Page 65 of Beyond the Horizon

“I don’t think that’s…” I start, wanting to make it clear I don’t want to be wooed, at least not by him.

“Dream of me at least…” he calls with a quick wave and a tentative smile. I watch him pick up his pace as he jogs towards the B&B situated half a mile down the road.

“The only person I dream of is him…” I mutter to his retreating back, sighing heavily. I’m pretty sure neither of us will sleep much tonight. He’ll have a rowdy bunch of drunken women from the hen party to contend with and I’ll have Malakai. Just like my heart, my head is filled to the brim with thoughts of him.

Fishing my door keys out of my pocket, I walk down my garden path. A shiver scatters over my skin, and even though it’s August and warm still, I can’t help but feel cold. Stopping at my front door, I stare at Peter’s figure disappearing off into the distance. My guilt at not feeling the way Peter wants me too is shoved forcefully away by memories of Malakai from a year ago. They merge with my encounters with him today. Like a potent mix brewed up by a witch, this is one potion that leaves a bitter taste on my tongue. A love potion gone sour.

I sang for Malakai and he walked. At least Peter had stayed.

I may as well have slit my wrists and let my life blood pump from my severed veins for all the good it did. My love for Malakai is a wasteland, barren and without any sustenance to give it life.

He’s not even been back a day, and already I’m a mess.

“Shit,” I mutter, a restless kind of energy burning in my veins and making me feel on edge.

Knowing I won’t sleep a wink, I quietly open the front door and tiptoe upstairs. Stopping at my grandma’s door I peer through the gap and am relieved to see that she’s sleeping peacefully. Making my mind up, I grab a picnic blanket and throw from the airing cupboard and head back outside.

Five minutes later I’m lying down on the cool sand of Broken Shores staring up at the stars and wondering how the hell I’m going to survive the wild, unquenchable thirst that I have for Malakai. The physical attraction between us is unquestionable. Any idiot within five meters can sense it, feel it. Peter did.

I’ve been able to keep the pain at bay this past year by holding onto the tiny hope that he’ll return and profess his love for me. When he didn’t do that earlier, when he laughed in the face of my anger. When he belittled everything I said. It hurt.

I’m in agony.

I wanted him to feel some of that agony too and so I severed those arteries and allowed my soul to pour free from my veins. I wanted to punish him with my words. Has it worked? Is that why he left The Shack earlier, his sudden threats abandoned?

Pulling the throw up over my body and my hoodie around my head, I allow my thoughts to drift until the soothing sound of the ocean lapping against the shore and the gentle caw of the terns nesting in the cliff face lull me into a troubled sleep.

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