Twenty Eight - Dual POVs

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Aurora

"Don't l-leave me, Ian!" A small voice, probably my own, hiccups. I'm being held like a small child in my brother's arms. I realise that I am a small child and this is another memory of mine. 

The darkness surrounding me is suffocating and I hide my tear stricken face in the crook of Caspian's neck. A very young Caspian.

"I'm here, Rory." He assures me, patting my back gently. He's taking me somewhere and I hope it's far away from that monster I just saw.

"I thought mom asked you to stay in your room, what were you doing out there?" Caspian grumbles angrily and my eyes prickle with more tears. 

I wish I had a good enough excuse for being out but I don't. I was a silly goose and I didn't listen to Mamma.

"I w-was looking f-for mamma.." I howl, embarrassed and terrified. Caspian doesn't say anything and lets me cry.

"What's going on? Rory?" I hear Mamma's voice and without even looking, I leap out of Caspian's embrace and find safety in the arms of my Mamma. 

I cling onto her, breathing in her soothing scent but my body is trembling uncontrollably. I want to tell her what the monster said to me but my cries are making it hard to get the words out.

"Run, little one. Don't let me catch you."

Blood runs cold in my veins hearing those exact same words that have unwillingly become a part of my life. The phantom gust of wind forces me to stagger backwards until the rough edge of the desk bites into my lower back. I wasn't sure what the outcome of my book throwing was going to lead me to but I wasn't expecting this. 

A visceral reminder of the countless dreams—nightmares—where I woke up screaming and crying because someone was after me. So many nights where I would refuse to go back to sleep and have Aunt Clara read me bedtime stories instead. 

Or some nights where I'd just go sit with Uncle Noah while he worked late. He'd never ask me anything and just let me cuddle next to him until I eventually went to sleep. 

I know it's not easy to just pinpoint the exact thing that caused all those nightmares, but I'm sure of one thing—I was always running from something. Or someone

I inhale sharply, my body beginning to show the first signs of tremors. My shadow appears to shrink in front of me and despite knowing it's early morning, I feel like I'm trapped inside my own nightmare.

Suddenly, I'm that little Aurora roaming the empty halls and seeing the monster. I'm that weak little girl who couldn't control herself around candy and always landed into trouble. 

Little Aurora who cried into her brother's arms like a baby because the monster was after her. For once, I want to wail like that little girl from my childhood so I can be saved once again. 

My bottom lip trembles involuntarily and I try my hardest not to let the gates holding my tears open. 

The man in question watches me with such intensity, I can feel myself crumbling slowly under it. It's the kind of gaze that sets its mark on every inch of your skin like a brand. A touch of possessiveness, a way to claim what doesn't belong to you. 

It's a challenge and a threat to see what I'll do next.

One thing is for sure though—I will not cry in front of him. Hell will freeze over and cars will start flying before I shed a tear in front of someone like him. Because powerful men such as him enjoy hurting others just because they can. 

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