Chapter 33

I'm forced to watch. I don't know if I'm dead, or how I'm dead because I can't die, but regardless, I watch. Things, maybe memories of someone else flash across my eyes and I wish it were red hair I was seeing, but I'm seeing other people and I don't know what's going on.

It's both exhilarating to not know and fear inducing.

I have no control.

I am not perfect.

I watch.

I watch as a twisted version of myself shatters herself on the stones and splatters with a resounding crack.

Tears stream down my red stained cheeks, my eyes puffy, a long, slender cut on the face, "You have deluded yourself into thinking that at the end of this pain and suffering and misery, that we will be able to live in a world we are proud to have made." I throw my hands up into the air, desperate to do something, to have control back because I can't do this, I can't live in a world where death rules the heart. I stare at my hands, clenching and unclenching them, my fingernails leaving marks in my hands, a few drawing even more blood.

My voice deepens with desperation and fear and so much emotion rising to the surface all at once that I'm drowning in the sea of everything that is wrong and every mistake I have ever made and every misstep that I am bound to make, "I cannot. I will not- do this."

The girl who had previously had her back to me, turns to face my shaking figure. I don't know if I am bursting with rage or trying not to cower in fear. I look as if I've lost my mind and I have no clue where I am and everything is ending and I never got to say goodbye and I am lost. I will forever be lost in a place that death calls its home.

Her blue eyes bore into my skull, my essence and being and I know that she is everything and nothing and she is a compilation of conflictions because she is lost too and she must be broken because no one is capable of looking so empty unless they are shattered.

She is in a million pieces and those eyes, flame damn those eyes, reflect every inch of her pain and struggle. She stares at me in distress and my hands are shaking and I don't know what to do, so I stand stock still and I don't move because I am pinned in place by those haunting, light blue orbs that have the reflection of all that is wrong in them.

Her hands lay still at her sides, shaking slightly with the adrenaline of fighting a war and the emotional turmoil that runs it's river through her blood, "I don't know what to do other than to hope. You seem so determined to bring yourself down- to bring everyone down along with you. You have no hope and it's so sad that you live this way. I'm the one," She points to herself, her face set into determination and true fear builds itself into my bones and quacks my world. There is no confusion with this all consuming feeling of everything going to the Hells. "I am the one who cannot do this. I suffer every moment in your presence."

My face twists up into something ugly. I am bitter and afraid and I do not want to let go, but I must drive her away, because there is no other way. I drag her farther down into my death ridden soul with every moment near her. She's right. I need to leave- to leave her. A sneer takes over my face and I can't take anything back because I am about to ruin my life and set hers free, "Walk out the door. This isn't your home and it never will be."

My hands stop shaking and I am no longer afraid because everything is gone and I can't be mad or angry or so deeply afraid and sad that I throw myself off a cliff. No- this stops it all and I continue as her face contorts into a pain that I regret- no, I can't regret- inflicting. She flinches and reaches for the table, her hand hurling around it as she backs carefully away from me. I laugh and it comes out like death and cruelty incarnate, "You think that you mean anything. You- the mortal witch- who doesn't know what it is to live?"

Although she shakes, closes her eyes, trying to shield herself from my words and the meaning in them, she takes her free hand and drags it through her red locks, "You do not mean that- You are not- I know you. Don't destroy what we have because you are afraid. All I want is for you to face your fear and be able to overcome it. I don't want a fight and I don't want to hurt you. I'm sorry, alright? Even if I love you, it's hard. I don't know you and I want to make you your best self and I see that you're drowning and you need help."

"You need to leave." My voice takes on a deadly edge, my temper the balance of a blade. If she says much more I'll have to give in because I always give into Marian Vashek and I need her gone before I bleed the life out of her.

My very essence is soul sucking and I destroy everything I touch because I am the venus fly trap, I lure you in with the promise of beauty and I take yours to compensate for mine.

She steadies her hands even as mine start to more uneasily again. I must be dead, but I am alive because I cannot die and I want to be dead here and now- on the spot. I need to be dead before I can kill her with my poisonous kiss. She take a brave step forward, steeling herself for whatever she's about to do and I know it has to be bad because now my feet need to shuffle back and my wings, out and ready, hit the wall and they sting with a sensation that must feel like pain.

She cups my cheek and leans in to brush her nose against mine and I can't speak because I am frozen in the blue depths of her eyes. Drowning, drowning, drowning. This is what drowning feels like. I'm dying and surviving and learning to live and yearning for more. More time, more love, more goodbyes.

Her cheek rubs mine and her light blue gaze meets mine and my breath is gone. She has every facet of me under her control and she doesn't even know it because she still shakes, as is every move she makes is a risk she may not be able to afford.

Her lashes brush mine and her breath fans my lips as she whispers her words, no hesitation in them, though I can feel her uncertainty, "I love you."

I tell myself that I am not capable of loving, but the words come out of my mouth before I can check myself. I am a poison, but it is too late, "I love you, too."

A smile of relief overtakes her as she lets a breath out against my lips and she's so, so, so very beautiful that I want to pull her lips against my own and never let her go because I just can't help myself.

I, the addict, she, the drug. I want to do this too much and I am so afraid. I cannot do this- I must. "Marry me."

I can't help my answer. I can't stop myself. She is mine and I am hers and I would be lost without her and I am in love and this cannot be changed. "Yes."

The vision fades and I am again the ghost, but instead of blackness, I hover over what I believe to be my dead body. Draven is there and so is Leander and Aaliyah and they must know- know that I'm maybe dead, but that can't be. It never is.

I make sure to push the red haired, brilliant queen, out of mind before fully looking them over.

Gislee is clutching my bracelet in her hand, the one I had just gotten from the basement of memories. Her face is ashen and I wonder if she's a ghost too. She looks that part, for sure.

Gislee looks down at the mangled mess that barely resembles me. I am so bloody and torn, but it's not as bad as the first time. I had done it to myself. There was no one else who could and I was to be crowned queen and I had no power and I wasn't a part of the family lines of power. Black blood leaks out the corner of my pale lips. My hair is tangled. My hands are broken, their fingers ruined. I am gone and in my place lies a version of me that I don't want to look at any longer.

"She was dead before I was able to finish, but I did anyway. I was sure this was a part of the process." Gislee says. She looks so full of sorrow that I feel kind of bad for causing so much pain. I am a poison so deadly, you don't know it's infected you until you drop dead to the dirt.

Draven clenching his hands, his face tight, his cufflinks thrown elsewhere and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Leander's almond eyes are downcast in sadness. Aaliyah is still, her eyes brimming with wetness that doesn't dare fall over, her hands locked behind her back as she straightens her back, "Then the last Aculiac is well and truly lost to us. Flame only knows the fallout of her death."

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