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But death’s grip didn’t stop there.
Like a promise that I would meet the same fate, my health started to decline. It was subtle at first, but like a cancer, it grew until I was sure that death’s heavy hand would pull me to the other side where I would join my brother and mother earlier than I ever intended.
Just as I was losing all hope, my sister’s vengeful angel severed death’s ice-cold fingers, coming to my rescue for a second time and giving Layla the means to help me get better.
Even after Alaric made sure I got my operation and I was given a clean bill of health, death never let me out of its hold. Its nails dug deeper into my soul and spoiled everything from within, like rot that I can’t scrape off no matter how much I try.
“Zoey?” my sister calls, bringing me out of my reverie. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply, noticing that I have been staring off into space instead of grabbing my water like I intended. I snap open the bottle and take a sip of the cool water, wishing it could wash away all these solemn thoughts.
My sister stares at me long and hard, making cold sweat run down my back.
“Stop looking at me like that. I told you I was fine,” I snap, sounding meaner than I intended.
She takes a minute longer to stare at me, each second making my heart jackhammer in my chest. I’ve tried to hide my darkness from Layla as much as possible. She’s happy now. She found her happily ever after and has a beautiful home and family to prove it. I don’t want to be the thing that tarnishes that for her. My sister has suffered enough in her life, and she doesn’t need me to drag her down to my own personal hell.
“Layla,” I start but shut my mouth when she holds up her hand.
“I was serious when I said you could move back home. If life at college is too hard for you, then we can also put a pin in it for a while.”
My shoulders instantly relax when I realize how far off she is.
Of course my sister would think that my inner turmoil is caused by a heavy schedule back at school. I mean, why wouldn’t she? That would be the normal conclusion to leap to.
There is no way would she ever think that her baby sister has been in a deadly match with death since she was eight. That I dream of darkness and thrive in its shadows. That death’s grip feels like an old lover’s embrace to me now, protectively keeping me warm at night and reminding me that it will never let me go.
No.
Layla would find a plausible real-world problem to point a finger at. She would never suspect that I feel like I’m death’s paramour.
I put on a smile and walk over to her, hugging her from behind as I place my chin on her shoulder. “You have to stop worrying about me, Layla. I can handle a little schoolwork.”
She places her hands on mine and gives it a little squeeze. “I’ll never stop worrying about you, Zoey. You’re my baby sister.”
“Well, your baby sister is all grown up now. I’ve got this, so don’t worry, okay?”
“Are you sure?” she asks, concerned.
No. No, I’m not. I’m drowning, Layla.
Those aren’t the words I tell her. Instead, my smile only widens. “Worry about the little ones upstairs. I’m good. I promise,” I lie, and when I feel her body relax, guilt starts clawing away at my throat. “Speaking of school, I should head back to the dorms. I don’t want to be out past curfew.”
“Alaric will be sad that he missed you, but I don’t want you to be late. I’ll make sure he’s here for next Sunday’s dinner,” she replies softly.
“You do that.” I smile, kissing her cheek before I walk into the living room to grab my backpack.
After I have my things, Layla walks me to the door and waves me off. Since I know she won’t budge until I’ve left, I start my car and slowly drive away from her street. Once I’m a few blocks away, I find a dark parking space and grab my bag. I take out a shimmering black halter top, my black leather miniskirt, and high-heeled boots to match, and then proceed to take off my flowery summer dress that I wore over to my sister’s place. Layla wouldn’t mind my clothing choice so much if I ever showed up at the house dressed in my usual gear, but Alaric would lose his shit if he saw me showing off so much skin.
To him, I’m still his little girl, and it’s just easier for me to let him hold onto that image, but I haven’t been a little girl in quite some time now. Maybe I never really was, not when the only time I truly feel alive is when death is close by.
Tonight, I fully intend to walk the tightrope between light and shadows, not really caring which side I end up landing on.
Let the dark have at it. It feels better there anyway.
CHAPTER3
Zoey
