The Vortex: Rectification

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Forty-Seven.

I've been surrounded by more trauma and accidents than I could have ever thought, it's not something I thought I would seek and treat in life but when do things ever pan out the way you'd imagine they would?

When you see so much pain and loss over such a short period of time, what you expect of yourself when going through the same thing is a little warped. That's not to say that I'm not messed up from eleven months of constant pain, but I don't have this desire to hide away from everything like some other people I met.

I can feel this wedge of pain in my chest every time I try and do magic, like the very core of me has been damaged from the bracelet and constant repression but I know what that comes from. My magic spent so long protecting me, fighting a stupid potion and keeping the pain from corrupting my brain and memories that we are stuck in a kind of limbo now, I don't need the protection any longer and my magic doesn't know what to do with itself now that danger isn't constantly surrounding me.

I can feel the tingle of my magic every time my frustration rises, when I have to stay back and safe while everyone goes out on missions and fights for all the things I once did too. They don't leave me completely on my own often, it's hard to ignore the fact that they worry that if I am alone with Aleera or my own mind for too long, they'll come home and find me mid-breakdown.

It's hard to pretend I don't understand where their fear comes from when sometimes I find myself worrying about the same thing, nightmares come to rob me of restful sleep and peaceful dreams more than I would like to admit. Gruesome exaggerations of things that never happened but like to linger in the back of my brain like a creeping disease.

As winter encroaches, I neglect to light the fireplace that taunts me against the far wall of my room, not just because I don't know how to light one manually but because asking someone else to cast the spell feels like admitting defeat. Problem-solving was always my thing and yet I can't seem to find the switch to reroute all my magic, and that maybe shouldn't be the thing currently bothering me the most.

The fluffy pink socks keep my cold toes warm from the prickling chill of three-am, the sweatpants Liylah gave me from her wardrobe are tucked into the thick fabric and I have my matching jumper pulled down over my fingers. The thick, warmth of my comforter does little against my cold cheeks even with the material tucked around my ears and my hood tightened around my face.

Personally, I think this room being so cold is a cruel joke and the universes way of telling me that I cannot avoid asking for help forever. As if I didn't already know such a thing, but we all know there is a vast difference between knowing you need to ask and actually doing it.

The creak of my bedroom opening has a stream of living room light streaking straight across my bed, the sound has my head whipping off the pillow and eyes darting from the roof to the open door. Alexander's blonde head of hair and dark eyes reveal themselves as the intruder, my battering heart slows a fraction at the sight.

His gaze widens when he sees me, like he hadn't been expecting me awake and for good reason, if I had thought he was gone often when we were together, then it pales in comparison to now. If I didn't have six other people constantly telling me that he wasn't, then I would think he was avoiding me.

My head thumps back down against my pillow when his shoulder's slide through the doorway, and the soft click of my door echoes through the silent room. I don't move even an inch when I feel the side of my bed dip, and Alexander's tall frame slides in next to me but doesn't venture under my comforter. There's this underlying tension between us now, that comes with weeks of us barely talking.