The Art of Mending Memories

The Art of Mending Memories 35

The Art of Mending Memories

Chapter 35

Scenes changed rapidly before my eyes.  One minute I was standing in a field, the next, the world around me was blurring, and I was standing in a forest.  All the scenes were similar, and none of them were welcome.

I knew I was dreaming.  I knew, rationally, that I was not reliving that night.  But seeing his scarred face, over and over again was making that hard to believe.  When the other werewolf entered the scene—Aaron's father, I would remind myself with a shudder—I blanched.

I knew it was all in my head, but I also knew it was real.

I felt his hands on my face again, clamping painfully around my skull, holding open my eyelids to force me to watch the scene in front of me.  I heard my screams mingle with the screams of my parents.  My mother's eyes filled with horror when she realized what was happening.  She begged them not to make me watch.

But it was an execution.  Mortaziar punished them for giving life to the creature, my sister, that would rid him of his son and, eventually, his empire.  I was forced to watch as his hand, his human hand, reached into my parents' chests, and ripped out their hearts.  I was forced to watch them fall to the ground with holes where their hearts should have been, blood drowning their lifeless bodies.

I didn't want to watch this again.  I didn't want to relive that night.  I had to take control of my head.  I had to pull myself out.

The next thing I knew, I was slowly regaining consciousness.

I had fallen to the ground; of that I was sure.  So why did I feel the warmth and comfort of my bed surrounding me?  Why did I feel no aches and pains, not even the feeling of sore muscles?

What was that?  It was warm and moving.  A slow but pleasant rhythm against the palm of my hand.  It felt like a cloth-covered chest.  But that couldn't be.  What would a chest be doing in my bed?  Unless—

My eyes flew open and I screamed.

Aaron's shocked eyes flew open.  His grey pupils were no longer orbicular, but slits.  I kicked my legs, feeling them twisted in the sheets for a moment before they made contact with another pair of legs.  I tried to separate myself so quickly from Aaron that I fell off the bed and landed to the ground with a thud, the sheets still twisted around my legs, holding them against the side of the bed.

"Kaelyn?" Aaron yelled, throwing his arms out across the bed, trying to grab me.

I hit the hands as hard as I could and pulled my legs free of the sheets.  I scrambled back against the wall, only a few feet away from my bed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I yelled, my hands searching for something to defend myself with.  I only found a few paperback books, dirty socks, and pencils.

He  made a move closer to me. "I'm not—"

I threw a book at him, hitting him in the face and stopping his words.  I threw another one, and then a small hand full of pencils.  When he was distracted for a moment by the bombardment of objects, I scrambled from my place on the wall and ran to the door.

The damn wolf was faster.

Aaron grabbed me around the waist from behind.  "Wait, Kaelyn," he said in my ear.

"No," I screamed, trashing in his arms.  I threw my elbow up and made contact with his collar bone.  At the same time, I kicked out at him with my left leg and my foot hit his knee.

I heard Aaron cry out in pain and his hold on me loosened.  I pushed myself out of his arms and continued running for the door.

I made it to the hallway before he caught me again.

He grabbed hold of my wrist and pulled, forcing my body around to face him.  As soon as he did, his other hand grabbed hold of my upper arm.

"Kaelyn!" He called out.

I screamed wrenched my wrist out of his hold.  I realized Aunt Jane couldn't have been home—she would have answered by screams by then.

Aaron's hand let go of my upper arm, only to grab hold of my waist with each hand.   I tried getting out of his grasp but I couldn't.

I hit his chest with my fist.  Then with the other.  He didn't flinch.  I began hitting his chest with my fists as hard as I could, hoping he would let me go.

"Let me go," I scream madly. "Let. Me. Go. Let me go!"  I screamed the words over again every time my fists made contact with his chest.

But he just held onto me, letting me hit his chest will all my power.  Hit, after hit, after hit.  I pounded all my anger, all my frustration, all my fear, and all my hurt into my fists.  I hit him with everything I had in me.

I guess it was no surprise then that I started to cry.

I didn't realize it at first.  I could feel my energy and strength draining and knew my fists were losing their rage.  I knew my words were mumbling and that my vision was a blur.  I could feel my hands clutch at Aaron's shirt.  But I couldn't tell I was crying until Aaron pulled me against his chest, wrapping his warm arms around me.

He didn't say anything; just held me against him with his head upon mine.  I don't know how long I cried in his arms.  It felt so nice to let it all out.  I didn't think.  I doubted I could.  I poured all my emotions out in those tears, clutching the material of Aaron's shirt in my balled fists and soaking him with my salty tears.

After a long time I began to arrive at my senses.  Aaron was stroking my hair with a gossamer touch.  My gasping breath began to subside and I could feel the breath in my lungs again.

"I'm so weak," I whispered into his chest.

"No,"  Aaron replied. He took my head in his hands, wiping the tears with his thumbs. "You're the strongest person I know, Kaelyn."

Another tear slipped down my cheek.  Aaron wiped it with his thumb.

"No one else would have been able to live after what they did to you," he told me. "No one else would have had the strength."

I started to tremble and shake my head.  A sob broke out from me. I parted my lips to speak, only to receive a mouth full of my salty tears.

"Yes," Aaron said firmly. "You are strong.  Stronger than anyone else."

I simply stared at him through blurred eyes. "I'm not," I whisper.

Aaron smiled at me and laughed a little. "You're so strong, you won't even change sides on the topic, even though I'm right."

"But," I whispered as another tear falls from my eye.

"Shh," Aaron murmured.  He leaned down and kissed my cheek where the tear was. "Trust me on this one."

I finally released the material balled in my hands.  His shirt was stretched and folded to the ceases my hands had caused it.  I realized how wet his shirt had become and felt even weaker.  I looked down and wiped my hand across my face.

"I can't stop crying," I said as another tear slipped from my face.

Aaron took hold of my chin and tilted it up.  He kissed each cheek and looked at me.  Then he kissed my face again. "You don't have to.  Crying doesn't make you weak."

I wiped my hand across my face again, the tears no longer falling. "I don't like crying."

Aaron smiled at me and dropped his hands from my face.  He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me against his body.  He kissed the top of my head.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go make you some coffee."

We started walking. "Will you make me muffins, too?"

"No," he replied, "but I'll make you pancakes."

I felt my lips pull into a small smile. "That'd be nice," I whispered.

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I know.  It's short.  But I'm working on a huge chem paper and I have holiday things to do.

I hope you liked it despite its short length.  I had a bit of writer's block on this one, although I don't know why.  Thanks for reading.

And Happy Holidays!