A/N: Heyy, now guys I'm really sorry I haven't updated in ages, I had comic con, my birthday and then my american cousin came round, then I lost my memory stick that had all my fanfics on, so I've lost a lot, then I had to actually write the chapter... so yeah sorry *hides behind sofa*
Anyway I'm back now and I should, should, update next week but that depends on school work and stuff, so yeah no promises :D
Chapter 40: The next time you open your eyes, the world might have already changed
Cris came out of the flashbacks gasping for breathe and a cold sweat trickling down her temple like a melting ice cap. She couldn't seem to control her breathing as it raced in and out of her, which, of course, wasn't helped by her erratically fast beating heart. She could feel the blood pump through her veins at an incredible pace as she tried to sit up. Forcing her body to sit up with no effect was strenuous and painful and Cris found that she still could only move anything above the base of her neck.
Looking around again, she caught the cold stare of the man in the passenger seat. "Who are you?" Cris growled her voice low and deadly. Instead of being scared, which most people were when she used this voice, the man laughed, a deep, throaty, even quite sadistic laugh. Cris almost flinched at this but decided to try and not show the immense fear that she could feel coursing through her veins.
"Oh, but dear sister, I was hoping you would remember me," He said his deep voice carrying off as if he had gone back to some distant time. "But then you were only a baby when it happened,"
"What are you talking about?" Cris almost screamed but as she was saying the last part the car lurched to the side quickly making her head crash painfully against the door. Cris quickly thought off the nausea that ran through her then, with her eyesight only blurring slightly it was quite easy to get rid of it before the man noticed.
Cris didn't like the feeling of this man, it wasn't just the fact that she was pretty sure this man had just kidnapped and paralysed her, but then man seemed to be hiding a lot; not only with what he knew but what he was feeling, Cris could see the pain in her eyes when he looked at her and if Cris wasn't mistaken love as well. Which more than creeped her out.
It also didn't help that the man kept calling her his sister, which was just weird; especially as it didn't sound as if he wasn't sassing her.
"All in due time, sister," He said as he reached over, turning around in his seat coming closer to her. Without the use of her body she wasn't able to gain any more personal space that she was rapidly losing as the man came closer. She was staring into his eyes, hoping for any flicker of emotion from his impassive face, now being able to notice that the dark forest green in his eyes rang rings round his pupil and seeped slowly into the deep sea blue that edged his iris.
"Who are you?" Cris asked, trying to understand at least one thing out of this madness.
"My name, dear sister, is Rhys Jones," Cris couldn't say that name rang a bell but he spoke as if she should recognise his name as if it was her own, but, in fact, his last name was. It has to be a coincidence that our last name's are the same, it HAS to be! Cris tried to convince herself that it was but she couldn't even believe herself.
As if reading her thoughts the next words that left Rhys' mouth were "No, it is not a mere coincidence, our surname's are the same because you are my sister, whether you like it or not," His voice held a menacing quality as if it was more of a threat than a statement and it made a cold shudder run through Cris with an force of a full blown earthquake.
"Don't even try to deny it, sister mine," Okay that threat wasn't even well hidden but it did have the same effect.
The car then swerved to a stop making Cris' head bang against the door again which made Cris groan slightly in pain. "Ah, here we are," Rhys said happily, before darting out of the car like a boy going to his favourite toy shop. Cris wondered where 'here' was because all Cris could see was the massive trees that loomed over the car and the light grey sky, that reminded her of Tessa. Crap, why did I have to think of Tessa.
Cris felt like a little girl as guilt coursed through her as she couldn't help but feel she over-reacted and she let before they could explain, but then Cris really didn't want to stay if they thought of her as a slut, who would sleep with Jace, Will and Simon. I mean, eww, they're my brothers. Cris could also understand that other people would think she had slept with Jamie and Jem because people just wanted to gossip and find more flaws in her but Cris couldn't believe her so-called friends thought of her like that.
Well it did look like I had slept with Jamie on the night I fell... but still! Cris could help but think over her new found memories and how they just made things ten times more complicated. Especially between her, Jem and Jamie.
But anyway the driver got out his door and he spoke to Rhys, in a deep voice that Cris couldn't help but compare to a pervert or something, which didn't help her nerves. Her nerves were currents raging especially since her fight or flight motions were completely compromised by the fact she couldn't fight or run, or in fact do anything with everything except her head. The driver was saying something about carrying her when Rhys cut in, "It's fine, I'll carry her myself,"
One of the back doors were opened as the driver said, "Are you sure? She's quite heavy," This angered Cris slightly and even though she was terrified of her situation, she couldn't help but shout, "Hey, are you saying I'm fat?"
The driver turned to her and gave off what sounded like an inhumane growl before he spat out, "You better watch yourself, bitch. I don't care who you are, I won't hesitate to rip all your limbs off your body, if you speak back to me again,"
Cris gulped, saying nothing because, though she wouldn't admit it, she was now more than terrified and the fact that she could normally take down the guy didn't really cross her mind because what was the point of thinking of things she couldn't do, if he did attack her?
But that thought was irrelevant as Rhys sent him a look that contained the fires of hell itself which made the driver curl in on himself in apparent shame and worry. "Sorry, master," The driver said apologetically although he still sent a icy glare to Cris. 'Master'! What the hell is going on here?! Arms encircling her, brought her out of her thoughts, and she felt herself being lifted up into the air.
Cris bit her tongue from saying some sort of remark as her limp body was lifted into a pair of strong, taught arms. He shifted her so that she had to rest her head against the crook of his neck. Now to say Cris was uncomfortable with her current position was a huge understatement. She managed to move her head so that she could see past his neck and the sight before her made the breathe rush out of her.
The view before her was astounding: there was this prodigious Victorian estate which looked as if it had come straight out of an black and white photo. It had pure white walls with white pillars spread out in front to create a shelter before the house; vines looked to be climbing up one of the walls with snow white roses dotted throughout the wall. There was also coal black two turrets that stood on top of the opposite ends of the house, with the roof in the middle being black as well.
It looked gothic and slightly daunting but at the same time it almost looked angelic, which was more than slightly confusing for Cris. Before she knew it Rhys had carried to the massive intricate oak door, Cris gaped at this, despite her best efforts not to, causing Rhys to look down at her and give of a warm laugh, which seemed contrary to the personality he had been portraying before.
Cris looked up at him as he did this and his face held a gentle smirk and happiness glimmered in the depths of his eyes. Happiness, not coldness, insanity or pride like a normal kidnapper would have but happiness. And it wasn't even a sadistic happy. There's something wrong with this dude. Cris thought wondering why he seemed genuinely happy.
Rhys kicked open the doors and proudly strode into the entrance way as if he had just shot a prized stag, which he kind of did (although Cris hadn't been shot and neither was she a stag). Once he was inside the door swung shut, by who Cris didn't know, and a woman with short light chestnut and dull grey eyes came up to them. Cris guessed she was a made from her too small uniform that looked like it was going to burst, especially around her chest.
"Is Crisiant's room ready, yet?" Rhys asked, almost impatiently, and the maid seemed to shiver under his intense gaze; what kind of shiver it was, Cris really didn't want to know.
"N-no, not ye-yet, young ma-master," The woman managed to stutter out incoherently. She looked scared as if afraid of retribution. It was probably a given since Rhys did look like he could easily kill or fatally wound someone. This was mainly because of his build: he had broad shoulder leading onto his toned chest and six pack. This all in all made him look like dorito. (Well dorito is the best body type, like Captain America's) He also had well built long legs but they were quite lean so that it looked like he could sprint for miles.
All of this really didn't help any escape plans Cris came up with because even in her mind Rhys could beat all the plans her brain came up with, which wasn't helpful in the slightest.
"Hurry up then!" Rhys' voice boomed and it could probably be heard throughout the house, the loud, quite harsh, sent the maid skittering away as fast as her quite short legs could take her. After watching the petrified maid make her way up he grand pearly staircase, Rhys took a sudden left towards a long corridor. The corridor had thick red plush carpets with off white walls that were dotted with expensive looking artwork. These pieces ranged from water colours to charcoal sketches to sculptures to photos.
As Cris admired the extensive art that lined the walls, Rhys looked down at her and gave her a warm smile that lit up his eyes. Cris having not seen the look on his face continued to stare at the passing art while Rhys shook his head slightly but couldn't hide the small smile that still graced his lips.
When they got to the end of the long corridor, they were greeted with a large mahogany door. Rhys, somehow, managed to manoeuvre Cris so that he could gently knock on surface and when a deep voice boomed though the thick wooden door telling them to come in, he turned the handle so that the door swung open revealing a room to be awed.
Cris gasped looking around the room as you couldn't see any of the walls and instead book cases crammed with books outlined the room. The room only had one window that went from the floor to the ceiling and led out to a balcony over viewing a breath taking landscaped garden. The room, as Cris looked at it, turned out to be a study, with a oak desk, that almost resembled Charlotte's, which had an unique pattern on the front. The desk also had papers and books scattering it, with a man behind it shifting through various items. He was an older gentleman with dark grey flicks in his otherwise dark brown hair, he had dark blue eyes, so dark that they seemed almost black from a distance.
When the man looked up he looked straight a Cris, his eyes boring holes in her head, he gave a chilling smile which unlike Rhys' filled Cris' blood with shards of ice. The man spoke and his voice was like pinpricks on Cris' skin, "Welcome home, daughter,"
