Page 42 of The Heir

I got ready to take a shower, moving about my room then making my way into the bathroom. I pulled off my clothes, turned on the hot water, and got in. Once I was finished, I wrapped a towel around me and wiped the fogged up mirror. That’s when I noticed that the rose I had taped to the wall had been removed. The tape was cut into two pieces making an X, and the rose was gone. I looked at the counter, and sitting by the sink was a face watch.

I began to shake.

No.

I jumped back with a scream, as if it would attack me, and I stared at the minute hand as it ticked, looking at the blood stains on the leather and the face glass. I shuffled out of the bathroom and fell onto my bed. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to breathe. I knew it was all in my head. It had to be. Thewatchwas not there. Mary promised she would keep it away until I was ready to have it. Memories again came to life.

My dad—“I’m so sorry” his choked words—his dead, open eyes—the dripping of blood—I tried to focus my breathing and tried to stay calm. I climbed off the bed and quickly and carelessly pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, because I realized that I was still naked, with only a towel around me.

I gulped in air and walked to the edge of the room.

“It’s not there. It’s not there—you are okay,” I said out loud between heavy breaths. I closed my eyes, took one last huge breath and turned the corner, looked down at the bathroom counter and screamed.

Itwasthere.

I screamed over and over and over again. My throat hurt and felt raw, but I couldn't stop. I felt my body go limp.Itwas there—itwas still there–my father’s bloody watch.

“Emma!” I felt a hand touch my face as a song floated into my soul. I felt a warm breath on my face and a strong body against my own, lifting me up. I opened my eyes. “Emma, are you okay?”

I shook my head, and for a moment, because of his dark features, I thought it washimwho held me, the man from my nightmares. When I realized it wasn't, I was puzzled to see Shad.

How did he know I wasn’t okay? Why is he here? Did I scream so loud that he heard me from across the street?I didn’t care, and I pulled closer to him, his arms wrapping tighter around me as I pulled his shirt into my hands, clutching the fabric as if–had I let go of it—I would have died. I was shaking and sobbing, but he held me. He held me tight so I was cradled in his arms as he stood there. I realized that I must have been on the bathroom floor when he discovered me.

“Take me out of here. Please, I cannot be in here,” I begged, pulling his shirt in my hands tighter, pleading with his beautiful, golden eyes.

“Of course,” he said, leaving the bathroom and even closing the door behind us, somehow. “What happened? What is going on? Did you have a nightmare, Emma?” Shad, himself, looked terribly frightened and worried as he carried me into my room.

“The watch, his watch—it’s in there, and I didn’t put it in there! At the hospital, they gave us the bag of his things, and I told Mary to keepitaway, and there it is, and the tape and the rose!” I was nearly screaming in hysterics.

“Emma, Emma, it’s okay,” Shad said calmly as he carried me to my bed. He tucked the blankets around me, and I could not fight the exhaustion that took over me, and I fell into black nothingness only moments later, dreaming of golden eyes.

When I woke up later, it was dark, but there was someone with me in the room. His song floated around me, keeping me safe, keeping me calm.

Shad.

I sat up.

“Emma, are you okay?” A light turned on, illuminating Shad sitting beside my bed on the floor. He stood up. He lookedimpossibleat that moment—I was looking at something that was made up—because Shad stood there in a t-shirt and basketball shorts. I bit my lip.

“Shad?” I asked, reaching out for him.

“Yes, Emma. It’s me. Are you okay?” He grasped my hands in his.

“Are you wearing a t-shirt? I must be dreaming.”

He chuckled. “I was about to work out. I can’t do that in my usual clothes.”

“Oh,” I said, realizing I had no idea how I looked, and I started touching my hair.

He pulled my hands away from my head and smiled. “You are so pretty, Emma,” he said with a soft smile, making me feel as if it didn’t matter how my hair appeared.

“Yes, I am sure I lookgreatright now,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“You look sleepy and adorable.”

I tried to tame the flutters inside me that wanted to be free with his words. “Is it still there?”

“The watch? No, I moved it. I will give it to your aunt when she gets here.”

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