Invited

Forty-Nine - Timber

I puked. I puked until my stomach was empty and I had nothing left inside of me. No emotions, nothing. Talia...she'd almost been seriously hurt...again. And I couldn't do anything to help her. Again. I'd been warned in my meeting with Paul that something violent and disturbing might take place during our video call. For whatever reason, I hadn't taken him as seriously as I should have.

And it was my fault. Everything that had happened to them was my fault, and the guilt was what was killing me inside. My stomach churned all over again as I wondered if Talia and Wicken would see my actions as betrayal or necessity? Especially Wicken. He'd been through a lot already, both physically and emotionally. It was like the torment never seemed to cease for him. I don't think he'd take too kindly to learning his new scar was my doing.

"You okay in there?" Chevelle asked, knocking on the bathroom door.

"Yeah," I managed, and flushed the toilet. I think I was done. I hoped so. Already, my head was feeling dizzy and my body was weak. Even though I didn't particularly feel hungry, I needed to eat something.

I took a moment to splash some water on my face and then brush my teeth. Freshen up, essentially, before opening the door. Chevelle was still standing there waiting for me.

Sighing, I pushed my way past her. "I'm fine. Just...shell-shocked." She couldn't know. If I told her, she would kill me and get thrown into the Pit.

"The icing on the cake?" she asked.

"Mmhmm." It wasn't a lie, so at least I didn't have to add that on to my list of things to feel crummy over.

She rubbed my back and then moved in front of me to go sit with Lara in the living room. "Paul dropped by a few minutes ago while you were...de-stressing. He said he'd stop by later tonight to see if you were in the mood for some fresh air."

Nodding, I sat down in my chair and closed my eyes. Paul was a mind reader, I swear. Because only he would know if everything was going according to plan or not. I needed to know if things were still on course, or if the unthinkable had happened and they were now a whole lot worse.

"Here," Nathan said, and handed me a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

I took a slow sip and willed myself to take deep, slow breaths and attempt to calm down. The images of the attack were burned in my mind, and I watched them play over again like some kind of nightmare. Knowing Talia was in danger was a whole lot different than seeing it firsthand. Worst of all, I was still unable to help her directly.

Everything that happened next was going to have to be handled with even more care than the meeting. One more wrong move would destroy our future. We'd either be together again, she'd be killed, or, even more frightening, doomed to a lifetime apart. Talia dying would be unforgivable, but somehow it wasn't as torturous as the thought of her being separated from me. I'd always wonder, always worry, always be scared for her, and always hating the idea of either of us moving on. Did that make me a bad person? The fact that I would rather her die than be with someone else? Because I felt like a lunatic for even thinking such a terrible thing.

I closed my eyes. The firm realization that I wasn't as okay as I originally thought, started to seep in. My head was warped from all of the trauma. That was the only explanation I could think of. After what my parents did, the world seemed to be painted in different colors: where everything used to be bright and hopeful, all I saw now was darkness. The things which kept me going, the people who had never let me down had ditched me for their own selfishness. I used to be stupid enough to believe that there were some people in the world who were better than letting their own desires get in the way of the right thing. Now? Can't say I was so sure.