Recover: Book 2 of the Magic Mutations Series | ✓

1: A Story of Pain

December 2018

The bond broke over a week ago now, solidifying that we were, in fact, over. Normally when a bond invitation breaks, the pain that comes with the remainder of the 'string' disintegrating into your heart only takes a couple of hours to pass. You usually wake up feeling fine, with no ill feelings—or any feelings at all—towards the person who rejected you.

But this time, it was different. As the hours turned into days, then the days became a week, the aching constriction in my chest still burned vibrantly—a harrowing indication of what I had lost. I'd prefer the dull ache I lived with before we met. I'd prefer feeling nothing at all. Because this fervent reminder that she was gone but my heart still longed to remember her was too much to bear at times.

Which is why again tonight I found myself wandering into the pub, sitting at the bar, and ordering beer after beer. Because if I drank enough until my mind became fuzzy and my depth perception began to waver, I might be able to sleep.

The bartender raised an eyebrow at me when I ordered my tenth beer with no effects as of yet, but by now he should honestly be used to it. I never stirred trouble despite drinking often over twenty drinks. I always paid my tab. I was a good source of income, so he should mind his business and keep his eyebrow raises to himself.

I sighed inwardly at my sudden unwarranted attitude to the man. I'm sure he was more confused with how I could even drink so much without ending up in a hospital room. He was only human.

Alcohol had similar effects on a mutant that it did on a human, though we all have different abilities to metabolise. Those with diets closer to humans—such as witches—found the effects very similar and the intoxication rate almost on par (with the witch being able to withstand slightly more than a human, of course). But vampires took longer. And the stronger the vampire line, the more drinks were necessary. Also, that point of blurry vision, sleepiness, and memory loss lasted much shorter for my kind.

As I continued to sip at the fizzy, malty liquid that burned my throat on its way down, I mostly kept my eyes focussed on studying the grains in the wooden countertop. Each day I picked something new to draw my attention to while I awaited the effects I was seeking. I rarely noticed who came and went around me.

But when a soft-spoken voice with an all-too-familiar accent asked for a cocktail beside me, my head immediately turned to take her in.

Chocolate-coloured hair, honey-toned eyes, and bronze-like skin, she gave the bartender a weak, evidently fake smile as he placed her drink in front of her before she seemed to feel my gaze. Looking at me, her brows furrowed.

"Can I help you?" she asked me, that accent resounding in my ears like poison, making the remainders of the bond string burn even more ferociously around my heart, drawing her emerald eyes back into my mind.

"No," I muttered, finishing my beer despite only having just started it. I called for another while she returned her attention to her drink, taking small sips.

If talking to her that first instance hurt, I shouldn't do it again. But the vivid memories of Olivia that permeated over every inch of my being with just her accent was tickling some form desire to remember her once more. It wasn't helpful in any way. But god I missed her, even though I was not supposed to able to.

"Not a beer person, hey?" I eventually said, wondering if this was how you make small talk with a human. Don't get me wrong, I've interacted with their kind before. But normally they were the ones showing interest first, mesmerised by the magical pull that attracted humans to us mutants like we were in some way more beautiful or superior than them—which we weren't. We were just people trying to make the most of this so-called life.