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chapter forty-four. . . everything comes with a price
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A GASP ESCAPED, it was sharp, a lot of breath put into as her chest heaved. Her fist was clenched, her hair tossed, her lips chapped from dryness and her eyes was only fragile to the light which shined above her. She sat up slowly, and her brunette locks falling on her back her eyes begun to exam around her unusual setting. She couldn't exactly put her mind on where she as. The surrounding darkness felt lonely, as it was quiet and it seemed to be just one person sitting in an empty space.
Malia Bellerose had finally straightened her spine upwards, and some locks of her hair, fell into her face, covering the corner of her eyes, which didn't cause too much blockage for her vision. Her hands were stuck to her sides as she swallowed, feeling the dryness of her throat which she needed to moisturise.
Never had she seen a place like she was seeing, she didn't know exactly what to do either. But she soon pushed herself onto her bare feet, where at first she stumbled, before she had caught herself from falling. She cleared her throat, which only echoed throughout the empty space before she heard it. Her name. "Malia?" It came out as a whisper, but in the place she was in, it seemed as if it was shouted. Her head whipped around, believing that there was someone standing behind her.
Nothing. No one was there. Nothing was there. Just darkness. "H—." Her mouth had opened in that second and her mind ready to speak, unlike her voice. Her voice was rasped, and she found it hard to even make a sound. It hurt too much. "He—."
"Save your voice, Malia." She pivoted back on her feet as she furrowed her brows. That voice. It was nothing similar to the ones she heard in her. The voices were different. More haunting than facts being told. Who was it? Who else was here with her? Questions she didn't have answers for.
"W—." Her hand wrapped around her throat, caressing it, as if she was trying to comfort the pain. But it didn't work. It hurt, her voice hurt so much, from the last time she had used it. When she had killed Jonathan in the body of Sebastian Verlac. "Who...?" She finally let out a word, and she wouldn't be exaggerating when she thought it was like Christmas had come early. She still had her voice.
Heavy breathing down her neck had caught her attention, making her stiffen. Who was behind her? Who else was with her? "I said to save your voice." As she quickly spun on her feet and faced the person behind the voice she furrowed her brows. A paled fall framed, red haired boy with a sharp jawline was staring back at her with a concerned look plastered across his face. She didn't know who was standing in front of her. She didn't know who it was. And it caused her breath to hitch in her throat. His eyes were narrowed on her, carrying a haunting look of pain but he was in concern of her. "Your supposed to listen to your big brother."
Malia couldn't save her voice if standing before her was Jonathan. She had killed him. He was supposed to be dead and now he stood in front of her. "Jonathan?"
