*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...
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Chapter 17 "Inabilities"
Saphira's POV:
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The sound of the clock in the kitchen travels underneath my door and into my ears. The house is silent. So silent that I can hear the time sail by.
It goes slowly, yet quickly at the same time. It's like an out of body experience. I'm looking down on myself as I curl up into the sheets of my bed, burying my head in the pillow to try and escape the ways of my mind. But I'm living it at the same time.
Words fell on deaf ears, and one word responses were the only things Nate could get out of me. It didn't take long for him to figure that out. He spent an hour talking to me. Telling me things I can't even remember right now.
He left not long after I told him that I was just tired.
We both knew sleep isn't something that could fix that, but he walked out anyway, sending me a final look of desperation before shutting the door.
Now it's seven hours later and sleep hasn't pulled me under its wing.
For now, the world has drained me of everything that I am.
I sigh, my body sinking deeper into the mattress as I clench the doona in my fist. I watch my knuckles bleach white, feeling my chipped nails dig into the skin of my palms. The sting is welcoming, and I close my eyes, relishing the feeling. It lets me know I'm still alive. I'm alive and despite being dead on the inside, I'm still alive.
But it's not enough.
It's just not enough.
"No," I gasp, shooting up to a sitting position so quickly I almost get whiplash. I release my hands, heart a gallop in my chest at the quickly reddening skin. I swallow thickly, a heaviness building up behind my eyes at the close to torn flesh.
I shake my head, bottom lip wobbling as I fight back tears. Shaky fingers slide across the marks I made on myself, as if they can take back what I almost succeeded in doing to myself.
I close my eyes, head lolling forwards at the swirling of regret and longing inside my ribcage. It's an unpleasant feeling, wanting to do something you know you'll wish you didn't do the second after the deed is done.
His name is on the tip of my tongue, begging to be called. But then I imagine how he'd react if I asked for help.
Deep grey eyes filling with a warm pain for someone he cares about, but that girl only feels cold. He would try to turn the eternal winter storm inside my dreary home into a magical summer's rain. And I don't think he'd be able to succeed. But, after my brief time in knowing him, Nate wouldn't give up until I've dragged him down to hell with me.
