“No knocking?” I sass, cocking a brow at him, but he ignores me as he moves around to the contraption I’d rather knownothing about. Unluckily for me, it’s as if he senses my thoughts, placing a hand on the side of it as he locks eyes with me.
“Get in.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “No, thanks.”
His lips purse as he sighs, tilting his head at me as a bored expression washes over his features. “You really don’t need to make it as hard as this, Elodie,” he states, and I fold my arms over my chest defensively.
“You really didn’t need to insert yourself in my life, make me believe you were my fucking savior, encourage me to lean on you, trust in you, only to be the biggest con artist of them all.” My chest heaves as my words hang in the air.
He clears his throat, waving his free hand at the floating bed chamber. “It’s a healing tank. Two hours in here and you’ll feel rejuvenated,” he offers, ignoring everything I just said. The words are seemingly meant to encourage me, but all they do is tighten my spine as I narrow my stare at him.
“Or?”
Another deep exhale, and he grunts. “Or what?”
“What if I don’t want to get in?” I clarify, refusing to move a step closer as fear trickles through my veins, the truth rearing its ugly head in my mind.
What if I’m too scared of the small space?
If Walker notices my tension, he doesn’t show it. “You either get in, or we put you in,” he states firmly, and frustration claws up my throat as I jab a finger at him.
“I won’t just bend to your will like everyone else,” I promise, turning for the door. The last thing I want to do is be any closer to the tank, but anticipation tingles deep in my soul, making it impossible for me to stand still.
My fingers reach for the door handle, but before I get the luxury of feeling the brass knob against my palm, I’m lifted off my feet. I scream, frustration charging me as Walker slings meover his shoulder, striding back toward my worst nightmare as the exit grows farther and farther away.
Determined not to give up without a fight, I kick, yell, and punch at his back like a feral bitch, but it’s no use; it’s impossible for me to overpower him. Taking a deep breath, I still myself a beat before I slam my palm against his lower back, the closest part of him I can get my hands on, but nothing happens.
There’s no time for me to try and ground myself like the woman had taught me before he lowers me into the tank. I yelp, crying his name, but the second my ass hits the base, the lid closes, trapping me inside.
Hysteria coils in my chest as I slam my hands against the glass. “Walker! Walker, please,” I beg, pounding my hands hard and desperate against the top and sides as they press in around me, but he slinks out of view, seemingly without a care, as nausea burns deep in my throat.
Tears burn the back of my eyelids as my breathing becomes labored, while black splotches taint the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision.
Despite my panic, I hear a slight hiss from above and peer up to see a soft puff of air float from a vent by my head. After two stiff inhalations, I can’t tell if it’s the air or my fear that’s making me drowsy. By the fifth short breath, it doesn’t matter as I succumb to the darkness.
It drenches me, my body lax and my mind quiet. I find my breathing slowly starts to even out as my pulse echoes around me. Certain death is upon me as I melt into the shadows that claim me, but before the end arrives, a flash of gray dances across my vision, quickly revealing itself as a gothic castle.
Turrets frame the tall towers that stand miles in the air, while the wooden doors stand bolted shut on the other side of the moat. The river runs calmly, the sound soothing, but as thebreeze flutters around me, I find my attention caught on one thing.
My breath hitches as I narrow my stare, blinking in disbelief as I spy a balcony just off to the left of the entryway. It’s not the dark gray stone pillars that harbor my attention, but the person sitting on the edge, legs dangling over the side as they stare out at the land.
Frowning, I clear my throat, ready to test their name on the tip of my tongue, when their gaze snaps to mine, drenching me in their pitch black depths. Frozen in place, I know I’m dreaming, but I croak one word nonetheless. Letting the weight of it take root in my soul.
“Thorne.”
8
THORNE
When I’m lost, there’s one thing I do to escape it all and find my place again: I sleep. Sleeping allows me the one luxury I can’t have in real life, no matter how much I desire it.
Home.
My homeland stands untouched, the castle that I once walked the halls of still standing strong, despite the fractures that have torn at my soul until there is nothing left. I can never step inside the fortress that once held all of my happiness. Instead, I dare to sit on the balcony ledge, staring at the kingdom that once was.
It’s bleak, sad, and hollow, a complete representation of me. Without my sister’s laughter, my mother’s sweet words, and my father’s wisdom, it doesn’t create the same warmth in my heart like it used to, but if I close my eyes, I can almost feel it.
When I’m here, I feel like I can breathe and accept the truths I refuse to expose in the real world. There haven’t been many truths I haven’t been able to do this with, not until recently, and despite my reluctance, I know exactly why.
