Treasured

38)

Wren

I winced, feeling every bump in the road. My body was full of aches and pains, and my leg was worse than it had been in a long time. I grimaced as my Aunt's loud voice grated on my ears, making me want to cover them so I didn't have to listen to her anymore.

"...Acting as if I was an old ninny! I never!" Aunt Matilda carried on in the most dramatic way. "He told me he was doing his best to be proactive in the situation. But if that was true, then why did that young man die?"

My heart squeezed tight in pain at her emotionless, cold, words. Of course, she didn't know Orion, nor did she know that we were romantically involved...but she could show a bit of compassion, could she not? At the least, she should think of us as friends, as society dictated, and yet, she held no such courtesy for either of us.

Society. I never hated a word so much in my life. Friends. It tasted bitter in my mouth. Orion was more than that, and I felt vile stripping the title of lover, intended, or more meaningful from him. I was degrading him, making him less than what he truly was, and I felt guilty for it. And yet, what could I do without exposing myself and losing my own life?

~

The door creaked open, gently swishing against the floor. My eyes darted towards it, my first instinct to panic. Branson was seated next to the bed on an old chair, but quickly rose at the interference.

Eddie's piercing eyes met mine, and a slight flame ignited within me. Had he done the impossible? If any man could talk sense into my Aunt...surely it would be him?

"Branson, may we have the room?" Eddie quietly requested, never once taking his eyes off of me.

"Of course. Where are the others?" Branson acquiesced.

"They are gathered in the gallery," Eddie answered in his even, firm voice.

Branson gracefully exited, latching the door on the way out and leaving Eddie and I alone. I felt like we were both too close together, and too far apart in the same instant. I wanted to be crushed against his breast and kissed and loved until I forgot I existed on an earthly plane. And yet, I felt I must distance myself, prepare myself for a heavy blow.

The heart has always been a fickle thing, claiming one thing only to do the opposite. It says that it hated someone, only to love them fiercely. It says to expect disappointment, to prepare for pain and heartbreak, but instead it builds hope and anticipation instead. It says to guard yourself, shield yourself from pain and attachment, only to go and seek the same.

I would never forget the look in his eyes, the quiver in his lips as he met me with a candor that struck me to the bone, and a gentleness that pierced me to the heart. The endless sympathy, the gracious tenderness and the infinite love that flitted across his face in a shifting array of emotion...

"I'm sorry, darling, she won't be reasoned with..."

And the words that imprisoned me, caged me, shackled me to the darkness I had been shut inside for so long...the utter agony, the helplessness that rose like a tidal wave...how could I ever hope to express it in words?

I felt myself crumbling, shattering...imploding. The rage, the utter sense of betrayal, the feeling of complete isolation - it was so much, I couldn't contain it. But I didn't want to soil what could possibly be my last moments with the man who taught me how to love, how to live, how to breathe, with hurtful words or unkind feelings.

No, he deserved better than that. They all did.

So, I let the glass, the knives, all the sharp edges hurt me instead. I felt my soul rip itself apart, I accepted the agony as my heart dripped all over the proverbial floor, still beating in my hand. And I smiled.