Page 3 of Hell-Bound

She nodded slowly. “Yeah…I got a letter,” she said, scratching her arm nervously. “The sender said that I would find answers there. So you don’t have to worry,” she said, plastering a smile on her face. “I’m sure I’ll be back to normal in no time…”

Her words trailed off, hanging in the air awkwardly.

Nephele’s eyes began to glisten, but before tears could fall, he wiped them away on his sleeve.

Renata’s heart clenched.

She wished she could give this male what he wanted. From what Clara and Atlas had said, he was genuine and kind.

Nephele cleared his throat, trying to steel himself.

“I don’t think leaving is the answer—”

“But I don’t even—”

“Please, Renata, let me finish,” he said solemnly, lips trembling. “I think leaving is a mistake. What if you forget how to get home?” He looked at the table hopelessly. “But…I love you, so I…respect your right to choose this path yourself.”

Renata clenched her fists, frustrated. How was she even supposed to respond to that—to defend her decision? Did he not understand that she was scared, too? That the only thing that felt more terrifying than leaving was staying here? But she pushed down her aggravation—he was hurting, and if nothing else, she could understand that.

“You will always be the woman I love,” he continued sadly. “The woman that showed me what it meant to be alive. The woman who challenged me to be a better man and inspired me to help others, no matter the cost.”

Renata blushed, feeling undeserving of such an endorsement.

“It is because of how true I know our love is—was—that I know I have to let you go. If this is what you chose, perhaps you should live that life.” He let out a small sob. “But, selfishly, I can’t give up—don’t think I can move on knowing that you might return to me one day…”

Renata finally found her voice.

“Did I not…mention anything before? Did I not explain?” she asked desperately, knowing the answer before it came.

He shook his head mournfully. “I wish you would have. Perhaps then we both wouldn’t feel so lost.”

Renata came back to herself as a small wave splashed upon the docks. It was some kind of cruelty that the only memories she had now were of confusion and hurt faces. Of conversations that led to tears—tears she couldn’t understand. So when Leonardo’s letter summoned her to Ataria, she leaped at the chance to change her fate.

The letter explained that news of her mysterious affliction had reached the shores of Ataria and that, if she was interested, he could book her on a merchant vessel to arrive in six weeks to discuss her affliction.

Renata had no desire to question the letter’s authenticity. If it was something false, it was still better than staying in that depressing little town with the pitying faces bearing down on her.

The journey itself was relatively uneventful. She found that she wasn’t prone to sea-related illnesses and enjoyed the water spray and how her skin stung mildly from the salt that constantly coated it.

But the best part was the freedom—freedom from the expectations and the sadness. No one on the vessel knew her. She could be anyone and didn’t have to answer impossible questions or be affronted with tales of the past that made very little sense to her.

She wasn’t angry at the people in Vergessen. Most were trying to be helpful. But it was incredibly irritating to betoldwho you were.

“But youusedto love oysters! How could you not like them now? No, no…you’re mistaken. Renata loves oysters!”

On the sea, she could breathe. She could rock gently side to side with the waves and listen to them crash against the vessel’s side. If she ever found herself melancholic, she would retrieve a small piccolo from a satchel, the only real item of note she had brought, and play a gentle tune.

She had shocked herself back in Vergessen when she lifted the piccolo to her lips and immediately began playing. She almost cried with relief and joy as the notes twisted through the air. It felt almost miraculous that her ear recognized different notes. Memories of people were lost to the mysteries of her mind, but when it came to music, to the melodious sounds that made her blood quicken and her heart beat a little faster, she would never forget. Perhaps it was too much a part of her—something that made up so much of notonly who butwhatshe was—that it couldn’t be torn from her mind.

She also made a friend on the ocean journey, a young urchin named Benji.

He wasn’t on his way to Ataria. Instead, he explained, “I’ve been workin’ on this ship for years! Best home a man could ask for!”

Benji wasn’t, in fact, a man. He was Human, but he barely reached Renata’s shoulders and still had the round cheeks of a lad. They formed a fast friendship as Benji loved to tell stories of his adventures on theSea Walker, their vessel. Renata was always fascinated by his tales.

He would regale her with stories of different ports, foods from all over the world, and times when they’d almost wrecked andsurelywould have died if not for his heroics.

In only his few years, Benji had lived such a spectacular life that she couldn’t help but feel jealous of all the adventures he could share. Renata was woefully unable to reciprocate.

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