Ariella's biggest desire in life has always been such a simple one. She wants to be 'normal.' Unfortunately, that one simple wish has never been within her grasp. Coming from a long line of witches is bad enough, but she's even more different than t...
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A few days later, before school, I find myself in my favorite clearing in the woods. I'd been awoken by the usual nightmares yet again, and I threw on my running shoes, doing my best to outrun the memories. If only it really was that easy.
Sitting down on one of the giant boulders scattered around the clearing, I suck in deep breaths, trying to ease my racing heart and raging emotions. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, the same images replay behind my closed lids, causing me to sigh in exhaustion.
School, meeting so many new people, and making a few friends all provide a welcome distraction, but when I'm alone, it all comes rushing back without fail. The quiet seems to grow into a life of its own. In those moments, the grief and guilt choke me, doing their best to drag me under their crushing weight.
Reaching up, I wipe a lone tear from my cheek with the sleeve of my dad's favorite old hoodie. I'd stolen it from his closet months before they died, but I'd never been more thankful for it than I am at this moment.
With a quick sniff, I try to clear all emotion from my face when I hear the sound of quiet footsteps approaching. I know who it is without even looking up. Only one person knows I like to come here when I'm feeling overwhelmed.
"Figured you'd be here," he says as he steps out of the surrounding trees. "It's almost like clockwork at this point. Still the same nightmare, I assume?"
I just look at him, not even an ounce of emotion showing on my face, and don't bother to respond. We both already know the answer anyway.
"You don't have to do that, you know. Not with me, at least," Lucien says gently, and my façade almost cracks when I see the sadness and concern in his eyes. My walls hold firm, though.
Ruining my mask of indifference, my aggravation threatens to overflow when I notice what he's wearing. His black track pants and sleeveless shirt can only mean one thing.
"Do you ever get cold? I mean, seriously, it's thirty degrees out here, and you're traipsing through the woods sleeveless."
Rolling his eyes, he ignores the question entirely. "I know you don't want to do this, but I really think it'll help, AJ. I think it's a good release for the anger you're harboring."
A scoff slips out before I can stop it. "I don't feel angry. I feel guilty. There's a difference."
He tilts his head, studying me closely, and I squirm under the scrutiny. "I think you're wrong. I know you feel guilty, but I think there's plenty of anger in there as well. Even if you don't realize it yourself, I can see it in your eyes."
"What you see is aggravation at having to train without being told what I'm training for," I say with plenty of teenage attitude, which is unusual for me. That's always been River's area of expertise. I tend to just go along with things. I have plenty of experience with being controlled by the adults around me without any explanations. Because of my familiarity with the situation, it's rare for me to snap back. The last time had been the last words I said to my parents. Wincing at the thought, I stand from my seat on the boulder, needing a distraction.
