my back hits the wall. It's not that I don't want him to hold me, I just need to see his face. 

He looks hurt that I retreated from him. Nonetheless, he stares back into my eyes. Expectant.

I curl my arms around my knees. I let my head fall back against the clay wall. 

The shadows in my mind are starting to return, but this time I let them. I have a light to guide me through the dark memories. 

"My name is Princess NIsha Rajaram, Eldest Heir to the Rajaram Dynasty," I begin.