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I remember a smelly, cold cell.
I remember making diamonds and being watched by men with skulls tattooed onto their faces.
I remember women screaming late at night, begging to be left alone.
I remember a skeleton brought to life.
I remember a woman bruised and battered, in a state far worse than me.
I tried to heal her. I promised to keep her safe.
She’spregnant.
Faith!
Where is she? Where's Faith?
"Ffff!" I try to call her name, but my voice won't sound, the pain in my throat is too much.
It hurts.
It hurts so much.
Tears well in my eyes, tipping over my lashes.
There's something else, something painful just at the edges of my consciousness. I struggle against the memory.
Then it hits me.
Blood.
So much blood.
“Don’t cry for me. I want you to live... Just live for me and my baby…”
She's dead.
My friend's dead.
I promised she'd be okay. I promised I would save her.
But I couldn't.
I didn't.
Pain unlike anything I've known rushes over me and I'm sucked into a whirlpool of grief, sinking beneath the waves, drowning from the agony.
"Cynthia, it's okay. It's okay," Christy says, panic littering her voice as she strokes my arm, but I don't feel her touch. I'm numb. "Arden. Get over here.”
"Cyn, I'm so sorry," he says, the amber eyes of Arden–a man my heart knows but my mind refuses to fully remember–flicking with concern as he snakes a hand through his coal black hair. "We couldn't save her."
We couldn't save her.
Faith.
Behind him another man stares at me. He has white-blonde hair and silver-blue eyes.
I know him too, of course I do. It’sLorcan. Next to him is the man who said he was taking me home.Carrick.
