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“No,” I answered a little too quickly, and his eyebrow quirked up in question. “I’m not having second thoughts, and even if I was, it’s too late to do anything about it, right?” He pressed his lips together, eyes clouding over slightly. “I’m not, I promise. That was a joke. I want to be bound to you. I love you, Timothy, I do.”
Timothy let out a huff of breath, shaking his head. “All right, all right, I’m sorry. I’ve been overthinking this—how you feel about it. I’ve wanted this for a long time, since the day I decided to ask you out. I just wasn’t sure when to ask you but with the war and all…” His words drifted off, and I watched as he turned his attention toward the edge of the village where the pier was.
“Timothy,” I said softly, but his attention was gone, his thoughts far away.
I had a pretty good idea of what was on his mind, but I didn’t dare try to pry him out of those thoughts. When Timothy needed his time, I had to let him take it. He did the same for me, which was part of the reason I loved him. He understood me a lot better than even my father and brother did, sometimes even better than my best friend.
My eyes flickered down to the village in front of us. We were on the tip of the hill, pushed back enough so that any prying eyes looking up couldn’t see us and question what we were doing. Reaching out, I took Timothy’s hand and intertwined our fingers, squeezing his hand gently. This drew his attention back to me, and Timothy blinked several times, gathering his bearings as he returned to the present moment.
“What are you thinking?” I asked curiously and reached up, brushing my fingers over his forehead. “I want to know what you’re thinking.”
His fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling my hand down to press his lips against my fingers. “I’m thinking about how I wouldn’t be able to live life without you. If I ever got drafted, I’d want to run away with you into the wilderness so I don’t have to go to war.”
The smile twitched my lips, but I pressed them together to keep any bout of laughter from leaving my mouth. Timothy and I both knew that would be impossible. There were very few stories of runaways, and they were always tracked down, no matter what, which never ended well. The consequences were always severe. I didn’t want Timothy to go through that, not because of me.
“We should get back,” I jerked my head toward the village. “Before we’re really missed.”
At nineteen years old, I didn’t have to answer anyone. I didn’t to tell Dad or Jasper where I was going, with who, and when I’d be back. I was an adult. But that didn’t I shouldn’t respect them. I at least told them I was going with a friend, not exactly with who and what we were doing, it was a peace of mind sort of deal To show that I was coming back and was safe. Because I was always safe with Timothy. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d ever felt scared in his presence. I knew it had nothing do with the binding.
I’d learned long ago that was far worse in the world to deal with. Vampires and werewolves were tame compared what truly lurked out in the world and I knew that. I’d experienced the reality. No bedtime story about a fanged creature coming to suck my blood could scare me. No other kids, that I knew of, knew the truth. I wasn’t concerned with telling them either.
I shoved the memories from my mind before they could drown me again. They dragged me to a dark place if I let them, and sometimes I did unwillingly. Somewhere that even the depths of the ocean would be ashamed of. It was a frightening place, and it took all my willpower to not be dragged down. I couldn’t let myself go there, especially not now.
It was also the one thing Timothy didn’t know about me. I was afraid that if he knew that bit of truth, he’d leave me with a look of disgust. Maybe I was overthinking it, but if it terrified me to live with it, what would it do to him? That was a question I didn’t want an answer to, ever.
“Where do you go?” he asked, shattering the fragmented thoughts in my mind. I desperately tried to put pieces together, but the edges were jagged.
“Huh?” I asked, taking in that we’d moved down the hill and were making our way toward the village this time. I couldn’t even remember beginning to walk, let alone Timothy agreeing to return home.
“You zone out sometimes. Where do you go? What takes you away?”
I shook my head, unable to answer him – unwilling to answer him. “Just deep in my thoughts, I guess.” I shrugged as if it were no big deal.
Sometimes, I suspected he could sense the lie like a predator lying in wait for when their prey was at its most vulnerable so they could attack. He didn’t press me, though. He never did. I was grateful for that, despite it making my heart throb. If anyone deserved one hundred percent honesty, it was Timothy. I wished I could give him that, but the words didn’t want to leave my throat for him.
He intertwined our fingers again, pulling my hand up to kiss it, his lips lingering. These moments had become fewer, and they would only space out even more once he was drafted. I wanted to scream for him not to go, that he could pretend to be ill. Or we could go with his idea and run away. But as usual, I turned away to keep my mouth shut. The trouble wasn’t worth it; it never was. All we could do for now was spend as much time as possible in one another’s arms, make the memories worth it for when he left, so he’d remember who was returning to who in the end.
ChapterThree
I’m five, and I’m crying. Why am I crying? Oh right, the scary things around us. The things that look like skeletons teeter above us, mouthless with gaping holes for their eyes. I’m terrified, and my throat hurts from the sobbing. Snot dribbles down over my lips and chin, and my body is convulsing. I can’t breathe, so I draw in ragged breaths, my lungs burning from the effort. I sputter, cough, and start crying all over again.
Giant spiders scuttle around us, blocking us in. I scream and grip Mommy’s arm as tightly as my pudgy little hands allow. I begged her to make them go away. Where’s Daddy and Jasper? It’s just us right now, and I’m so scared. Daddy will make us safe, he always does, but he’s nowhere around.
One of the skeletons steps forward and points a bony finger at me. I curl into Mommy, burying my face into her shirt, smearing my snot and tears all over it. Mommy doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, she just holds me tightly to her side, refusing to let me go.
“You can’t take her,” Mommy pleads, and for the first time in my five years of life, I hear her voice crack.
I’ve never heard Mommy cry before. She’s always so strong! Is she scared too? Of course she is, but she’s holding it together. For me, isn’t she? I clutch her tighter in case the scary monsters try to peel me away from her. I won’t go with them. I have to stay with Mommy.
“You can’t take her, Alduin. Take me, please. You can have me. Just not her.”
Her words ring in my mind, and for a moment, the sobs rescind, replaced by a few hiccups. She can’t be serious? She won’t really go with these monsters, will she?
Boots crunch over the ground, and I draw my eyes up to see a man in an overcoat step out of the shadows, looking down at us. His eyes remind me of the coal we use in winter to keep our little cabin warm. I can’t pull my gaze away, my little heart thundering so hard I swear it’s about to burst out of my chest.
“You do realize what you’re saying, don’t you, Helen?” he asks, the use of Mommy’s name shocking me.
He knows her? Why does this scary-looking man know her? I look up at Mommy, but she won’t look at me. Her white hair falls down around her shoulders like it does mine.
