To Raise the Dead- Book Three

Ch. 21- The Devils in my Bed

"As I found the tenderness and the sadness of love earlier than anyone else, so I age before anyone else."

***
I screamed, pulled my hair until it was a mess. I threw my desk chair across the room, shattering it into pieces. When it broke, I pushed everything off of the desk, breaking glass everywhere on the floor. I didn't care, I just wanted to let this rage out.

Beside the bed was a lamp, and I threw it too, making it fall to the ground with a loud thump. I pulled apart my bedsheets and pillows and I wanted everything to be ruined. I dropped the picture of my parents on the floor, going to the closet and picking apart the clothes my mother wore and tearing it apart.

When I was in my room again, I grabbed a broken piece of wood on the floor and was about to break the balcony door. But a pair of hands stopped me as it made me drop it to the ground below me.

I turned around to see Sebastian right there, standing over me with a worried look on his face. I tried picking the wooden stick up again, not letting the anger slide out just yet. I wasn't done. Sebastian tried to pin me down, wanting me to stop making so much noise. But I didn't let him.

As I stumbled out of his grasp, I walked to the other side of my bedroom. "I can't believe it—my own mother!" I said, taking out my copy of Alice in Wonderland and ripping it to shreds.

Sebastian stood there, not uttering a word. He listened to my malice of my parents, rambling about the bad deeds they did.

Looking at my own hands, I was shaking. My whole body was. Tears streamed down my face at whole speed, trying to figure out what exactly I did. The next thing I know it, I was on the floor with a hand over my mouthy, trying not to sob loudly.

"Their memory helped me fight the war," I said through the pain. I ran my hands through my hair, Sebastian crouching beside and holding me like it was the only thing that mattered. "I cried over them and grieved for them. All of it was for nothing,"

"It wasn't for nothing," he whispered over my silent cries.

"How can she be heartless towards you, and my father speaking nothing about it? I cannot believe it," He caressed my cheek, wiping tears away from my face. "I thought they were better than that."

"Some creatures are too focused on the past and what people should or shouldn't marry," he said.

"She looked at me like she was never going to change her mind about us," I whispered. "My own mother looked at me like she hated me for choosing you."

"Elora, look at me," he said quietly. I did. "I love you. I can say it a thousand times and I won't grow tired of saying it. We are going to get married in the springtime, where my girl can look as beautiful as the flowers while the sun is shining over her. Parents or not, I will stand on that alter and say my vows to you. There is nothing stopping me, not even a prejudicial mother and father. Since I met you, I have longed for that day and it will come. I will stand with you for the rest of our immortal lives."

Tears were in my eyes, happy tears. The way he spoke, it was like poetry in a book. I didn't know what to say, I did not know I could ever feel so much for someone until I met him. As I stared at him, I realize, just a little, that he had bags under his eyes and he looked older than the last time I saw him.

"You have lived 500 years already, you really want to live 500 more with me?" I asked.

"Forever."