Out of the Lamp

Chapter 33: Reunited

//AN: I cba to proof read this for grammar/sleeping errors and plot holes. So be warned of a very shoddy chapter that is probably rushed af.

I keep meaning to go back and flesh out the first few chapters. Some of the characters need more early development and presence - as you will see.

For now, this'll do. So i hope you enjoy and please vote/comment! Thanks for joining me <3 //

***

Pulling my body back into its own time isn't as easy as sci-fi movies make it look.

Imagine reducing and squeezing your entire mass to fit through a wormhole like space. Condensing every fibre of your being into stringy rope-like strands in order to thread yourself through the fabric of time. To stitch yourself back from whence you came.

Ever seen an octopus squish itself through a tube? Look it up - because it's worse than that.

Well that's exactly what it was and how it felt. Leaving me breathless and boneless as I was spat out the other side, unconscious of course. Somewhere along the line I'd knocked out cold.

My eyes feel sticky and heavy as light dances in front of closed lids. Slowly I force them open. Everything is blurry and pixelated. But colours come through sharp and vibrant.

Blonde-pink hair.

Worried cerulean eyes.

"Cupid?"

He heaves a dramatic sigh, "she lives!"

A long, tortured groan scrapes past my lips. Everything hurt. Everywhere. Even my hair follicles. Every cell in my body was out for the count.

"Where am I?"

"The infirmary at the Bureau. You've only just come back, collapsed in your living room where Alissa found you."

That brings a tiny smile to my face. Of course the She-wolf would be waiting. My unofficial guardian.

"I'm here," Her voice pipes up, "not that anyone asked, but I am." She bobs into my line of vision and I can just about tell her face is equal parts worry and elation. "You did it!" She breathes out, looking every bit the proud wolf.

My eyes close as my features scrunch up in a frown. How? It doesn't make sense...I only...remember...dying.

The shock of this realisation sends a tremor through my body. Cupid grips my hand and squeezes tightly. "Don't dwell on that, Alia. It's not safe."

I know exactly what he means. No one is supposed to recall their dying moments, trial or otherwise. It wasn't natural, it wasn't safe. Even the dead don't remember their last living seconds, and there's a damned good reason for it. Usually it drives you out of your ever loving mind.

We remember things to live. In order to survive. Learn from experiences and grow. It's how we adapt and recognise good from bad. It's how we form our personalities and preferences of likes and dislikes. Memories. And sometimes we must forget in order to survive. The minds own defence mechanism to protect itself and to shield us from memories so cruel and unkind, they would inflict nothing but damage and torture. Ones own death was such a memory.