Desolate(13)
“Blake? I asked you a question.”
He turns to face me; the bags under his eyes making them appear darker than usual. “Sorry, baby. What did you say?”
Taking the steps to close the distance between us, I grip his face in my palms and stroke at the dark circles there. “I asked if you ate today.”
He nods, taking my hands in his. “Sorry, yes I ate earlier. You should eat without me.”
“Blake, please talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Mel. Just a case at work. It’s a little close to home is all.”
I drop my head and nod in understanding. His past, damn, our past, still haunts him. I know most of what happened to him and Ryan but there’s something I know he keeps to himself, and he has the right to. I just have to be strong for us both and pray he comes back to me.
I leave him in our room and make my way to the kitchen to make some dinner for Cereus and me. A note on the fridge changes my plans:
I open the fridge and grab the bottle of wine and a glass, and make my way to my study to drain it.
Blood everywhere, like a river running from the lifeless body of my mother. My Dad’s ragged breathing behind me scares me so much my own heart pounds in my chest and causes my breathing to match his. I know he shouldn’t be breathing, he’s dead, but I hear him. He’s coming closer and I can’t tear my eyes from my mother. A hand lands on my shoulder and the breathing is so close to my ear that my hair flies from the breaths lifting it. I’m shaking so hard I can feel my bones crunching against each other.
“Run, Mel. Run. He’s coming for you.”
Closing my eyes I will it all away and count to ten, then slowly lift my eyelids. Blake’s face is in front of me, his hands shooting out to grasp my throat, squeezing the life from me. I slap at him, trying to scream but I have no breath, he’s stealing it. No . . . no.
“Mel, wake up. Melody!”
My eyes snap open to find Blake shaking me.
“No!” I cry out, slapping his hands away. He steps back and the room floods into focus. I’m in the study. I must have fallen asleep at my desk. Blake’s eyes regard me with a guarded intensity. The light highlights him like an angel, albeit a dark one, and that’s okay with me. I accept the darkness in him, I just don’t want him to let it consume him and filter us out.
“I was dreaming,” I tell him, but he doesn’t move. He’s unyielding, like a statue. “I was just dreaming.”
“You were having a nightmare,” he chokes out. The pain on his face contorts his features, his brows crashing together, his jaw so tense I can almost see the outline of his teeth.
“I don’t know why,” I say, feeling under scrutiny for something out of my control.
It took years for my nightmares to stop, and during a joint therapy session I told Blake that some of my nightmares were of him strangling me, like that night I found my parents. It destroyed him a little every time I woke from one from then on, and he would need space, but it hasn’t happened for years and I don’t fear him at all. He cured me of that fear many, many years ago but it hasn’t stopped the dreams. Time stopped them, life proved to not be as frightening and cruel as I once thought. As time passed, so did the nightmares.
“Let’s go to bed. It happened because I was sitting uncomfortably is all.”
I stand, offering my hand and exhale when he takes it, squeezing and pulling me into his embrace.
“I love you,” he breathes and I sigh, content in his arms.
The next morning I wake alone in our bed.
THE SMELL OF FRESH CUT grass always reminds me of my school years, and sitting on a bench across from Cereus’ school watching the sheep coming and going in herds, ignoring a few giggling girls looking at me and whispering, takes me back. It’s a bizarre feeling being surrounded by people yet feeling completely alone in the world. I struggled to make friends in school because I couldn’t relate to anyone and even from a young age I knew I was different, superior to those around me. My intellect alone set me apart.
Time has been kind to me and my looks are still impeccable, my dark eyes able to captivate my prey like a snake charmer before striking them down. My lips are full and experienced, my body toned and cut. I’m leaner than I like to be but I’ll soon be back to my full potential. My hair has grown longer than I would usually keep it but I like how it falls heavy over my forehead. When I tilt my head it acts as a shield, allowing me to assess my surroundings without being obvious that I’m watching, scanning and taking in information. It’s something I do wherever I go. It’s surprising how much someone’s body language can give away their intentions or secrets.