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Maybe I didn’t. I can’t say for sure.
Pushing up, I swing my feet over the side, waiting for the pain to rush in and knock me over, but it doesn‘t come. I’m fully healed and it fucking sucks because the only pain left is of the mental kind. The kind that hides its scars deep inside your mind where no one else can see them.
At the thought, my insides seem to shrivel, causing me to wince.
Oookay, so it is still physical, but that, I’ll have to get used to, because I refuse to allow the one person who can stop that particular part of the pain to do so. Not that he would.
He’d rather die, I’m sure.
I mean, that’s not a bad idea...
No. He’ll only kill me first and I don’t want him to get to live out that fantasy of his. He doesn’t deserve to get everything he wants, so if someone is doing the killing, it’s me.
Slowly rising, I move to the window, but as I push the black curtains back, a heavy level of grey smoke appears, swirling and sparking angrily and I jump back.
“What the fuck?” But as it continues to spark, something within me eases, a false sense of security settling over me. Still, I step forward again, and this time, I slide the window open.
At first, the smoke suffocates me. It sweeps in, whirling around me, squeezing my lungs until there's nothing left within them. Nothing but the savory taste of ... whatever the fuck this is.
But then it eases, pressing against my skin like the softest of pillows. My eyes close on their own accord, and my palms open, the smoke tethering itself to my hands as if to hold them, and for a moment, my lips twitch to smile.
Finally, something soft. Something … loving.
My eyes fly open at the naïve thought, and I throw the window closed, stumbling away from it.
The smoke grows enraged then, slapping at the glass so heavily I wait for it to crack. Rushing forward, I yank the curtains closed, and after a moment, the sound stops, but I don’t look to see if it’s gone. Clearly, I’m not supposed to see what's beyond these walls. Truthfully, it's probably nothing but the rings of fucking Saturn.
Turning around, I glare at the pristine room, walking over to the golden dresser and throw everything off it with one swipe of my hands. Crystal crashes to the floor, and this time, I do smile, and then I move to the fireplace in the corner. I take the stones from within it and drag them along the walls, scratching and scraping every inch I can reach.
I knock the nightstands on their ass, and tear the drawers from their brackets, shucking the contents all across the room. I shred the sheets next, tearing open the pillows and spilling the red feathers within them all over.
Hopping up, I run back to the fireplace, searching for an on button or book of matches so I can burn this fucking place to the ground, but there is none.
“Because magical motherfuckers don’t need such things to kickstart the flames.” I growl, tugging on my hair as I rush for the bathroom door.
It's made of glass, so I kick it with the bottom of my bare foot over and over until it cracks, and then I throw my shoulder through it, stomping on the glass, ready to destroy everything in sight. The first thing I see when I walk into the giant ass space made of pure glass, is the stand in the corner.
It's an addict's wet dream. Bottle after bottle, of what who the fuck knows because it’s all sitting in crystal decanters, but who fucking cares. It must be something good if it's here.
I head right for it, removing the tops and throwing them behind me.
I swig from the first bottle, shaking my head as it burns its way down and then I drink from the second one. The third, fourth, and so on. Swiping the back of my hand across my mouth, I hold one bottle in the other, using it to knock the rest to the floor. Not all break, but all spill, the liquid rolling over my toes and beyond.
Then I move to the red crystal platter.
Small powder containers are filled to the brim with I can only assume is Fae dust. Some pink, some blue, some pink and blue, but the last one is the one I go for. The one I’m not so sure is like the others. It’s red, gleaming, and something tells me it’s the strongest.
I pull it to my nose, and my eyes roll back at the mouthwatering scent, it’s like sugar-dipped saffron. I pour some between my thumb and pointer finger, licking it off with one swipe.
My body sways instantly and I pull in a full breath, exhaling as my muscles relax. As my insides turn to mush and flutter with excitement. The utter emptiness a fucking gift, now more than ever.
I turn the shower on, peeling my clothes from my skin one item at a time and take another long drink from the bottle.I sway a little, a small, numb smile pulling at my lips, but as I spin back around, I catch my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror, and everything in me freezes.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, stepping closer to the counter.
My fingers tremble as I bring them to my cheeks, hollow as if lacking life, my under-eyes black as if I really am as dead as I feel. The blood on my arms didn’t seem so bad when I first looked down at them, but in this mirror, I see everything. They’re caked, coated, as are my legs.
There’s still a cut on my forehead from where I wouldn’t allow Silver to finish healing me. Blood sticks in clumps of my hair. It's matted and dark and ... not just my blood.
