Blood Ties

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Layla twirled her knives soothingly, her half-lidded eyes narrowed and glued on Jake's face. The knives whished softly, filling the air with a sort of white noise. As she spun, she thought, her lips pressed tightly together. She felt at loss as to what to do next.

After all, the tables had never been reversed before. Layla had never had to comfort Jake; it was always the other way around. She wasn't good at comforting people, least of all someone she might call friend. She marveled at the fact that he didn't ask to leave, didn't try to sneak away.

"I'm considering," she remarked suddenly, dropping the knives carelessly. Jake flinched at the noise, his brows furrowing at her statement. He signed a word, but there was no need; the question was written all over his face. She continued in a softer voice, "I'm considering letting him know that you're not dead."

His eyes, bloodshot and swollen from crying, brightened slightly at the implications of her words. He signed again, desperately, but Layla did not need to see the words in his hands. "And yes. That does mean you may be able to see him."

The glad silent laughter that spilled from his lips was heartening, and she went on in a more confident voice, "I need him to trust me. I am more than my mother's daughter now." Her own words strengthened her as well, and she almost smiled. "How much more, I don't know. But more."

He nodded, grinning, and mouthed, Lots! His hands stretched wide as though to show her how much more she truly was. She inclined her head, refusing to react to his enthusiasm. "How do I earn his trust, though? Shall I say, 'Here, I know you thought Jake was dead, but he's not. I've just been hiding him from you all these years. Surprise!'"

Jake made a face, shaking his head emphatically. Layla smirked a bit, reiterating in a quiet voice, "That was sarcasm, Jake." She bent over, retrieving her knifes and whisking them into their normal hiding places: her boot, her belt, her sleeves, and her shirt. "But really. You know him. What should I do?

"I suppose," she went on talking as though Jake had replied, "that the first step is to overcome his suicidal tendencies. That's rather bad. But you can do that, and the princess –that has nothing to do with me. After that, all I have to do is get him on board with my plan. Which is half-baked and very insane. Easy, right?" Jake flashed her two thumbs up, winking. "Thank you, Jake." Then, straightening and taking a deep breath, she strode from the room.

Jake hesitated, signing a few words to the air, and then followed after her.

You can do so much more than you know...now that you aren't your mother's daughter.

                                                                        ******

Almost drowning really sapped one's energy; Marco nearly regretted throwing himself among those waves. The only thing he truly regretted was that they had found him before he had time to properly drown.

He leaned against the side of the bed, his eyelids fluttering in an attempt to stay awake. He knew that if he sat somewhere more comfortable, like the bed or even the chair, he would be dragged into oblivion. Sleeping was, if it were possible, a worse torture than being conscious. But despite his valiant efforts, a nightmare took hold and pulled him into the darkness. The nightmare wasn't anything particular; it was more of everything at once: his mother, his father, his friend, and his brother. The two men he had killed in cold blood. Their faces and their screams reverberated through his dreams until he was awakened by a soft hushing noise.

His eyes flew open gladly, only to widen at the sight of Layla's face mere inches from his own. She had a finger to her smirking lips, and she continued to, "Shhh" him in the most patronizing way.