Page 135 of A Simple Truth

And yet, after a week of my murder spree, having killed all of the generals except Lachlan, and executing some other people I didn’t care for, I could no longer go on without seeing her.

I just needed a glimpse. A painful, agony filled glimpse. But I selfishly craved a few seconds where her ethereal presence would light up the suffocating darkness in the depths of my soul.

I just wanted to be near her, like the cold moon pulled by gravity towards the earth, never able to be fully away, but never truly being close.

It was pathetic.

It was weak.

But I didn’t care.

I just wanted to see her. Seeing hernearme and notwithme couldn’t be more painful than being away from her.

I had nothing else left to lose. Nothing else to look forward to, except these stolen glances, for the rest of my miserable life.

I had called the council meeting, had dragged it out longer on purpose, just for this. The utter bullshit I had to spew to keep the conversation going until she was here was completely worthless, and nonetheless, being here right now made it all worth it.

Everything was suddenly worth it as she walked in. My eyes devoured her like I had never seen her before. My mind forgot how to function as she stood there; her braid somehow already messy, her loose, oversized shirt awkwardly tucked into her stained pants, her boots dusty from the dirt and sand, but I stood there speechless, taken by her grace, her beauty as she stared back, holding tight to the heap of wildflowers in her arms.

My soul, against all reason and logic, revered in her presence.

Finnleah proudly walked past me, her flowery smell immediately clouding my thoughts, even as my mind fought the overwhelming urge to take her, to kiss her, to feel her skin against mine.

Her body stretched, as she tried reaching the vase on the high shelf, her fingers scraping only the very edge of it. Without a fleeting thought, I was by her side, getting the damned thing for her.

She grabbed the vase, but I didn’t let go as our eyes met once more. Our breaths became shallow as we stood there in silence, holding on to the green vase, while our eyes spoke a language we didn’t understand.

“Thank you for your help,” she finally said, her throat moving as she swallowed hard.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, my brain finally remembering to let go of the vase as she placed flowers into it.

I was too close.

Too fucking close to her.My mind collapsed at her nearness.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. My hand awkwardly stuck in the air as I almost reached to take hers.

I thought I could handle it, but I couldn’t. The stitches that held my bleeding heart together ripped at the seams once more.

I had to go. I had to leave now.

Without saying goodbye, I turned on my heels with an audible click and stormed out, leaving my heart behind.

81

FINNLEAH

Irubbed my temples, sitting up in the warm bed. The stars outside were still shining through the poorly curtained window in the small loft, even as the sky flushed pink in anticipation of the coming dawn. I reached for the pen and paper next to my bed, jotting down a few words to remember from my vision for later.

Claws. Everything on fire. Black stone.

I itched the small, round, red burn mark on my palm, the only sign of my dream being a vision slowly vanishing before my eyes.

A vision. Another one.

In the morning, Fatima would interrogate me about it. But for now, I didn’t want to think much of the never-ending glimpses of everything, as I plummeted back to my pillow. Somehow, I’d been used to them being my dreams for so long that it felt a bit odd thinking of them as actual visions. Actual places, lives, people.

I yawned, still not sure what triggered them, or what they meant. Though perhaps, the everlasting fire in my dream was indeed triggered by the one with such powers.

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