Tides of Betrayal

Chapter 3

I wake with the sun hitting my eyes, lifting the blanket that I definitely did not have on me last night. Every event that occurred in the past few hours flashes through my mind and I have never felt as much shame as I do right now.

Most importantly, I feel utterly and hopelessly confused. I was screwed over by the one person who has been consistent in my life and uplifted by a man who has been making digs at me ever since we met at the library five years ago. My life feels like it's in shambles, well, that's dramatic but I do feel like my universe is just a little off-centered.

I stumble around as I quickly get dressed. I quietly tip-toe into his living room, carefully trying not to wake a sleeping Caston on the couch. I study his even breaths as he sleeps, watching the rise and fall of his chest. I hate that I'm doing this, I hate that I am watching him just because I can. Because I'm in his apartment. However, I don't even have an answer as to why he has an apartment here in the first place. Motives, I remind myself. Focus on his motives, on mine, and on everyone else's in my life.

I don't want to wake him but I also need to get back to Lyrithia, so I reluctantly reach a hand out to Caston's back, poking him with my pointer finger. He mumbles something and rolls over. I decided to do the next best thing. I walk over to a cabinet in the kitchen, take out a glass, fill it with water, and without hesitation, pour it on his face.

He wakes with a jolt, flinging his blanket to the ground and rising to his feet. His eyes are huge and wary. He eyes me with a panicked look, "What the hell was that for?!" He asks as his voice cracks, making my insides tingle.

"I needed to wake you up quickly, so I can go home," I say with a straight face, trying to hide my laugh. "You didn't wake up when I poked you."

"So your next resort was to pour water on me?" Caston asks in disbelief. I nod and suppress a smile. He shakes his head and starts folding the blanket he used last night. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?" He asks as he throws the folded blanket on the back of the couch.

"I'm okay, thank you," I responded.

"Well, let me get dressed and then we can go back together," Caston says as he heads for the bathroom. While he gets dressed, I slowly walk to his mantle, inspecting the photos that I did not notice last night. There are three photos, all in a simple solid gold frame. The one in the middle features him and a dozen other people, all wearing the same black leather jackets with a red shirt underneath. There's a patch on the right side of everyone's jackets, all on the shoulder. I can't make out the symbol- I wonder if it's some sort of club.

The photo to the left is of a younger version of him, with two people that I could only assume are his parents. It looks like they're at the waterfall in the Seafarer Wards. When was this? It's like he has a second life outside of Lyrithia, a nice one at that. The photo to the right is of him and another female. She is a few inches shorter than him, but she looks strong, too. They're also standing in the Seafarer Wards, but by the water where the giant anchor lies.

This giant anchor is a tourist attraction and lots of people travel to the Seafarer Wards to get a picture with it. I have no idea where or who it came from - it seems like it just showed up one day. I wouldn't be surprised if the merchants started charging tourists per picture. I also wonder if in this photo with the anchor, it could be Caston's sister, it would be extremely awkward if it wasn't - considering they look very similar.

"She was beautiful, wasn't she?" Caston says from behind me. I jolt and turn around, feeling guilty even though I didn't do anything wrong. I know he wasn't really asking me, but I nod. I so badly want to ask who she was and what happened, but the look of pain on his face stops me.

"Don't look at me like that." He says sharply.

"Like what?"

"Like you feel bad. You don't know me. You don't even have a good enough reason to feel anything other than anger. I treat you like shit, little ember." He says with a scowl. I can't argue with the fact that he does treat me like shit, but I can't stand the fact that he's telling me how to feel. You know what they say about glass houses...