I waver for a moment indecisively before just deciding to take the plunge. “Make me feel better?”
She raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I personally would recommend waiting until we get home after that last debacle.”
Groaning, I swipe a hand down my face in agitated frustration. “I’m not asking for a hand job in a back alley, I’m just-” I drop my hands to my side and give her my most earnest look- “I’m asking for help. Please? I don’t...I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
She stops in her tracks, looking me over intently before she speaks. “You want me to try and manipulate your emotions?” She shakes her head slowly, looking uncomfortable. “I promised I’d never intentionally use my abilities on you guys.”
I stop walking, looking at her and feeling conflicted. I’m just soangryand I absolutely hate it. I may not want a fabricated cure, may want to be better, but if nearly a decade has passed and I still can’t stop my reactions, then will it ever actually end? I can’t spend my entire life lashing out and hostile, nor do I want to. I’ve spent enough time in the darkness that I want to enjoy every moment of the light life has to offer. I don’t want to think of the way they hit me, the way they touched me. I don’t want to spend my nights tossing and turning, reliving the way the people that were supposed to love and protect me hurt me so much that it resonates years later. I want to move on, and it’s clear I can’t get there by myself.
“I’m asking you to. Please.”
She looks to Atlas, but I’m not sure if she’s seeking a witness that she isn’t trying to manipulate me, or trying to get him to talk me out of it. Whatever she’s seeking though, she doesn’t find it in his face, turning away with a grimace.
His eyes are hard, but his voice is kind. “D, she mesmerizes people; she can’t mind wipe.”
Even though I know he’s right, I’m desperate to try anything. I don’t think even she knows what all she’s capable of, spending so much of her life holding herself back. She’s blind to the way she inspires people, to the way they react when she pours her soul into any piece she plays. I want that feeling again, even if it doesn’t last. For just a few minutes, I want to cease to exist, to live as an extension of her instead.
I want that same feeling I had at the castle, the one her parents used her for, and I despise myself for it.
“I know that, but she can take this rage away, replace it with something else if she wants. You know I’m right.”
Meeting her swirling silver gaze, I’m on the verge of begging. I just want to throw up, to curl in a ball and wait for sleep to take it all away. But with the state I’m in, only nightmares would be waiting for me.
“Okay.” She swallows, unsettled and nervous, but nods her head once as she steels herself with determination. “I’ll try.”
Atlas interjects, able to think more rationally than I can right now. “We’re in the middle of the damn street, Dorian. You can’t have her revealing herself to everyone with a camera phone.”
Punching the brick building beside me, I tear up my knuckles and shake out my hand, the pain helping take a little of the edge off. “Can we just go home already? It was a stupid idea, I get it.”
I don’t storm off, waiting for them to start walking so that no one is behind me. The sidewalk’s relatively empty at this time of day, most people at work or in school, so I’m able to have room to breathe. Sirens race by us, flying down the street one after the other. The piercing noise just adds to my headache, and I’m beyond ready for the day to be over already, after it had started with such promise.
It just goes to show how quickly things can be torn away from us, how fragile hope and happiness are.
The tense silence is oppressive, the two of them not even attempting to make small talk as we walk home. I take slow, steady breaths, trying to settle down and epically failing. It’s embarrassing as fuck that at my age I can lash out like this, need people to tiptoe around me until I can get ahold of myself. But the more I focus on my self-loathing, the harder it is to remind myself that I’m capable of better.
On my next exhale, I feel like some of the toxicity escapes, mingled with my breath. The tiniest bit of the poison coursing through my system expunged, enough to save me before it consumes me completely. Another breath, another step, and I can see through the red haze to the world around me again. I realize then that Cambria’s humming softly, ignoring Atlas’ chastising remarks.
Soon, he gives up trying to get her to stop, grumbling instead as he pulls us off of the main street into the alley between a couple of stores. It goes clear through to the other side, only a dumpster and a few steel doors to keep us company in the muted daylight. Her humming is replaced by soft singing, low enough to not draw too much attention from a passerby.
The tension in my muscles begins to dissipate, and I nearly weep with relief. Atlas positions himself near the opening to help block us and watch for anyone passing by, but soon he’s as enraptured as I am. She can’t control the range of her abilities, anyone within earshot falling victim to her manipulation.
My skin tingles as the force of her compulsion washes over me, begging me to hang on her every word. And I do, like she hung the very moon itself, but that has nothing to do with her abilities and everything to do with who she is.
Her voice rises and falls, bringing me with her on each note, every swell, and wrapping around me until I can’t focus on anything other than her voice. She takes my anger and self-loathing, transforming it into a desperate yearning so strong that nothing else matters, nothing exists beyond that need. Soon, I’m just an empty shell of my former self, aching for something I can’t name. I justhurt,desperately seeking anything to latch onto that can fill me with purpose, an anchor in the midst of the dark oblivion she’s trapped me in.
A soft hand brushes delicately across my cheek and a moment later, her lips press softly against mine. She becomes the very tether I was seeking, needing her to ground me like never before. I gently thread my fingers through her hair, holding her against me like I’ll never have to let her go.
Just for a minute, she’s completely mine. And when I reluctantly pull back to face her, she’s still my everything, despite me not being everything for her.
She scans my face, a sad smile in her eyes that I hate myself for, knowing I put it there. “Better?”
Leaning down to rest my forehead against hers, I risk letting my eyes close, hopeful that there won’t be any mental shadows waiting for me in the momentary darkness. “A different kind of pain, but easier to manage,” I whisper, voice little more than a rough croak. “Thank you, love.”
She pulls away, stealing my hand and tangling our fingers together as she moves to snap Atlas out of his daze. “I’ve spent a fair amount of time hating myself too,” she admits softly, Atlas stirring and annoyed with being out of it and vulnerable. “So I get it.” A genuine smile lights up her face though when she leans back against his chest, dragging me in front of her. “But I’ll admit, I’m not used to being needed; it feels kind of nice. So as long as Luce and Atlas know you’re asking me to do it and I’m not going back on my word, I’m glad to help you, Dorian.”
She tugs me closer for a quick kiss before admitting, “I feel like shit for dragging you guys into my mess and mooching off of you. And the only time I’ve done that before was so I could rob people or for my mother, so it’s nice to associate it with something good for once.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”
