Page 15 of Broken Bonds

I know I’m not going in there yet.

I don’t really remember any of the drive home. I don’t know if Jillian tried talking to me, and despite the possibility that she may have attempted and then given up with my lack of response, I can’t find it in me to care.

There’s this gnawing ache inside of me that feels like it’ll never stop, and it’s all I can think about.

Without uttering a single word, I step out of the car, leaving the door ajar. My steps are light as I kick my shoes off and continue barefoot to the dock behind our house.

Jillian doesn’t follow, and I’m so grateful to her in the moment for knowing that I need space to be alone right now.

As the sun slowly sets in the sky, the crisp October air drifts out to play as the darkness of night approaches. The days here are still fairly warm, however, the nights are notably more chilled than they were before. Eventually the warmth of the season will be gone, and we’ll be left with nothing but the chill of winter until the world around us starts to thaw out.

Normally, the sky’s beauty at this moment would fill me with a feeling of tranquility and peace. The way the delicate pinks and oranges come together in a seamless mix of watercolors and the way the sun gradually sinks lower and lower, casting a long shadow across the world.

Instead of feeling anything, I’m completely numb. Nothing tethers me here at this moment. If it weren’t for the babies spinning around inside of me right now, I fear I would have broken down and driven myself into their arms on the other side the minute I felt the snapping of our bonds to each other inside of my chest. When I felt my soul being torn apart, each of them taking a part of me with them.

I take a seat, allowing my feet to dangle over the water, and just take the time to gaze out at the horizon. The air this evening is still and quiet, the whisper of a breeze from earlier now stifled, and the only movement is the occasional bubbles from the wildlife in the water.

The outside environment is placid and serene, yet inside I’m being overcome by a tumultuous storm that rages on.

A twister of emotions swirling and swirling, building up and wrecking everything I am.

A torrential downpour floods from my eyes and I lean over, heaving before realizing there’s nothing to choke out because I haven’t eaten today. It feels like there’s a vice grip on my throat, constricting it, making it hard to breathe as I try to gasp between my crying and gagging. My stomach quickly becomes sore from the way my muscles clench with every dry heave that pushes from me. It’s the worst kind of torture to need to throw up, only to not be able to because there’s nothing inside of you to purge.

Finally, my stomach settles, and I just lay there and wait. Wait for the sky to darken and the stars to fill the night sky. Wait for the moon to replace the sun and cast its ethereal glow across the water.

When the sky is finally dark, and the stars settle into their places, and the moon finally appears, I let it all out. Every single thing I’ve been trying to contain finally overflowing and pouring out of me.

I scream as loud as I can, the desperate, mournful sound echoing over the water and into the trees. I scream so loudly that my throat becomes raw. I scream in the desperate hope that they will hear me. My alphas and the cruel gods that took them from me, leaving me in this pit of agony.

Hear my pain and my grief.

I know it won’t have any effect on the situation, yet I still need them all to see the destruction they’ve left in their wake. I need my alphas to hear my cries and know how angry I am.

I scream until I can’t scream anymore, and then I collapse on the end of the dock, depleted and out of breath. Deep, gasping breaths escape from me as I lay there staring across the still waters, eyes unfocused, throat so raw it feels like I swallowed shards of glass. Each breath hurts. Every swallow is painful. My head feels full and overstuffed. The pressure that’s built up behind my eyes is so strong that it feels like my head is going to burst. Even this doesn’t come close to the absolute misery and despondency that has its grip on me, whispering it’s never letting me go.

The stars twinkle above, catching my attention from the corner of my eye, and I roll over, laying on my back so I can stare up into the inky night sky. As my blurry vision adjusts, I’d swear there are four up there that shine brighter than the rest, winking in and out, like a signal being sent out.

They heard me. They know my pain, my anguish, my anger.

I lay there on that dock for hours, time having no meaning in my current state. It’s late into the night when Jilly finally comes out to get me. A freezing chill has taken over my body, causing my skin to become ice cold and my fingers and toes to become numb because it’s colder near the water. I bury my nose in the quilt she must have grabbed from the living room when she wraps me in it and I detect Van’s leather scent emanating from it.

Clutching the quilt close to me, I press my nose in the material, and, with Jilly’s guidance, I find my way back to my house. She is my rock, here to lend me her strength and support when I’m feeling weak.

As soon as I’m inside, she guides me straight to the bathroom. She stands there in front of me with a stubborn set to her jaw and demands I get in the shower, turning the heat as warm as I can stand it. Once settled on the floor of the tub, she closes the glass door and leaves me alone with the bathroom door open. As I listen to her banging away in the kitchen, I close my eyes and rest against the wall, letting the warmth from the water drive away the chill that’s seeped into my bones.

I must doze off because the next time I open my eyes, the water is off and Jilly is trying to get me up, wrapping me in a towel. Standing causes a sudden bout of vertigo, and I have to take a few moments to see past the darkness and combat the overwhelming sensation of spinning.

“Okay?” Jillian asks me, her voice soft and slightly concerned.

Once I’ve got my bearings, I respond.

“I’m fine. I just need to lie down, I think,” I croak out.

She gets an inflexible look in her eyes as she stares at me.

“You have to eat, Rams. I don’t think you’ve eaten at all today.”

“Can I at least eat in the bed?” I sigh heavily, my stomach rebelling against the idea of consuming food.

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