Ditching Greek | editing

22| Protection

I wanted to laugh in his face...or faint after hearing what I did.

I shook my head at his words. I squeezed my eyes shut, "I'm not the girl. I'm not a descendant of a god, I'm not the girl," I repeated this over and over again, hoping for this all to be a bad dream and that I'd wake up soon, in my room and be away from here. "I'm n--"

A hand landed onto my shoulder, giving it a soft shake. I opened my eyes to see that nothing had changed from when I had first closed them. I was still on that goddamn hill with Clyde at my side.

"I'm not telling you have to believe me at this very moment, to be honestly, I didn't even think you'd let me explain things as far as I did," he confessed, then put his hand deep into his pocket, fishing into for something. "I don't know when you'll come to terms with this. It's inevitable. But in the mean time, I'd like for you to wear this."

He pulled out a little blue box and opened it. A ring band with two stones on either side of the gold ring simmered in the sunlight. They were red stones that I had never seen before. "Please have it."

"I-I can't," I struggled to find the right words. Why was he giving me a gift all of a sudden? None of his actions made sense. "I can't accept this."

Taking the ring out, he took my hand and slipped it into my ring finger on my left hand. "It's a ring Ancient Egyptian's believed that could protest whoever wore it."

I scoffed.

"What?" His face fell into a frown, "What's so funny?"

"It's funny how you think a silly little ring can save me of anything." I noted, watching the stone shimmer and twinkle under the sunlight. "I don't need saving."

"That's what you think now," he said while covered his hand over mine, "but now that you know, there's going to be a lot of people trying to get you to sway onto their side."

"Why is that?"

"Because, every time the darkness returns, it only comes from being summoned. There are people out there that want the death this dark spirit brings with it. They want the mortals to suffer. Not everyone in our world believes the humans need saving."

His eyes softened as he paused between his explanation. As crazy as everything was, I wanted to believe him, but there was no logic behind the nonsense he was blurting out at me. Nothing came out clear and reasonable. I had thought hearing his side of the story would make things easier for me, but all it did was question his sanity and wonder countless thoughts inside my head.

"If this is true--and I'm not saying it is, " I quickly added, "then why didn't I learn this earlier?You've obviously known a lot longer than me."

"Because that's just how things happened for the first couple."

"What if the gods were wrong about us?"

He shook his head, releasing my hand, "I think it's best I get you home."

"Wait, but--"

"No, Nabela," he said firmly, "let's go. And no more questions. I knew you wouldn't believe me."

I don't know what string I pulled, but it was very evident that I had said something wrong. Keeping my mouth shut, I got to my feet and went back to the car without saying a word to him.

....

It's been a week and a half since that day on the hill. Monica and Hazel have tried their best to get me to spill on what happened, but I refused to even take anything he had told me as the truth.

It was a lie, I kept telling myself. It was a lie. All of it. But no matter how hard I tried to discard it all off it as untrue, I couldn't help wonder if he was really making it all up, and if he did, then why were there so many people backing him up.

Classes started not too long after, and for the first time in my life, I'm was relieved at the fact that I was distracted with work. My paying internship at the Portland Tribune slowly became my home away from home as I stayed longer hours away from my apartment.

I had changed my cell phone number and deleted all of my old messages from Clyde that asked if I was okay.

My boyfriend had been informed by Monica on my sudden absence. It wasn't true though. She had said I had went on some trip with my mentor at the Tribune. Another lie I'd have to keep buried inside of me for the rest of my life.

"You've got a call," Hazel ran into my room, holding our landline. "It's important."

She had caught me on a rare weekend without having to leave for my internship.

"Who's calling?" I asked.

"Your dad."

"What?" I darted my eyes up from the book I was reading. "Do you mean Sarah...calling from my dad's number?" My father rarely called. Either my stepmother or sister kept tabs on me--never him.

"No. I mean your dad. He's worried. Monica thought it would be a good idea to inform him about what's been happening."