Page 130 of Rage

I’ve hurt Edmund before. Though he’s not of this earth, he is more like a living embodiment of my love and warmth, guilt and sorrow, and some shame and grief. He’s all the little bits of me I don’t have left. Edmund came to be of the things I have discarded.

My claws can still cut him, my words slice into him, and my cold indifference to the world chips away at the armor he’s created by being near me for so long.

I can still see the scars.

And he’s quick to remind me I have good pieces still tethered to the broken bits of me.

But he is also quick to dampen my mood whenever I have a good day.

It’s like he tries to be the balance.

Or both the hero and the villain.

He is both the calm and chaos in my bones.

I drink the elixir, and the red-hot sting of the alcohol singes my bones, calms my rage, and settles my soul.

“Invite him to dinner,” he says softly, crouching to level me with his heather gray eyes.

I roll my neck to release the tension; it pops in response as my gaze returns to his.

“This is your chance, Rev. You mustn’t waste this opportunity, as it may be the only one of its kind.”

“You don’t know that,” I retort, pulling myself up from leaning on all fours.

“You forget I’m the keeper of your lost memories and things you choose to forget.”

I open my mouth to say something to get him to stop, and then I close it again. Instead, I turn and move over to the fireplace, even though his words chase me like the flick of a whip.

Edmund straightens from the crouch he’d been in, pulling the mug from the floor with him. “While you may forget the person who cast the spell and the words that bind us, I cannot. They haunt me every second.” He reaches me at the fireplace. Mug filled once again, he hands it to me, the amber liquid sloshing up the sides. His cool, gray eyes impale me. “I know you’re scared. You confuse that emotion with anger. Set your wrath aside. If you get someone to see the real you inside of this—” he jabs his finger into my upper arm, “we will all be free. And then you can have your vengeance on the real person who deserves it.”

His words encircle me, gathering the rest of my rage and laying it to rest for the night. Calm, soothing air picks up the heavy burden that revenge and wrath creates, extinguishing the fire marrow cascading within me. The chilling balm settles me, and I release a ragged and deep breath.

“What if he doesn’t like what’s left of that girl?” I ask, keeping my lip steady though it nearly threatens to tremble.

“Beneath this big scary beast, you really are a great person Rev. You got dealt a shitty hand and pissed off the wrong person?—”

I shove my finger in his face to shut him up. “Tsk tsk. You know I don’t?—”

He shrugs me off. “Want me to say anything about who you were? I know,”

I nod and turn away.

I’m exhausted from this conversation, and we barely talked. I know he’s right. Yet I have no desire to gather any bits of me he feels like giving back.

I’m comfortable in my oblivion.

I say nothing as he clears his throat.

“I’ll tell him to be promptly at eight.”

I give an imperceptible nod and fall into a trance with the flames as he saunters off, leaving the conversation at that.

The doors to my chamber clang closed, and I sink into the chair by the fire, letting the rest of my anger slip into the embers.

I must be on my best behavior for dinner.

Gotta convince a man I’m neither maiden nor monster, but something in between.

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