Chapter 55 – Frosty Predicament, Bozeman Christmas (Samson Conrad POV) Pt.2

"Taylor did what?" Fatima says softly, her voice heavy. No maybe it's not so much her voice but the fog that I have to hear her through. "Are you sure?"

There is silence.

I wish for it to be filled somehow as my body feels as though I've been dipped in ice. Left to freeze. Chill from the outside in. It wouldn't take much; the blood running in my veins is filled with ice.

"It was a lovely ceremony," Taylor said softly. She went to the wake and funeral that I could not snap out of my rage and disbelief to attend. "I mean Silas would have hated it. Everyone was crying and all and you know he would have wanted us to secretly have water balloons to toss at one another," as the memory floods my sense, I curse my self.

I crave the quiescence.

"It – it should have been both of us," I whispered brokenly, weeks later. Taylor shakes her head from left to right rapidly, hair fanning out. "This was not your fault. Silas was reckless Samson, you know that."

Now. Not then. The air inside me rushes out and her words echo in my head, cut off in places. "Okay, I'm writing."

"B – E – R – T – Y – D – E – E – L – A – N – O – R."

"B – E – T – R – A – Y – N – O – E – L – D – E – R."

"Yes, I understand, okay. Yes."

"I'm a constant remind of what they lost Tay," she was the one I could say these things too, she missed my twin not more than myself, but enough to be able to relate to the loneliness that spread after Silas died. "No, you... I'm – I miss him Samson," she cried, wiping tears from her cheeks, "But, it would be unbearable if you would have been taken from everyone too." It was harsh winter without him.

"Why him? Why not me?"

"When my older sister died, Javier asked our parents that and they said that sometimes we love people that are not meant to be with us forever. That we should think of her as our guardian angel-"

"No he's not. He's just... frozen," Fatima says.

At the same time, I feel pressure against my skin. My hand.

"I keep looking for signs," I revealed to the person I trusted most. "What kind of signs?" she asked me in return, hanging on my every word, with no intention of looking at me as though I had partially lost my mind. She was the only one that didn't gaze at me with pity or worse, longing. Never had I hated my face as I had then.

It never went away.

I had the face of a ghost. Guilt and the face of what was lost was my cross to bear.

"I just – from S-Silas," the ache was raw, agonizing to speak his name. "I go to sleep hoping that maybe... we're twins... I mean if there was a way to reach me... he'd reach out and I'm just... I'm waiting... or maybe the signs are there and I cannot – I'm the one not paying attention," swallowing.

Now. I shake my head slowly. The things I revealed. How – I am nothing but a fool!

"Samson," two hands, delicately turn my face to theirs.

Green.

Caring and concerned.

Honest.

Fretted.

"You can push everyone else away Samson, but I won't let you push me away-" as the memory and conviction in Taylors words hits my mind, I jump from my seat, vision blurred I only just make it to the garbage bag we used to house our waste.

As bile is expelled, a hand soft, unsure rubs my back.

It comforting. Or maybe the person doing it brings me the ease I don't feel I deserve but seek. I crave her touch, any kind of touch. Her scent brings me peace as well, and somehow she's gotten deep inside me.

In my bones.

Instead of the many conversations flickering chaotic in my mind, I concentrate on the girl I adore. She is nothing I imagined or thought seriously would bring me to my knees.

Her hair, brown, curly, is unruly.

Her eyes much too big for her face, but they scream all the right things to me.

Her skin, soft and an olive undertone, feel heavenly.

Lips plump, full, mold perfectly to mine, our inexperience obvious but ignored. Slowly, I learn to read her.

I think of where she's been, put myself in her shoes.

It could have gone one of two ways. Her personal space should never be encroached or, she craves touch yet is unsure how to seek it.

Of course with Fatima it is both.

When she melts into me, against me, sighing and rolling her body towards me she is all-aware of the space I'm invading.

But, does it feel like I'm trespassing?

Instead of all the memories reaching as far back as I can remember that have now been turned sour, repulsing me entirely, I concentrate on my girl. The one thing Taylor will never get the satisfaction of calling herself.

Panting, the vile scent of my vomit overwhelming, I stand and walk with purpose, tossing the trash. Walking away, just needing space I head outside, going forty feet, then a hundred then two, nearly eight with my waste until I decide I've gone too far. I'm nowhere near town, but still too far from the house. Dropping out waste, I dig a hole before flattening the bag in the space and covering it up.

Sighing heavily, the cold air whipping through the sweater I wore, I turn to walk back towards the house when I see Luca out, hands shoved in his pockets.

"How are you?" he asks, and all I can do in return in sigh, looking past him. Still six hundred feet away from just the driveway leading up to the house, he looks over his shoulder as well.

"Faith wanted to come after you," Luca lets me know, the wind nipping as his wet hair. "Did she send you instead?" I asked my throat raw now, a bitter after taste left in my mouth.

"Uhm, practically had to beg her to let me come instead," I look up at his, baffled. If anything Luca and I were only close because of this situation. Why would he want to be the one to check on me?

Snorting, he laughs, "I know. You'd prefer her to me, but... there's ice out here and honestly... the girl has one hand in a cast, the other is recovering from burns, and I think Imogen told me that she had stitches on the bottom of her foot just removed like a month ago..." it's not funny, but I immediately see where Luca was going with this.

"I mean with that kind of luck, she'd probably... I don't know. Twist her ankle and break the other hand falling down."

I cocked my head to the side thoughtfully, grateful for the distraction.

Rearranging a few thoughts I narrow my eyes at Luca. Comparing his behavior for the last few days, at least I can see everything where he is concerned clearly. 

"Ah... so Rhys... he is the one that pushed you out here," I say leaping again, but also using the last few days to really pull that out and make it clear.

For a moment, Luca gazes at me. Then, he nods slowly. "Wyatt had that girl in Zedwood, teaching her the things he has, she is of great importance." I note that Luca does not say the word 'if' once.

Exhaling even after he's spoken, the words hang heavy between us as I try to push out unwanted thoughts and concentrate one this. On this moment here because getting lost in the torrents of pain Taylor has caused me only drained me.

I would never give her further satisfaction.

So with that, I focus on Luca.

"For Wyatt to have broken the laws he has," Luca pauses, but he holds my gaze strongly, "I do not believe that Faith is here to help those like Seraphima and myself."

"She is here for a whole other reason," I shiver, not from the cold but from the foreboding tone Luca used. No... that was not it completely. It wasn't just the tone. No, it was the fact that even he was afraid; not for Fatima, but for the reason he believed she was sent here.

My mouth waters and the bitter taste, the smell that lingers on my skin remind me of what I'm battling and seeking to ignore.

"If these houses... the ones that Dmitri has built, if we continue on and find more," Luca acts as though he does not take in my ever movement and reaction now. I'm actually thankful. I won't be able to ignore it forever, it will remain on my mind, lingering.

"Honestly, the house she was in, the barn and now this place. What Faith believed the world was like; I think she is just the forewarning to what is to come. I don't believe there is anyway to stop what she has seen, only methods in which to prepare."

"Zedwood only remains if this Realm holds strong," Luca murmurs walking backwards before heading back to the house, stunned I follow him. Looking around, my eyes falls on a pine tree, maybe six or seven feet tall, full and round.

"She's never had a Christmas tree before," I whisper, but Luca is close enough to hear me. "She's never had Christmas ham, or movies, lounging around, never played in the snow... had Christmas lights..." for now I focus on Fatima.

Of course I knew many never had those experiences but, right now, my focus was her.

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we all know what happens when you ignore a problem. sigh.