Rebellion

Chapter Fourteen: Luke

Chapter Fourteen: Luke

            By the time we reached the next town, the circles under my eyes were dark smudges that didn’t leave, a memento of nights I tried in vain to sleep. I separated myself from Adelena, brushing off her concern before shutting myself away in my own room at yet another dingy inn.

            I sat at the edge of the bed, looked at my shaking hands, and tried to convince myself I didn’t need a fix.

            Adelena’s confession had been a turning point between us. She’d bared her soul, seeking redemption, if only in my eyes. And in doing so, she’d only sent me to the edge of the abyss I’d confronted so many times.

            Failure, my brain sneered at me. How can you even claim her as a kindred soul? Her actions are justified. Yours are not.

            I struggled to push the thoughts away, but they persisted.

            Your own father is disgusted by you. He thinks you’re weak. You’re nothing but a weak, spineless, cowardly boy who will forever be overshadowed by his best friend. Your father loves Edward. Edward is the son he wishes he had. You’re just the one he got stuck with.

            I dug my nails into my palms, barely wincing at the welling crescents of blood. I am not weak.

            Oh, but you are, it mocked, laughing at me. You’re too weak to face reality. Why do you think you keep coming back?

            I don’t need you.

            But you do.

            I stood and paced, struggling against the urge to find the cesspool I knew would be somewhere here, just as in every other city.

            I don’t need it, I repeated to myself like a mantra. Across the room and back again. I don’t need it. To the door, grab the handle, let it go, bolt the door. I don’t need it.

            Lie on the bed, clutch the headboard like a lifeline, drown my scream of frustration in the pillow.

            I don’t need it.

            I tried to control the shaking that had spread to the rest of my body, tried to tell myself that I could sleep without it tonight.

            Please, Ailune, save me from myself. Don’t let me give in again. Give me strength.

            I closed my eyes and prayed for sleep, for natural oblivion to banish the craving that had started in my core.

            I don’t want this. I never wanted this.

            But you did.

            I jerked my eyes open and stumbled from the bed, crossing the room to the little table where the washbasin and pitcher sat. I tried to convince myself that the cold water would snap me out of it, would cleanse my sins and set me free.

            My hands shook too much, and the pitcher slipped from my hands, shattering into a thousand pieces against the floor.

            I stared at it for a long moment, feeling my reason and morals fragment once again, as I gave in to the chasm of need that was calling my name.

*

            The first time, I hadn’t known what it could do. I’d been seeking an escape from the ever-mounting pressure. I couldn’t live up to my father’s expectations, half of myself was missing, I was forced to fill shoes I could never reasonably fill.