The Girl In The Meadow

Chapter 43

Alayna

Thursday 1st October, 828 AUC

My eyelids fluttered open as I curled into myself, clutching my legs in bed. Consciousness brought confusion before I remembered why the darkness had engulfed me. The darkness was a good thing. I wanted it back.

I nudged myself toward the edge of the bed; the tug on my stitches sent a dull ache spiralling up my leg. From my drawer, I pulled a bottle of Tintion and grimaced before downing it–the bitterness barely registered before it washed away the throbbing pain I didn't realise was everywhere until the potion worked.

Stripping off my clothes stiff with dried blood, an involuntary shiver passed through me. Not all of the blood was mine. I claw viciously at my skin as if it would make me cleaner; I had killed a woman so easily tonight. I remember thinking she looked a bit like me when I used to be a bit pretty as she lay gasping at my feet...

The thought of Tiv's face–another Lambentian I'd nearly put down–knotted around my throat like a noose. Each breath became a gasp under the weight of what I could have done; his blood on my hands; life snuffed out by whatever I had become.

A monster.

Nothing would make me feel clean again.

I grabbed a bottle of water from my desk anyway soaking myself and scrubbing at the crimson away with a clean t-shirt. The fabric stuck to the dried blood as I went.

Sobbing quietly, a quiet knock at the door froze me.

"I'm fine, Dad," I said quickly.

"It's me," Ben murmured.

Grabbing a fresh T-shirt, I forced myself not to shake. Cracking open the door revealed only a sliver of his face.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"I've been better." The words were hollow.

"Sorry," he breathed.

"Everyone copes with stress differently." I shrugged.

"Don't do that," he replied quietly–a plea dressed as admonishment.

"It's fine. Just go before we wake Dad up and he throws you out again," I said.

"I was angry today because I thought that Hawes brat had hurt you. Not that you had let him go. I wanted to find him to stop him from ever hurting you again. But then I hurt you. I don't think you're spying for them. I just–I dunno what I was thinking. I'll tell Aaron I was chatting shit. I'll tell them all I was. I know I haven't handled anything very well... since Hayley died." His voice broke on the last word.

Silently, I thought again about how infallible Ben was. Maybe that was the problem. I knew how much worse I got the harder I tried to hold myself together.

"Sorry about Michael."

"Me too," he whispered. "I'm gonna stay here tonight. Or maybe for a while if Leesa crashes on the sofa... if I'm allowed."

"Will Leesa be okay?" This time my voice cracked.

He stiffened, "Yeah. I lied. She'll be fine. It'll be alright."

It'll be alright. Ben's favourite fucking lie.

"I don't think you're well," I whispered eventually, trying to hold together the chasm opening in my chest.

"I don't think I am either," was all he muttered as he walked down the hall to his old room.

I locked the door and slumped against it, hugging my knees close again. I played with the beads at my neck and wondered if Tiv's death would have sent me as mad as Ben had gone. Then I remembered the explicit thoughts of hurting Ben if he had touched Tiv.

A sudden noise at the window pulled me from my morbid daydreams. Darting behind the closet door, I heard the window slide open with a low moan. An icy gust blew out the weak candles, plunging the room into darkness. Something bad was here. Like a sixth sense, I registered that whatever was in my room was worse than Umbrith. Frozen by the sudden darkness, all rational thought left my body. All I wanted was a candlelight flicker. Something small to illuminate the room.

You're going to die. You're going to die. You're going to die.

Thankful I kept an arsenal of weapons in my room, I crouched down and quickly found a small dagger on the closet floor. Something crossed my room so I jumped out from the wardrobe, knife ready, but found nothing there. Panic surged as my eyes frantically tried to adjust to the dark. The air in the room held a chill that sunk into my bones, making my skin prickle as if brushed with frost.

A sudden grip on my arm wrenched the dagger away, spinning me around as a hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my scream and slamming me against the wardrobe.

"Don't move," he said, voice a gravelled whisper.

My eyes met Tiv's and if I'd thought they were cold earlier, now they were deep wells of glacial hatred.

He slowly removed his hand and growled, "We need to talk."

Confusion and fear tangled in my throat. Silence stretched between us as I thought about my options:

1) Fight him–but even with Tintion's help he might be stronger.

2) Call for Ben–but I'd die.

3) Shut the fuck up and hope the best.

Each tick of time intensified the throbbing ache at my wrist, pinned to the door and I wondered if Tiv's head was as loud as mine in the silence. A weird grief crashed over me as I realised he'd just not had the opportunity to kill me before so he'd come to finish the job.

I wished I could've known what happened between meeting Tiv and now. The lows of loving him finally were worse than the highs. Murdered by the person I loved most in the world. My enemy. But even if loving him was the stupidest decision of my life I couldn't exactly turn it off now. That didn't mean I was going to make it easy for him.

"Just be quick," I taunted, moving his hand that clasped the dagger to my throat.

I looked directly at him. If I was going to die, he was going to watch me and live with it.