The Lost: Book Two of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 19

The water was soothing, with heavy layers of chamomile and jasmine enveloping me in a warm embrace. I could feel the soft caress of the bubbles and the silky touch of the water massaging my muscles as it lapped tenderly against my skin.

Through fluttering eyelids that resisted consciousness, I stared numbly at the bathroom over the edge of the porcelain tub. White candles flickered gently and I watched the tiny flames emit their comforting glow across the deep red and cream brocade wallpaper. An ornately framed mirror decorated the wall above the marble basin and a foggy haze of condensation covered the glass, clouding the room's reflection. In the corner stood a large antique dresser, upon which was an intricately painted vase with a gilded rim, bursting with beautiful cream roses. I recalled touching petals just like them before, relishing the feeling of velvety softness under my fingertips. The memories tugged painfully on my mind and I struggled to banish them from my head, not wanting to remember.

The shadows twisted and danced on the walls and I closed my eyes, fearful of the darkness they created because it evoked nothing but images of pain and blood. Curling up tighter, I pulled my knees towards my chest, leaning into the firm body upon which I rested. He stiffened momentarily, before relaxing, allowing me to seek sanctuary against familiar skin. Fingers tentatively stroked my shoulder, brushing down my arm and I whimpered as they passed over bruised flesh. The whimper turned into a sob and as he pulled me into his embrace, I turned my face into his chest and wept. I wept until my throat hurt. I wept until his heart stopped beating so ferociously and grew calmer in my ear. I wept until I was exhausted from weeping and fell into blissful unconsciousness.  And the whole time, he didn't let go and I felt as if I was home again.

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I was lost in a world halfway between consciousness and slumber. There was something so easy about this place. It required little effort, like walking languidly through a field of tall grass, feeling the sun on your back and hearing the sound of summer all around you. The low thrum of crickets, the soft song of birds, the rustle of the grass against your clothes. And as you walk, you inhale deeply, digesting the sweet scent of the meadow. You could walk and walk here, and never tire. So very easy.

From somewhere far off, I heard a siren. It cut through like nails on a chalkboard, the sound sharp and grating. I hesitated, the long grass scratching against my thighs, my brow crinkling as I fought to remember why I was here. It was simpler, less painful, to forget and just keep walking. But still the siren howled, getting louder by the second until I clapped my hands over my ears, spinning around as my world grew smaller and the darkness began creeping all around me. I watched as it grew closer and closer. The siren was screaming now, like countless cries for help, a multitude of tortured voices reaching out for me and underneath it all, a smell, like sulphur only more acrid and I knew it. I knew it.

I opened my eyes and found myself staring directly into his.

Brandon smiled, his head resting on the plump white pillow next to mine. With a gasp, I scrambled backwards, getting twisted in the crisp white bed sheets that had been tucked tightly between the mattress and the bedstead and in sheer panic, my gasp quickly turned into a scream. Brandon was upon me before I could free myself, straddling my thighs and grasping my wrists, pinning them above my head. I desperately tried to thrash about underneath him, still shrieking, but he held me expertly with one hand and clapped the other over my mouth. His hair was damp, wet ringlets curling onto his face.

"Sshhh," he hushed. "And quit fighting. I don't want to tie you up, but I will if I have to." His eyes sparkled as they flickered over my face and I stared back at him, horrified and repulsed by the taste of his skin on my mouth. His gaze wandered downwards and I was horribly aware that I was naked and that the covers were now tangled up around my waist. He smiled again, lowering himself until his face was just a couple of inches from mine and I could feel his hips pressing against my own.