Page 18 of A Harmony of Procellarum

TINY

I stand from my chair as I watch him leave, eyeing the two guards whose size could give Squall a run for his money. There’s no chance of me escaping this place if that’s who’s standing outside our door. Embarrassment floods my cheeks again as I think about what I did last night. I can’t blame it on a dream I was having about someone else because Torrent was the star of that as well. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but the longer I’m here, the more I lose myself.

As the scent of Torrent lingers, I begin to pace the room. Hints of mint and pine float in the air, making my stomach flip with nausea because last night, when I was using his body for pleasure, that was all I could smell. The bed is the strongest, the blankets and pillows holding his scent in deep saturation.

“Shit,” I hiss to myself as I look at the door and then back to my duffel bag. If I ever get to see my mother again, I am going to throttle her for just handing over my stuff to a stranger.

I had barely stepped foot in the house, barely said hello to her, but in that two-minute threshold I took in her bloodshot eyes, the too-straight shoulders, and the arrogant tilt of her chin. All of it telling me that if she had taken one step, I would have witnessed the sway of her intoxicated gait. My mother is back off the wagon, and in the most fucked-up way, I am thankful I don’t have to be there to witness it. I just would rather be with Tempest and Sky, living in a bubble of denial and not having to face the nightmare of what awaits me at home.

I don’t know if her recent boyfriend is still in the picture, but if he is, he’s clearly not the best influence. I understand alcoholism is a disease, and the cure is obtaining a willpower so strong it would take a bodybuilder’s regime to maintain. So much hard work with little reward because it’s hard to see through the haze of a drunken stupor and notice that you’re not just wasting your life, you’re slowly killing yourself. It’s equally hard to see through the pain of recovery, so I understand it all. I’ve been to meetings with her, to sessions where I’ve been told there’s not much I can do to make sure she stays sober. It has to all be her. So I let the guilt go a long time ago.

I just wish that I could have at least spent a few hours with her to explain how important she is to me, because I’m afraid I won’t ever get that chance again. I’ve watched documentaries of people living through the last days of illness and having a calming sensation wash over them as they accept their fate. They know the end is near and begin to filter through their lives, reliving the experiences through their memories. In a way, that’s what I’m doing, only mine is filled with regrets. I wish I could have held my friends a little longer, told them how much I love them a little more, but at least if anything happens to me, I’ll never have to worry about them wondering how I felt.

I can’t say the same about Squall.

We didn’t end well, and he’s my biggest regret. Maybe I didn’t fight hard enough.

I sit back in the chair, avoiding the bed and the memories it holds. The embarrassment is still fresh and the horror is etched into my consciousness. I don’t think Torrent will ever let me live that down and if I think about it for too long, I’ll have to force myself to come to terms with why any of it happened. The dreams, the subconscious actions, all of it I will have to face, and I’m not ready for that symphony.

So I curl up on the chair, knowing my body will ache, but unable to bring myself to care. This prison cell has become a mental type of torture because while I’m alone, I’m forced to go over everything, relive things I’ve long buried. If I do survive this and somehow make it out of here, I don’t think I’ll leave the same way I came in.

SQUALL

I leave Raiden’s hotel room feeling heavier than when I first came. It’s hard to face guilt, especially when it comes from within, and I have so much of it I’m barely keeping my head above water. My obsession with Tiny started from the very first year I laid eyes on her and has led her to this very predicament. I’ve been selfish, wanting my cake and eating it too, but I never stopped to consider anyone else.

Even though Torrent and I are mated, bonded together by some unknown force, we were never faithful. I think we always knew there were things we needed beyond just each other, but neither of us ever felt threatened until now.

After Raiden got off the phone with Edward, everything shifted. I’ve never felt so small, so inferior as I did sitting inside that hotel room. Letting fear conduct your emotions has a way of shrinking you down to a fraction of your size. Just when we thought we had Luciphia figured out and her plans dissected, she throws in a wrench and knocks us off our axis. But what I fear the most is that none of this is her plan, and Torrent has once again gone rogue.

Torrent’s never been one to follow the rules, to do as he’s told. He’s always forging his own path, whether it is right or wrong, and he’s shown no regret for his poor decisions. I can’t help but worry that this is his newest rebellion, his fight against authority, and it will surely put him in his grave. It was bad enough to go up against his own brother, to plan the deaths of his bandmates, and of me—his bonded—because in the end, I think he knew we would always forgive him. He has an illness of the mind, a paranoia that lives inside of him, constantly telling him he’s evil, but I can’t help but think this recent rebellion is just a cry for help. Or it’s a suicide mission. Either one of those things will tear me apart.

While Raiden looks into everything that’s going on, I am going to be scouting that head office, hoping to find evidence Tiny is okay, and if it gives me one more chance to see Torrent, I won’t waste it.

I get into my small Honda Civic rental car and pull out of the parking lot. I went with a model not easily detected or overly flashy and I’m glad I did. It’ll serve my purposes perfectly.

I’m worried about the Magistrate who’s been found murdered, knowing Torrent is the new Vanquisher. Nothing is making sense, and it’s even more worrisome that they snatched Tiny, but not the other two girls. Torrent hates Tiny and he’s indifferent to the other two. So if given the choice of whom to kidnap and torture, I know he wouldn’t hesitate to grab her.

It’s starting to look like all of this was conjured up by Torrent since the agenda works best for him. If this was last year, I would be swallowed by guilt. Just the thought of Torrent doing anything bad would end in a self-deprecating moment. I would consider everything he’d been through and hate myself for thinking the worst of him.

That was until he grabbed Tiny for the first time and tried to sacrifice her on that Nevada altar. Now I know what Torrent is capable of and that his aspirations have no limits. He would kill any of us in the name of advancement.

It doesn’t lessen the bond I have with him, or the affection I feel whenever I think of him. I just know what lengths he would go to for himself, even if it meant him watching us all die.

I want to storm into that building and take back my girl, but I know if I show that much attachment, Luciphia would have my weakness in her grasp. Tiny would end up dead for sure. I have to play their game with their rules, but the second I see an opening, I will raze the whole place to the ground to save Tiny.

The skyscraper stands black against the clear evening skyline, the ominous structure a vast contrast to the others around it. I park across the street and watch the entrance like a starved man, waiting for any morsels thrown my way. It doesn’t take too long before Torrent is striding through in that trench of his with the hood up. He’s surrounded by guards, but the duffel in his hand gives me pause. He’s going somewhere.

He’s on another mission.

Torrent drops the hood just before getting in the back of a blacked-out sedan and his eyes find mine, as if he can sense me. He gives me a quick nod before climbing in and I deflate against my seat in relief.

Tiny is okay.

Torrent wouldn’t lie to me. In fact, he would celebrate my agony if she were dead. It’s just the way he is, the way he’s always been. After what happened to Father Robert, Torrent found delight in the darker things. The more gruesome, the better.

Loving Beginnings Orphanage -1990

Victor’s cast is being removed today and my stomach has been in knots. He’s been waiting until he’s fully recovered before following through with his plans to take down the evil Sisters. Even more surprising is Shereen’s involvement. She’s been an eager participant in the plans and I can see Haynes gradually pulling away from her. I don’t blame him. He’s been scarred and tortured well beyond the rest of us.

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