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Chapter 6
Harmonia
Frustration coils in my stomach. It’s been there since the moment Alexi stormed from the room earlier, draining the space of energy and leaving me completely exhausted. Even now, as the water rains over me in the shower, I feel no lighter.
I recall the looks on Malik’s and Talon’s faces as clearly as if they were still standing right in front of me. They seemed confused, perplexed, and mildly intrigued by everything unraveling before them while I was left in a state of despair.
Yesterday, I was barely recovering from having my magic cuffed and being brutally attacked by Selene, the supremest of bitches, ready to take on the world at war by my best friend's side. And today I find myself cooped up in a stunning house with no outlet for… anything.
I’ve gone from a badass bitch to a mopey fucking Cinderella.
It’s embarrassing to admit how much time I spent at the table after the three of them left, confused by my conflicting emotions. I don’t think it helps that they seem to be giving me completely mixed signals, but here we are.
Malik is as quiet and pensive as ever, Talon is flirty and playful like I remember, but there’s also an air of reservation around him now, while Alexi… fuck, he’s colder and sharper than I ever remember him being. His anger was prominent before, but now it seems to have consumed him and I’m not sure if it's because he truly hates me or because he hates the decision I made six years ago.
Fuck.
Pushing my hair back off my face, I wring out the ends before shutting off the shower and wrapping a towel around my body. A sigh slips past my lips at how fluffy and soft the navy material is and I hold it tighter against my skin.
I take a few breaths, eyeing the pile of clothes on the floor that I arrived in. I slipped into Malik’s room to get them before taking my shower, fully intending to put them on, but they look like they’ve seen better days.
With my mind made up, I dry off and pull Malik’s tee back over my body, forgoing the boxers, before brushing my hair back off my face. My clothes, and the boxers, need washing. It can’t be too difficult to find the laundry room without snooping too hard, right?
Opening the bathroom door, I head downstairs, hating every ounce of the eerie silence that fills the house. We’re going to have to have a real talk if this is supposed to be my future. I have no clothes except what I arrived in, no skincare products, no phone…
I have nothing, and I’ll happily raise hell if necessary.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I shake my head, focusing on the here and now instead of the argument I know will erupt between the four of us at a later stage. Or between Alexi and me at least.
Moving into the large open space at the back of the house, I sigh pleasantly at the view that greets me through the panoramic glass doors before searching for the laundry room. I spy a door to the far left of the kitchen space and hurry in that direction.
I hope they’re not so reliant upon their magic that they don’t do laundry the normal way, otherwise I’m screwed, because I haven’t figured the mundane shit out yet. Thankfully, when I twist the door knob it swings open to reveal exactly what I need.
The entire room is white; the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the cupboards, the appliances, everything. Everything except the small green plant on the shelf above the dryer and a small gray box that sits beside it.
Inching my way into the room, I open the washer door and place my clothes inside. After opening a few cupboard doors, I find the detergent and fabric softener I need and set to work getting the machine going.
Once the space is filled with the sound of the spinning washer, I find myself with nothing to do yet again. They’ve been gone for nearly five hours.
Five.I’ve counted.
In that time, I’ve tried every external door and window, which, surprise surprise, didn’t open. Not even a little bit. Then I grumbled and cursed to myself as I slumped on the sofa before choosing one of the delicious premade meals from the fridge and opting to take a shower.
I sigh, for what must be the hundredth time today, before my eyes settle on the small gray box beside the plant. Intrigue, as always, gets the better of me, and I find myself reaching up on my tiptoes to pull it down.
Once it’s in my hand, I realize it’s actually a device, and I startle once I turn it on and music fills the air. A burst of laughter flies past my lips as I look down at the small music system and I squeal with joy when the next song comes on.
It’s one of my favorite pop songs about being a badass bitch and not taking shit from anyone. I get my love for this kind of music from my mom, and the thought instantly makes me miss her. I have a feeling Rhea will have told her where I am by now, and if I know my mom she’ll be trusting in these three to take care of me. She knows our situation, the one I have refused to address since the afternoon they showed up on my doorstep. If only she knew they put me in a fucking cell when I got here.
Placing the sound system back on the shelf, I let the music continue playing as I brace my hands on the washer and take a deep breath. I really need to stop going around in circles with my emotions. I’m giving myself a large dose of whiplash with a side order of headache and it’s not fun.
I have to accept that I’m here, accept that my past is now my present and future, and get on with it. My stomach clenches at the thought, my worry for Rhea getting the better of me. They’re never going to let me help her, and something tells me they have their hands too full to be able to assist either.
It’s not that I have any doubt in her abilities, but my loyalty and support of my best friend is important and I can’t offer her any of that from here.
The song changes in the background, pulling me from my frustrated thoughts and putting a smile on my face. This is my favorite upbeat song to dance along to and it immediately puts me in a better head space as my hips sway slightly from side to side.
Reaching up on my tiptoes, I find the volume bar and turn this baby all the way up. I love the way it can lift the weight from my shoulders and the pain from my chest, both of which I’ve carried for too long. My euphoria of feeling free may only last until the final chord is played, but fuck, I’ll take it.
