(Mini Author's Note:
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these lovely characters, no matter how much I wish it to be true. These characters were created by and are owned by Ms. Tahereh Mafi, the lovely author of the Shatter Me series. I am not claiming to own these characters. All rights go to her.
Song of the Chapter: 'My Blood' by Ellie Goulding.)
She's alive, Warner reminded himself over and over and over again.
She's alive she's alive she's alive she's alive and breathing and twitching and sleeping and she's alive.
The memory of why it is a miracle that she's alive resurfaces, and he doesn't even try to repress it, even if it kills him and it kills him and oh it's killing him. The whole thing replays in his mind, again and again and again.
The man that calls himself his father shoots her, he shoots Juliette. He watches helplessly as her body is thrown backward by the impact of the bullet going into her chest and she falls and falls and falls and hits the wall and then the floor. Her eyes are closed and the color is rapidly draining from her body and her bright red blood is quickly forming large pools around her limp body and there's absolutely nothing at all that he can do. He's utterly and completely useless and Anderson is mocking him and his brain is mocking him for thinking that he could ever have Juliette and the whole damn world is mocking him. He could have run to put his body in front of hers; could have used his body as a shield. But his father still would have killed her and he would be injured and he would be rendered absolutely unable to do anything to save her and she would have died and she would have died and she would have died. So he didn't. He forced himself to stand still and watch, watch as his father shot Juliette in the chest. He watched as Anderson casually brought out a gun and shot her, as nonchalant as if he were asking how she was doing this morning. He watched as she fell back, the impact of the bullet throwing her backwards as if she weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper. He watched as the color drained out of her face just as quickly as the life was bleeding out of her. He watched as his father put the gun back into his jacket and smiled as he walked out. It was only once the footsteps had become inaudible that he allowed himself to move. And he ran. He ran to the room where the twins were in a desperate effort to get them to help her. He knew that his voice was breaking and that he looked and sounded desperate when he begged them to come and help her but he didn't care he didn't care he didn't care. The rest of everything was a blur, a horrifically nerve-raking blur.
He remembers the fear, the fear of Juliette dying in front of him, dying because he couldn't do anything to prevent it. The terror seizes him, and he has a sudden urge – a sudden need – to check on her to make sure that she's alright, to make sure that she's still in his bed and still breathing and still alive. He is so close to running into his bedroom, to sprinting as fast as he can to see her, but he has an appearance to keep up. He clenches his fists and purposefully walks to his room, willing himself not to visibly shake too much. Once he enters the room and closes the door behind him, he instantly bolts to where the bed is. He exhales a long breath of relief when he sees her still sleeping soundly. His breaths are sharp and sudden while he removes his coat, guns, and belt as if they weighed him down significantly. He forces himself to be calm as he walks to the sink. Cold water splashes on his face, refreshing him. Suddenly, a thought more freezing that the chilly water on his face occurs to him – what if Juliette never woke up? The coldness of that thought chilled him to the bone. He has to do something, something, anything. He cannot simply stand here helpless. Careful not to disturb her, he sits on the edge of the bed.
"Juliette." He whispers.
"Juliette, love," He tries again.
Nothing. She does not even stir.
His fear increases. "Wake up," he whispers urgently. He moves toward her, getting ready to gently shake her awake if necessary. "Wake up."
Her eyes fly open. He welcomes their familiar blue-green color and it comforts him. Ungracefully, he pulls his hand away from her. Breathe, he reminded himself.
She's awake and she's alright. She is awake. She is alright.
A huge wave of relief crashes over him and it is then that he realizes exactly how worried he has been.
"Good morning," she says.
He doesn't bother telling her that it's already after noon. Instead, by way of greeting, he smiles at her, but even he can tell that it doesn't look genuine. Too much worry and stress do that to a person.
She shifts, and he moves aside to accommodate her. She then closes her eyes, and he just looked at her.
When she reopens them, he allows himself to lightly tap into his Energy and feel her presence. She seems so calm, it's genuinely surprising. Her presence feels like a small candle, little but there; flickering, but then steadying itself. She radiates serenity, and he is so glad that she knows nothing yet because it will crush her.
When she looks at him, he's afraid that the candle might burn out, but it doesn't. It stays steady – glows a bit brighter, even. "You saved my life," she states.
She is grateful. The emotion is so different to what he's accustomed to. Of course he saved her life. Of course he did.
The candle suddenly flickers drastically, dimming and becoming brighter and going back and forth all at once. It's out of control…she's panicking. Panic, he realizes. Her eyes dart back and forth, scanning the room and taking in every detail. In effort to move away from him, she hits her back against the headboard and instinctively makes herself smaller. He can almost see the memories of everything that transpired in this place flashing before her eyes.
Immediately, his reaction is to calm her. "It's okay – it's all right – "
"What am I doing here?" She's panicking and not listening to him. He doesn't need a gift to tell that she's afraid – that she's terrified. Her beautiful eyes are wide and the fear is apparent in them. It pains him to see her this way, and to know that she is responding this way because he scared her. It's his fault that she's reacting this way. And he curses himself again and again and again for doing this to her. "Why did you bring me here again –?"
He tries to comfort her, to get her to understand. "Juliette, please, I'm not going to hurt you –"It never was his intention to hurt her, not at all.
But she doesn't see that. "Then why did you bring me here?" Her voice is starting to crack and he knows that her panicking isn't healthy and that she should be recovering and she needs to understand. "Why bring me back to this hellhole –?"
"I had to hide you." He lets out a deep breath, the truth flowing out of him with the air. He looks away from her, afraid of what he might see in her eyes.
"What? Why?"
"No one knows you're alive. I had to get back to base. I needed to pretend that everything was back to normal and I was running out of time." He hopes that he can hear the earnest and genuine truth in his voice. When her panic subsides, he looks at her. She looks down at her clothes and blushes, embarrassed.
"Did you… Did – I mean – my clothes –"She is so embarrassed and it's adorable and he just smiles. He smiles at her and stares at her and then she blushes more. He smiles at his hands. Then, he shakes his head. "No. The girls took care of that. I just carried you to bed."
"The girls," she whispers.
He feels her confusion heighten. The girls. Oh God, she remembered too soon. He shouldn't have reminded her. He shouldn't have he shouldn't have he shouldn't have but he did. And it's too late to go back now.
He feels the candle flicker again and it's so drastic and suddenly there is wind and fire and water and everything is colliding and it's all utter chaos. It pains him to feel her like this. He wishes that there was something that he could do to prevent her from this pain.
Suddenly she's trying to get up and has no idea where on earth she's going and is falling and he caught her and held her up by the shoulders. She's almost hyperventilating, inhaling sharply in effort to get air. She frantically looks at him, her blue-green eyes full of panic. "Warner. What happened? What's happening with the battle –?"
He grips her shoulders tighter, to keep her from falling over. "Please, you need to start slowly; you should eat something –"
The desperation in her voice is becoming more and more apparent. "Tell me –"
He tries again to postpone this. "Don't you want to eat first? Or shower?"
Stubborn Juliette. Stubborn, stubborn Juliette. "No. I have to know now."
He really wasn't looking forward to telling her this. He wished that this didn't have to be right now, that she would allow herself time to rest and recover and then learn the news. But his stubborn Juliette wanted to know then, and who was he to deny her?
He looks down at his jade ring that his mother gave him, twirling it on his finger, trying to find a way to put this gently.
"It's over."
"What?"
There's no going back now. "It's over."
She exhales one word. "No."
He nods, saying, 'it's true.'
"No."
The wind and fire and water and chaos stop so suddenly that Warner panics. "Juliette."
The three elements are replaced by ice. Cold, hard ice.
"No. No. No. Don't be stupid. Don't be ridiculous. Don't lie to me goddamn you," and her voice is high and panicky and he wished that he could save her from this pain and protect her but he can't he can't he can't and now he can only watch as she falls to pieces before him, "No, no, no, no –"
She manages to stand up and not fall and his eyes widen. "Juliette."
She doesn't seem to hear him.
"Juliette," he tries again.
It's too sudden. She slips on the crumpled sheets and she falls to the ground and she's on the floor stomach-first. He bends down to touch her or comfort her or hold her or help her up or to do something but she screams at him to stop and the ice in her emotions is enough to freeze him as well.
"Why? Why is the battle over?" she asks.
He wished with all his heart that he could make up a lie, a beautiful lie that would allow him to shape the ice into something beautiful. But no, no, he cannot hurt her like that. It will be so much worse when she actually finds out. So he decides to tell her the truth.
He looks her into her blue-green eyes, begging her to brace herself. And when he says it, it's oh so soft. "Because they're dead, love. They're all dead."
And she shatters.
(Author's Note:
Yes, this is Chapter 1 of Ignite Me in the eyes of Aaron Warner Anderson.
Yes, I am planning on rewriting the whole book from his POV.
I hope that you, the law, and Ms. Mafi will forgive me for doing this.
I'm so obsessed with him. I can't get him out of my head.
So, here I am, writing fanfiction.
I know that this won't do justice to Ignite Me in his eyes. This book and this character are so amazing and lovely and it is a crime for me to do this. So please forgive me.
P.S. –I have this thing called 'Song of the Chapter,' you may have noticed it in the mini author's note. There I'll put a song that inspired me to write this, or a song that I listened to while writing this.
P.P.S. – I hope this gave you as many feels as it gave me to write. I cried multiple times.
P.P.P.S. – please leave reviews! I would really like to hear what you think of it, even if you think it's horrid.
P.P.P.P.S. – I've never written in third person before, usually I write in first person. How was it?)