The Afflicted Hearts (The Unwanted Bride Series: Book Two)

Beau.ti.ful.ly Broken

Dark. Dark with shimmers of white. Pleasant voices wrap around like a blanket. Dusting of gold flows around the edges of the back as the voices grow. A burst of group laughter and flashes of beautifully dressed people springs to life. It's like my eyes have finally opened to the space around me. The warm, golden glow of the room is intoxicating, or more likely filled with intoxicated people who hold slim trumpet glasses of blush pink fizzy stuff.

My vision moves like I am walking forward. Strange, it doesn't feel like I'm walking. The vision dips past people on the left, then it douses to the right. I guess I am walking towards something. To what I do not know. The voices buzz past as the warmth of the room slowly grows colder. The gold tones start to fade to gray around the edges of my vision. As I continue on, more cracks in the gold spread across. The cold gray taking over like a disease until finally the entirety of my vision is a dark gray.

     In front of me stands the back of a person I am all too familiar with. The voices, once laughing and joyous, have died away. Harsh whispers sound off behind me. Their words are unintelligible and shrill. I stand behind the person and they slowly turn to look at me. Theodore stands there, his wear the same as the dinner last night. His face is pale, hallow, ghostly as he stares at me. His mouth hangs open and a voice like his echo tumbles from his mouth.

"Would you like to know why you will not win the bet?" It breaths out hauntingly. My shoulders shiver and I try to step away, but my body holds still. Although my mouth does not open, somewhere , somehow, my voice responds. He tilts his head and I nearly scream. This is terrifying.

"Dancing requires trust. Trust which you do not have." It mocks and I clench my fists together. That's not what he said then. He knows why I don't trust. He said he understood.

"You," the voice drags out into a hiss. "Miss Burks, are so wrapped up in the element of untrustworthiness that you..."flashes of the last few months with the guys flood my brain. Moments which I could have told them more than I did. Moments that I chose not to trust them. "...are going to make us look like fools." The voice clicks and groans unnervingly. His mouth hangs open more and I grimace as he steps towards me.

"Trust is essential." Finally my body snaps back to life as he nearly grabs me. I push away and fall onto my back.

Once I land, I look up to see a bright blue sky with branches of trees stretching across the bottom right corner of my vision. Right above me, blocking the sun is a person whose face I cannot see. Their hair short and sticking out slightly, a leave is stuck in their hair. They stretch out their hand towards me, a small hand. The hand a child would have.

"Trust me Juniper." A small boy's voice says as he lowers his head and his face shines clear as day in my brain. His eyes, gray and still, his smile wide and true. "I will never leave you." I stretch out and my hand to grab his. I blink and when my eyes open, I am staring up at the ceiling of my bed room in the castle.

I stare up at it, my hand still reaching towards him. A dream... of course it was only a dream. He left so long ago. I slowly raise up and set my hand into my lap. My hair tumbles over my shoulders, covering some edges of my vision as I look down at my hand.

"Peter..." I whisper. The sensation of his warm hand is almost tangible against mine. "It's been so long." I turn my head towards the double doors, staring past the curtains to the sea beyond. "I wonder how you are..."

I stand up slowly. My body immediatly carries me towards the shelve that holds the journal from Joe. I tuck my thumb under the binding and pull it out slowly until I have enough of it showing that I can grab a hold of the spine. I take it and stare at the cover for a few moments. I ease my body onto the floor right there. I don't feel like going back over to the bed. That dream was too intense for me. I flip through the pages, reading old entries briefly before turning a few more. I continue until I stumble upon an empty page. I take out the pen from the little strap that holds it and slowly begin to write about the nightmare.