Page 118 of A Touch of Gold and Madness

Chrome wrapped me in a hug, tucking my head into the crook of his arm and gently pressing the side of my face into his chest. The scent of sage and peppermint wafted from his body, calming my senses. “I’d do anything for you, my Rainbow,” he said into my hair. The warmth of his breath tingled my scalp, then radiated down my neck and spine, making me quiver.

A flutter rippled in my chest that I tried to stifle. I twined my arms around Chrome’s waist and squeezed him. In that moment, he was my anchor that kept me from drifting away in the arms of my emotions.

I sat cross-legged on my bed with my spine straight. My hands rested atop my knees, and I breathed in slow, cleansing breaths to ease the weight on my chest. Fluttering my eyelids closed, I shut out the world around me.

I’d constructed an air shield around my body to create a physical bubble that separated me from the world. I tried to ‘go within’, asA Guide to Meditation and Finding Inner Peace for Beginners,suggested.

After my incident with Orion in the training fields, I’d immediately retreated to the solitude of my room. Shame, guilt, and utter failure nearly suffocated me as the memory of Orion’s crimson face lodged in my mind. After the self-loathing thoughts battered me long enough, I snatched the book on meditation from the oaken side table.

My thoughts assaulted me, but the book explained it was to be expected. It said all they wanted was to be acknowledged, heard, and sent on their way. I grew frustrated at the thoughts’ bombardment, but I remained focused on my slow breaths in order to release the tight resistance.

For several long minutes, I allowed the thoughts to come to me. At first, they were surface thoughts, such as recent events. However, they soon morphed into deeper, darker sentiments.

The book suggested observing them objectively. Then to ask myself whether they were positive or negative thoughts. If they were negative, then why? Especially when it pertained to thoughts about myself.

Why am I such a failure? I’ll never be enough. Or am I too much? I don’t deserve happiness. I’m weak. Stupid. Why am I so awkward? How could I be so brainless to never ask questions? To never see what was right in front of me? No wonder my father hated me so much.

On and on the insecurities went. They came one after another, plowing through my soul and cracking me open. Each thought brought a stream of salty tears down my cheeks. The level of self-hatred I held for myself was crushing. My heart broke for itself, knowing I’d always felt this way without ever realizing it.

The spiraling thoughts came to a screeching halt with the revelation I wasn’t responsible for them. From a young age, others around me projectedtheir negativity onto me. Others who never held the right to mold my self-beliefs.

As I stood by and watched from an objective perspective how the self-beliefs were formed, I realized I wasn’t any of the terrible things I’d been led to believe. They were ministrations designed to control and manipulate me. Only now, I noticed them.

I expanded my consciousness, becoming aware of the patterns that held me back from breaking free from the prison in my mind. Never again would I allow someone to dictate my thoughts or actions.

I was my own person now that I was free from the Royal Domain. Not only was I liberated from the physical confinement, but I could shatter the mental enslavement, truly releasing me from my father’s control.

Years of painful emotions flooded to the surface. My shoulders wracked for the little girl who never knew love, but desperately craved it, only wanting acceptance. I hugged the tiny child who’d tried to hide her bruises and broken bones at school.

Gut-wrenching sobs resounded within my air shield for little Gray, who wanted a mother to kiss her goodnight, but instead walked with her gaze to the ground, pretending to not to hear the hateful whispers.

I grieved for the young woman who’d shut down after the death of her first love.

My heart shattered for the weaponized woman who’d been lied to her entire life. I bled forgiveness for the lives she’d taken without ever questioning her orders.

I allowed my suppressed trauma to gush from me, baring myself raw and exposed, to rid my soul of the poison. I realized running from my pain was doing myself an injustice. The only way I’d ever find acceptance from others was if I learned to accept myself.

I wasn’t sure how many hours passed with me curled in the fetal position. My tears drenched the sheets, earning myself a slicing headache and swollen eyes.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d truly cried. Perhaps the day I learned of Slate’s death? I’d always believed crying was weak. My father had taught me that, which probably meant the opposite was true.

I felt empty, lighter now that I’d eased the weight of the pain that I’d been clinging to for so long. Feeling as if I’d survived a harrowing hurricane, I lay there, staring blankly out the wall window at the dusky autumn fields. I vowed to myself that no person or power would ever control me again, because the only person who could control me…wasme.And that was enough.

Silence reigned in the expansive public study on the second floor. A few Elementals pored over texts in the early hours of the evening. I needed to escape my room. However, I wanted to be in the presence of other people without actually socializing.

Three days had passed since my incident with Orion, and I’d avoided everyone ever since—even Chrome.

The warmth from another large stone fireplace beside my table soothed me and chased away the ravaging thoughts I fought to counter. My eyelids were heavy, threatening to shut as I willed them to remain open.

The sketched lines of my rendition of the beastie-bear blurred as my vision waned. I was losing the battle of wills.

A book slammed onto the table, making me jolt upright in my seat. My heart pounded in my ears as my hand went to my waist in search of a blade to wield. I came up empty. No weapons were there because I wasn’t wearing a weapons belt.

“Chill. It’s just me.” The clipped, feminine tone could only belong to one person.

“Fucking hell, River. Don’t do that,” I chided, slumping back in my seat, willing my heart to slow to its normal rhythm.

River shrugged, flicking her sleek ponytail over her shoulder. Her nails were perfectly manicured, and her makeup was flawless. “I heard you nearly killed Orion the other day. You good?”

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