What is he thinking?
Does he think I’m weak? Or is he wondering how I could be foolish enough to let this happen? Or perhaps that I’m naïve to allow Jasper close enough to hurt me like this?
“Poor, poor, Myssa. If you were more like your sister, maybe boys would like you.”
I wince, remembering my mother’s words. I drape my sweater over my arm, and forsome reason, this seems to snapZayne out of his daze. Without a word, he takes the chair I was sitting in and pulls it up beside Knox.
But he doesn’t sit, he just stands there, his imposing presence seeming to only intensify the silence, which is growing heavier by the second.
When neither of them is willing to say anything, I can’t help but get frustrated. Yes, this is a lot. Yes, I have emotions, but I’m fucking done waiting.
“Alright, now it’syourturn.”
And just like that, I have their attention.
“How about you two explain to me how the hell this is all happening?”
They stare at me, and then at each other, before Zayne takes a deep breath.
“I suppose we should start at the beginning,” he sighs.
“The world we live in,” he gestures around the room, “is one of so many. The gods, seemingly bored with their own existence, created us for their own amusement.
“Amusement?” I question,
Knox just shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah, even thoughwe’re these soul bound entities, we are just play things to the Gods. They dress us up likepaper dolls, with different shapes, colors, thoughts, and emotions. Basically, think Build-a-Bear, but instead of bears, it’s build a human.”
Zayne sighs again, this time rubbing his eyes.
“As asinine as that description is,” he starts. “It’s not entirely inaccurate.”
I take a deep breath, trying to process what I’ve just been told.
I’d like to say that I’m shocked. And I am. But not as much as I thought I would be.
I mean, how much do we really know about how we became who we are?
Zayne walks to the fridge, grabbing water for himself and Knox.
My mind is spinning.
Earlier, Zayne had mentioned that my dreams could sometimes be flashes of past lives I’d lived.
But this revelation only brings more questions bubbling to the surface.
Is that what these random memories and Déjà vu moments are?
Have I met him in a past life?
How many lives have I lived already?
How many more will I endure?
But before I am pulled under the current of my own thoughts,Zayne starts up again.
“Anger, lust, kindness, sadness, fear, empathy, rage.” He pauses, staring down at me.
I trail where his eyes are directed, seeing my scar peaking past my sweater. Quickly, I cover it back up, seeing the effect it seems to invoke in him.
