*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 23 "Losing Humanity"
Saphira's POV:
I watch, transfixed as my breath moves the chocolatey liquid in front of me. The boiling drink burns my hands, but I don't move them.
I desire it: the feeling.
Judging by the concerned, heartbreaking glances given by Marlene, I don't think she quite understands the life I've been given.
How could she? I haven't told her. I haven't done anything to let her know about what's happened to me.
So really, taking Lana from me was the best decision for them... just not for me.
Yet, again, they don't know that.
"How can you sit there like nothing's wrong?"
I look up, meeting Todd's merciless glare with a blankness I didn't know existed. That hate in his voice, it's the same as my parents, and it's the same as the little voice in the back of my head, who tells me why I am like I am.
"Todd..." Marlene trails off, bloodshot gaze flickering toward Nate before shooting back over to her husband.
"He already knows, Mar!" he pushes his chair back, screeching across the floor, "Why not confront it? Nate's the one who told us. In my opinion, he should be here for this more than we should."
Marlene looks away, close to breaking down at what I'm guessing is earlier than planned.
Todd doesn't pay any mind, and it's now that I realise - if this had happened a week earlier, Todd would be comforting his wife in a heartbeat, but he's not. He's turned to me, a glint in his eyes I've only ever seen in my parents'.
Something strained and just waiting to explode, "You killed a man. You took a life, Saphira, and you expect us to be okay with you spending time with our children? Are you that delusional?"
I sigh, nibbling on my bottom lip as water pools in my eyes, "Yes, I killed a man. I did. And I... I don't expect you guys to be okay with me." I shake my head, letting out a breath of air mixed between a laugh and a sob. "Not anymore."
Todd scoffs, "Oh please. You're playing the 'broken teenager' act? Pathetic."
So I've been told. Yet, no one seems to take notice of the broken ones. We all are. In some way or another, and it doesn't matter if you're a teenager or middle aged, man or woman, we're all broken at something.
