Page 18 of He Will Always Love Me

I recoil away from her, staring mutely at my corrupted hands. The bony protrusions are a shock. Where is my smooth, unmarred skin?

“Augh!” I scream in anger and despair. “This isn’t me, this isn’t me!”

“Hey, calm down,” Alana coaxes, clearly afraid. “It was just a dream.”

“No,” I yell. “It was more, so much more. This isn’t me. This is not who I am!” I know it’s not Alana’s fault, but the anger in me is a boiling, seething, living entity that coils around my heart. And it is demanding release.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re awake now,” she assures me.

She tries to reach out and touch me, but I recoil. I don’t want her to see me this way, but more, I don’t want to hurt her. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss.

“What is it?” she asks.

The question throws me off guard, and for a split second, the dream dances at the edge of my vision. It’s already skipping away, and I can almost convince myself it was just that. A dream.

But something that has been stirring in me since she mentioned the Ishani. I can remember it now, though it feels like another lifetime.

I was not always the creature they made me.

“Hey, I’m Alana,” she replies. “Remember, your fated mate? You can tell me.”

All I can do is stare at her in reply. How could I explain when I'm not sure I can explain to myself?

All I know is that I desperately want to remember it. To memorize the details. The snow-capped mountains and the glittering strands of water. But it is already evaporating. Unraveling in my mind's eye. The fragmented pieces fly away from me as I reach for them.

“No, no, no,” I say, as the dream slips from my grasp like water.

“Are you okay?” asks Alana.

I look at her like she’s crazy. No, of course, I’m not okay! I want to scream. But the terror in her eyes stops my tongue.

“Did you bang your head when we crashed?” she asks with concern.

“What?” I don’t understand the question. I feel disoriented and slightly nauseous. The dream seemed so real. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve awoken in the wrong body.

“Let me have a look at your head,” she says gently inching toward me and slowly raising her hand like she would to a wild animal.

The gesture annoys me. She doesn’t understand, yet I feel on a deep soul level that she should. That she is the one person in this universe who should. I have so many things I want to say to her, but no words to express any of them.

I brush her hand aside. “I’m fine,” I tell her gruffly.

“Talk to me,” she says. “Tell me what’s going on for you.” Her eyes look into mine, pleading with me to understand.

Inside I am a maelstrom of emotion and grief. I can’t explain to myself, let alone to Alana, what is going on with me.

“This isn’t who I am,” I tell her earnestly. “I used to be someone else. I had a good life. A better life. I was an Ishani. I had wings and a voice that could sing of creation,” I say, sounding crazy even to myself.

“An Ishani?” she says incredulously. “But they were wiped out years ago. Their planet was destroyed, and there were no survivors.”

“I know, I know. But that’s who I was,” I tell her. I want her to understand, but I can tell my words are not making sense to her.

She gives me a sympathetic smile. “I think you need to get checked out,” she says gently. “Make sure the crash didn’t do more damage than we know about.”

“I’m not fucking mad, Alana!” I shout vociferously. Although right at this moment, I am doubting my own statement.

“That’s not what I mean,” she says earnestly. “I just think a medic should take a look at you.”

I rise from our disheveled bed and pull on my pants. I need to get out of here. I need to be alone to think. To brood. Alana might be my fated mate, but I’m not used to anyone in my space, let alone having a concern for my well-being.

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