Sweet Innocence and Gentle Sin || 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

Chapter 41: To Hate To Love

TW for slight religious and definite cannibalistic themes and a panic attack

And I lie to her and say that I'm doing fine. When, really, I'd kill myself to hold you one more time. And it hurts to miss you, but it's worse to know that I'm the reason you won't come home.

~)(~

I fought the urge to bite my gloved nails as anxiety pulsed through every nerve beneath my skin. I stood with my hands tightly clasped in front of me, forcing a smile that made my cheeks ache. All I wanted was to tear off the bedazzled, delicate cape that scratched my arms and rubbed against my neck in a vise. At least the dress was made of loose-fitting silk with straps I could place my fleeting trust in.

A hand pressed against my back, and I didn't flinch because I knew it was him before he even touched me—a horrible realization. I looked over and happily snatched the glass of champagne he held.

"You're welcome," Azriel said, his voice lower than usual. It made me feel things I really wished it wouldn't.

I took a sip and smiled. "Just had to check first. Thank you."

"I'm wise enough not to try convincing you that water is wine." He smiled, looking at me with those gentle, kind eyes I thought only remained in my dreams. Perhaps this was a dream, too, and I would awaken to the lulling crash of waves and the salt-covered stone of my old home, still a girl able to wish, able to hope. But that was a dream in itself—to realize as I wake that my entire life and the pain I endured was simply a bittersweet nightmare.

I turned my attention to the room, saying, "Strangely, I'm not surprised there's a theater here. The palace would be lacking without it."

Azriel chuckled and looked at the oddly shaped chandelier that pathetically illuminated the room. Overlapping swirls of iridescent blue painted the ceiling, and golden stars scattered and twinkled like they were real.

He cleared his throat and offered an arm. "Shall we?" With a laugh, I linked my elbow with his, failing to hide a smile.

Upon taking our seats in one of the upper balcony boxes, I realized that I was too nervous to sit still. I started bending and crumpling the program, unable to ease my growing anxiety. For some reason, I was suddenly terrified—panicked.

I wanted to hyperventilate, to scream. It came on so suddenly, making my heart pound in my ears like a hammer. I shuddered, unable to think beyond the constant reminder to breathe, just breathe.

The lights dimmed, making the room feel smaller—too small. Like waking from a long nap, the music started slowly building until it crescendoed with a shrill of strings. It was too loud, making my head vibrate.

The curtains rose to reveal beautifully dressed dancers surrounded by a lake scene. I felt overwhelmed, lost in trying to focus on too many moving pieces. As the dancers gracefully moved across the stage, my eyes darted back and forth, struggling to keep up.

Every movement, every note, felt like a bombardment assaulting my already overwhelmed senses. The stage blurred into a mess of color as I fought to breathe. My chest became tight as if I was suffocating.

It felt like something was choking me; the scratchy collar of my cape gnawed at my neck like an insatiable beast, weighing down my chest to make it impossible to breathe. My dress twisted uncomfortably around my body, tangling me into a spider's web.

There was no escape. The music swelled, piercing my ears as if it were mocking me. I tried to calm myself and steady my trembling hands, but nothing worked. This panic had taken hold of me, its grip unyielding. My breaths were quick and shallow, and I resisted the urge to flee, to tear at my chest and neck in an attempt to ease the pressure.