My Wee Mate

19 - One Whiff

Fraser

Time drags on in a way that I did not expect since Ailsa has disappeared.

Each day feels like an eternity spent in this hell. I glare at the wall everyday, even putting my hands on the indestructible bands. Normal metal they are not, they are made from pure, sterling silver.

In normal circumstances, I would be able to bend the bars. The lack of food and light from the moon has weakened me too much for escape. The bars would burn my hands, so badly that I would need to let go immediately.

I've never wanted to escape more than I do now, and it all has to do with how miserable I have become without that girl here.

That girl. The sweet, honey haired girl that visited me despite her best interests. Her innocence, sweet smile, displaying her kindness, and I turned her way.

I growl at myself, pushing it from my brain or at least, trying to. I am unsuccessful, and the image of Ailsa bursts free again. It's all I think of now, that's why the time seems to crawl on forever, like a spider with one leg.

When I last saw her, I had reacted poorly to the discovery. Ailsa, sweet as she is, is the daughter of Laird Sinclair. Overreacted is an understatement. I lost all control as I yelled at her.

But how was I to know? How could I have realized that she was the daughter of the devious man who had imprisoned me here, and made my life absolutely miserable?

She had never told me. Obviously when it came to light, I had every right to be upset about the revolution hadn't I? She kept it from me. It led me to believe that she had something to gain from keeping it close to her shuddering chest.

No. No. Now I know that Ailsa's tenderness could not be a farce. I've had time to reflect, to relive the night I lost her. As much as my mind had reeled against the news of her bloodline in that moment, I should never have jumped to such rash conclusions.

I shake my head at myself and my deteriorating mind. I stare at my hands, and think of the way her face had contorted with deep sorrow as I threw accusations at her left and right. Ailsa hadn't even defended herself. She didn't fight me, had no rebuttal for me. She didn't beg me to believe her. She simply showed her expression of genuine hurt. Real, raw anguish painted her face. I had hurt her.

Then, she fled.

Days had gone by after the incident before I realized my grave mistake. By then I assumed that our bond had grown so strong that she would return to me. More days pass me by, days morphed into a week and then two, still, she hadn't returned to me.

And why should she? I curse myself and my mean temper. I hreatened to kill her. The threat was idle, a lie, it was a result of my outburst from the fit of rage that had taken complete control of me. But the look in her eyes, the fear blossoming in Ailsa's blue eyes, it still haunts me. Her gaze told me that she believed me. She knew I could kill her.

I didn't know how much her absence would affect me. In the beginning, I hadn't quite yearned for her presence as I do now. I have grown attached. I have to realize that, have to work through it. I can pretend no longer.

As much as I hate the idea, absolutely loathe the image of being tied down by a human girl, a Sinclair no less, it's the truth.

I don't know what this feeling is, this emptiness without her here.

I love my clan, I cannot live life without my brothers, but this feeling is somehow different. It's new, a budding sort of relationship that I've never explored. Although my clan means the world to me, I do not consider myself an emotional man.