Page 9 of A Song of Death and Desire

Some of my colleagues tried asking me about the crash when I first returned to the office, but they promptly stopped when Igave a gruff response that I don’t remember, or occasionally, no response at all. Since then, I’d been given a wide berth in the office. I was not always the most social in our team but even less so now. I have preferred to keep my head down, and my mind focused on work.

Not only are our staff more emotional than normal but productivity has significantly dropped. Obviously, we are two staff members down, and I know Tom is beginning recruitment to fill their positions, but that doesn’t change the fact that now, we are behind on everything. I’m sympathetic, and don’t get me wrong, the loss of Don and Steve affects me, but I also just want to do my job and get home.

It has become clear to me over these past weeks that my tolerance for people has diminished. I have been easily irritated, short-tempered, and snappy for no discernible reason, not just to Kelly but to everyone. I even yelled at the old lady who rammed my ankles with her shopping cart while getting groceries yesterday. It fucking hurt like a bitch, but the poor woman didn’t deserve my outburst. I can tell that I’m starting to shit everyone off, but I can’t seem to stop. The words seem to spill from my lips before I’m even aware of it. This isn’t like me. I can appear disinterested and stand-offish, but I’m generally not an asshole especially not to little old ladies.

In addition to me flying off the handle every time I’m even remotely inconvenienced, there have been a few things I've been struggling with. The first is the song that won’t leave me alone. Sometimes it plays in the background, and I am able to go about my day in a relatively normal way. And there are times when it feels like an itch under my skin that I can’t relieve. An itch that gradually takes more and more of my focus until it is all I can think about. The more I think about it, the worse it becomes. Where all I want to do is scratch and make the damn itch disappear, but no matter how hard I try, it keeps crawlingbeneath my skin. And it's not just the song. It's the emotions that come with it. Lust and peace but also confusion and fear. I know that my productivity at work has dropped significantly. I’m just waiting to be called in to meet Tom about it. There’s only so much he can let me get away with. Yesterday, I only realized when everyone started leaving for the day that I had been staring at my computer screen without doing a single thing for hours.

And then there’s the woman. Her hair, a deep red that flows down to her waist, eyes that penetrate my very soul. Everywhere I look, she is there, but not really. I see the brightness of her hair on the street, but when I look closer, there is no one there that resembles her appearance. I see her out of the corner of my eye but when I face her, she’s gone. She’s in my dreams, mostly just sitting beside me.

Sometimes, and I would never admit this aloud, I see her when Kelly and I are fucking. A couple of times I have looked down at Kelly, seeing the other woman instead of her. In the moment, it heightens the sensations and makes everything feel better. But after, once the high of my orgasm has faded, I feel sick and ashamed of myself. I try to tell myself that I have no control. It’s not like I’m purposely imagining another woman and fantasizing about them. This is completely involuntary. Although, when I fuck my fist in desperation, so turned on by the song and the image— that is intentional. Many times, over the past weeks I’ve wondered if the accident has made me crazy.

My shoulders tense as I feel someone approaching my desk. I look up to find Tom. He hasn’t been coming out into the main office very often lately. I think he’s been struggling to try to keep up staff morale when everyone is sad and overworked. I sigh internally, knowing that he's finally here to talk to me about my work.

“Hey, Eagan, can we chat in my office for a minute?”

“Okay,” I mumble, following him to his office, stomach filling with dread.

Tom sits in his large office chair behind his desk, gesturing for me to sit in the chair on the opposite side. I oblige, steeling myself for whatever this talk is going to be about.

“I wanted to check in with you about how things have been since you've come back. I know that what you went through was traumatic. Are you getting any professional help? Lacey has a friend from college who is a psychologist. If you would like, I can get her number for you. It might really help to talk to someone.”

I shudder. The last thing I want to be doing right now is thinking more about the accident. It's living in my head enough as it is.

“Thanks for your concern but I really am doing fine.” Tom furrows his brow, and I can tell he doesn't believe me.

“Okay, I'm going to be straight with you, as a friend and not as a boss. You've been an asshole since you came back. People don't want to be around you. Actually, they're avoiding you. Now I know you went through some shit and have all sorts of survivor's guilt, but you can't keep taking your emotions out on everyone else.”

I look at my hands resting in my lap in shame. I know I’ve been even less personable than usual and that I've been acting differently around people I would get along okay with.

“The way you behaved in the meeting on Wednesday was completely inappropriate and unprofessional. Josh did not deserve to be spoken to that way. We have all tried to be understanding, and you have been getting away with a lot, given the circumstances. But this can’t continue.” I cringe at the memory of the meeting when I interrupted Josh during a presentation and told him in not-so-polite terms that his idea was shit. I’m lucky I wasn’t fired on the spot.

“I understand,” I say, pushing back my chair as I stand. “I'll get my shit sorted out, don't worry about me.”

Tom gives me a small smile. “Let me know if you want Lacey’s friend’s number. I really think it would help.” I walk out of his office without a reply, certain I can find a way to cope with all of this on my own.

Chapter 9

“Kairi? Hello, Kairi? Have you heard anything I have said over the past two minutes?” Raidne’s voice breaks the spell I was under; a memory having briefly taken hold. She waves a webbed hand in front of my face, trying to regain my attention.

“What is going on with you lately?” She asks. “You've barely been around. All you are doing is pining over the humans. I know you like to spend time on land, but you seem to be there far more often than is healthy. Your body isn’t coping well with the constant shifts. You're exhausted.”

She’s right. It takes all my energy lately to swim. I spend a lot of time resting on the ocean floor, too tired to do much else. But I can't seem to keep myself away from the land. Each shift I make to my human form is getting harder and harder, my energydepleting more with every passing day. I know I’m going too often, but I’m unable to resist it.

I have to see him. The man with the raven hair and sapphire blue eyes. The man I couldn't kill. I feel a pull towards him like the way the moon pulls the tide. I've never felt like this before. I haven't told Raidne or the others that I let him live that day, partly due to shame and partly because I know I won't know how to answer the inevitable questions that follow.

Why did you let him live?

Did he see you?

Did you sing to him?

What will we do if he tells anyone?

I don't know why I couldn't kill him. I was hungry. His soul was right there for the taking. I just couldn't. For the first time, I felt a deep, all-encompassing hatred for what I am and what my instincts were pushing me to do.

I think he saw a glimpse of me. Just a few moments.

I sang to him. I sang while he was unconscious, and I sang as his deep blue eyes met mine.

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