*Book 1*
*Completed but Editing*
Saphira Colby doesn't actually exist. The memories she comes up with, the family she describes and the appearance she takes on isn't real. It's a disguise. A disguise to hide the real her, the her that's being hunted...
The wall in front of her soul wasn't always there.
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Chapter 11 "Reiteration"
Saphira's POV:
I left after Nate said what he did, walking straight out of their study and into my room. I made myself focus on the fact that I still don't know what's inside two of those locked doors. The third one is the study, but when I asked, Nate pretended he didn't hear me.
I made myself think about the history assignment instead of the boy I'm doing it with. To not recollect anything that he's done or said since I met him and just keep everything neutral. Those butterflies that turned up were just nerves about whether or not we'll fail that assignment.
The only problem with making myself think is the fact that I now can't stop.
I sigh quietly, turning onto my back as sleep continues to evade me. My eyes flicker away from the pristine white ceiling, reading the time on the docking station next to me.
2:43am.
I groan softly, picking up a heavy hand and wiping it down my face. The action only makes a yawn to open my mouth, the sound echoing through the bedroom. However, no matter how many times I yawn, my eyes just won't stay shut.
I exhale deeply, swinging my legs out of the comfort of my sheets. My feet sink into the carpet as I stand and I stretch my arms over my head. A sound of satisfaction escapes my mouth as my back cracks and I pad over to the door.
I make sure I'm quiet as I exit my room, tiptoeing down the wooden stairs. I reach the kitchen without a hitch, only to freeze mid-step as I walk in. The figure standing in front of me doesn't know I'm here. I swallow thickly, blood pumping harshly through my body as I prepare myself for whatever is about to happen.
I flick the light on, my heart in my throat as the figure jumps in the unexpected glow. I squint, my body alert. My shoulders instantly relax and a small sigh escapes my lips as I see the startled face of Nate.
"What are you doing up?" I question, a small frown marring my face. I don't take my eyes off him as I head towards the kettle, craving something hot and full of chocolate.
"I could ask you the same question," he avoids my question, following my every move with calculating grey eyes.
"Touché," I mutter, putting drinking chocolate in a mug. The weight of his gaze is heavy and I peer at him through the corner of my eye. The kitchen light hits his tanned chest and it's only then do I realise that he's not wearing a shirt.
