The two fae die in pools of blood.
Draven’s wings are whipped.
Again and again and again.
Agony starts clawing at my chest. Panicked cries rip from my lungs as I fight desperately against the metal that is keeping me trapped to the chair. I squeeze my eyes shut and throw my head from side to side, but the memories continue mercilessly flashing across my vision.
My chest tightens with a grief and regret so brutal that my lungs cease working when I once again watch those two fae die. Utter desolation hits me like a blow to the gut when Draven looks at me with hatred in his eyes. And deep agony strangles my heart as I watch his wings be whipped to shreds.
The emotions are so raw that I can’t stop a cry of panic from escaping my throat.
And they get worse and worse every time I watch those memories.
The chair trembles underneath me, but it has been bolted to the floor, so it remains firmly in place as I thrash helplessly whilethose soul-shattering emotions claw through my chest like vicious beasts.
My mind is screaming at me. How can I possibly feel this way? This grief and regret and agony is too deep, too raw, not to be real. But where is it coming from?
Answers float just out of reach. I desperately try to catch them before they float away, but they disappear like smoke.
Draven looks at me with hatred.
The two fae die in pools of blood.
Draven’s wings are whipped.
In the real world, I scream and fight futilely as the emotions inside me reach brutal levels. It feels as if demons are tearing my chest apart with their claws.
But no matter what I do, the memories won’t stop coming.
I gasp in strangled breaths as tidal waves of grief and regret crash over me while burning talons try to claw my heart out.
Draven turns around and looks at me with hatred again.
A cry rips from my lips.
The ice shards slit the throats of those two fae.
Tears stream down my face.
The two fae hit the ground with a thud. Terror and shock still line their faces as they stare at me while blood spreads across the floor, turning silver hair red.
If I could move my arms, I would try to grip my chest. I feel like my heart is going to give out.
The light dies in the eyes of those two fae. Eyes that used to look at me with only resentment.
Why did they look at me with only resentment?
Something about broken glasses.
Something—
Draven’s wings are whipped to shreds.
I scream again. No one is allowed to hurt him like that! No one.
Why can no one hurt him? Who is he to me?
Draven looks at me with hatred.
