Page 42 of A Harmony of Procellarum

“Victor,” he says frantically, as tears spill over his cheeks. “You’ve been shot, Victor. Lie down. We’re going to get you help.”

Finally, I get enough air in my lungs as I sink to my knees and he follows me. My brother screams behind me as I slowly look over my shoulder, finding him slamming his fists into the guard’s face repeatedly while the others try to pull him off. I wish I could tell him I’m sorry for being so difficult, but this seems fitting. Even now, as he is fighting for me, I’m still not quite his first priority.

“Squall…” I turn back to the man in front of me and wrap my hand around his cheek, dragging his forehead to mine as he shudders on a sob. “It’s okay, I’m free. But I can’t hold him inside forever.” Squall pulls back and gives me a confused look. “The demon…” The strength to speak is slowly waning from me and I know I don’t have much time. “You promised to come with me.”

Understanding dawns on his features as his hand presses over the wound on my chest. I can feel it throbbing as my blood seeps down onto the floor at our knees. “There’s no demon, Victor.”

“I can’t hold it in forever.” I fall forward, my hand slipping into my pants pocket to pull out my knife. “I have to save you, too.”

He gives me a nod and leans forward to press his mouth to mine. With the last of my energy, I lift my arm and open the blade, sinking it deep into his chest, right where his heart is. The whole time he keeps his mouth on mine until we both fall to the floor, our fingers intertwined like the fabric of our fate.

Tiny

Thefirstfewsnowflakesdrift down from the sky, slowly skating past my window as I sit on my chair and sip the hot cocoa my mother made. She’s been sober for a year now, and I have a good feeling this time. Me though? I’ve been trying to claw my way out of a hole for the past year and finally feel like I’m gripping level ground.

Soon after what happened in that building, I was rushed out and Raiden went back to Dominica to be with Tempest. I’ve heard from them a few times over the past year, but I’ll admit I haven’t always been too eager to talk. They remind me of things I would rather forget. Of the two men who figuratively sacrificed me by ripping my heart out of my chest. Sometimes I wish Torrent had his way and killed me on that altar in Nevada, but then I would have missed out on so much.

Raiden keeps my bank account full so I don’t have to work, providing me the excuse to become a recluse inside of my apartment, being chastised by my mother every day. She doesn’t know what happened to me, doesn’t understand that my insides were pulverized, and when I tried to fit them all back, I was missing a key organ. Not that I need my heart anymore.

I place the mug on the table in front of me and get up to head toward my room. I need a shower and I need to pull myself back to the land of the living. I step into my room and pull open the closet to grab a shirt and some leggings when my eye catches on the two duffel bags tucked into the corner. They were the last things I grabbed as I was forced out of that building. One of them is mine and the other belongs to Torrent.

I haven’t had the strength to touch them, let alone open them, but there’s something inside of me today that feels ready. Before I can change my mind, I’m reaching down to grab the leather handle, the feel of it soft and worn against my palm. I pull it out and quickly toss it onto my bed, rubbing my hands together to stave off the energy that’s suddenly crackling along my skin. I take a deep breath and stride forward, grabbing the cool metal of the zipper and pulling it open.

I’m assaulted by his scent, still so fresh inside the bag. Like pine and mint as it plumes up around my head, making my eyes water and nearly dragging me back to that room where I writhed beneath his body. My hand creeps up to the scar still visible on my neck though it has faded with time, but I steel my spine and begin to pull out his clothes. Shirts, boxers, pants. I also find some toiletries, but it’s the small pocket at the back of the bag that holds a treasure priceless in its value.

Nestled inside that pocket is an old photograph and the sight has my heart lurching up into my throat. It’s a young Torrent and Squall, standing in front of the mansion in Dominica. Torrent has a smug look on his face, his dimples deep, while his arm is around Squall. He’s so tall and thick, his white-blond hair blowing in the breeze and a smile just as big as Torrent’s on his face.

As I gather the picture to my chest, I choke on a sob. I had feared I would forget what they looked like, but this is a gift that I will treasure for the rest of my life and it’s one that’s pulling on me to do something I didn’t think I would ever do again.

I pick up my phone and I press on Tempest’s contact to send her a text. I long to be with my family and this apartment has never felt like home.

I’ll see you in a few days. I’m coming home.

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