Chapter Two: Whisper
(Shared POV)
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(Lauren's POV)
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"Doc,"
I hear his low rumbling, I keep thinking one day he will speak in a normal tone, at least once-I won't hold my breath for it though. A smirk playing over my lips, I take the shot of Trick's best tequila that I have been babysitting since Bo had decided to take her argument into the privacy of the office before looking over to him.
"Did she display the bat signal?" I tilt my head glancing passed him at Tamsin who is hanging back, a head nod to acknowledge to me-apparently at some point in time she thinks we've become friendly.
"It's not like that." His brow furrowing as he leans against the bar.
"You're here aren't you-sidekick in toe."
"She is concerned."
"About something personal."
"I thought we were passed this." His eyes catch mine, he did have a point—we were over the pettiness and mistrust but IF and this is a HUGE IF, Bo was right about there being something wrong, something to do with my past I didn't want an audience for it.
"We are Dyson." I flash him a soft smile and he returns it, he really does mean well. Reaching over I fill up my shot glass again before setting the bottle down next to him, an unspoken offer. Smirk spreading over my lips before I swallow down my fourth shot of the afternoon, I slide from my stool standing mere inches from him—so close I can faintly feel his breath on my skin. "I know about your offer last night." My eyebrow raising as I speak, words immediately earning that wolf grin of his.
"And I know she took you up on yours."
"She did," my hand resting on his chest as I lean in just a bit. "Multiple times." I have to maneuver myself out from between him and the stool quickly otherwise I know I will laugh with the look he is beginning to get.
I love earning that look from him.
I glance up at Tamsin who is watching me like a hawk. I really cannot get a clear reading on that one, one moment she wants Bo then Dyson and then Bo before Dyson but then back again and—it's all very confusing with her. She feels she has some claim on both, I suppose since she has shared several kisses with Bo, and a few tussles in the bed with Dyson.
She tends to watch me lately around him as if I would do something—to get back at her. I suppose if I was to go for men then I could do worse than Dyson, I mean he does have a bit too much of a hero complex for me but then again I suppose that is better than having an abusive, alcoholic, murderous complex—I could live with it. He wasn't horrible to look at though when I do find men attractive they tend to be—bigger in nature but again there was something about Dyson I found myself drawn too.
We were a group of inappropriate relationships after all.
It wasn't sexual though, he was sort of like a brother—if I had on occasion flirted with for the fun of it—well not that I ever flirted with my real brother—different situations.
I shake my head and laugh at myself as I walk into Trick's office where the three of them had been for a while. Bo had of course needed to act completely alpha and tell me to wait while she handled everything—sometimes it was attractive other times it was a tad unusual how determined she was to be so alpha.
I believe part of it is just her personality, part of her wanting to protect the ones she cares about and wanting to show off a bit while doing it. The other part though I believe is her not completely knowing who 'she' is yet so she mimics what she sees, what she thinks is right in the situation.
I have to take another three steps in as the pair come in behind me, luckily its Dyson who bumps into me rather than Tamsin.
Trick looks pissed as he stands over by the fire place—seriously pissed, doesn't happen often. Bo doesn't seem all that happy but she shoots me this gentle smile. Then there is the Oracle, another pissed off member of this little impromptu party. Overall she looked sweet though, an older lady—in fact kind of reminded me of the oracle from the Matrix-I think I've had too much to drink.
I smile politely despite the intense stare of this woman.
"No." she speaks through a thick African accent, I'd have to say the Northern region if I was trying to place it. "No—I will NOT read her."
"I'm sorry?" I let out, that being the only thing I can think of to say as she glares at me in—horror?
"I will not read her." She turns to Trick. "I will not."
"Whoa, whoa—we had a deal." Bo barks not bothering to look over to Trick who looks—relieved?
"Not anymore."
"I never thought I would see the day when an Oracle broke her word." Dyson lets out stepping from behind me-hero complex.
"Do not judge me shifter for I see into your heart-you want no part of this."
"Hold your tongue." He growls. "I know nothing of this."
"Not by conscious choice," she looks around the room before her eyes fall on Tamsin. "Like a house of cards this house will fall-I will be no part of this."
"It's okay, it's not that important." I say softly looking between the Oracle and Tamsin who appears not to have a clue why she is suddenly the focus of attention.
"It is," Bo says flatly. "You gave your blood oath, you got your payment—you will follow through." She threatens and I want to step in, tell her it isn't a wise decision to threaten an Oracle, especially one of her ancestry but surprisingly she backs down.
"Understand what happens next is not on me," she says slowly looking from Bo to Trick to Dyson to Tamsin but somehow manages to skip me entirely—it would have been a tad over dramatic had it not been actually been daunting. "Have you chosen an anchor?"
"That would be me." Bo volunteers herself, well I suppose it's only fair—she is forcing me to do this, she may as well come along for the ride to keep me company.
Never once do we get a real date-only-this.
"You may be able to force me into doing this child, but there are some rules that cannot be broken nor bent."
"Why do I feel like there is something you aren't telling us?"
"Bo," I let out shaking my head, I'm not quite sure what game is being played here but whatever it is I suddenly feel the desire to find out and I won't be able to do that if Bo is playing the role of rabid pitbull. "It's okay." I smile softly looking between Trick and Dyson—double agent situation of some kind?
No, not them-Tamsin maybe.
If she was she picked the wrong person to play against, my double agent's persona has a double agent persona—on a good day Mr. Bond wouldn't be able to tell which side I'm playing—unfortunately my last play got a little messy—often does when you include love into the equation.
I smile softly at Bo who is doing her broody pout deal as she leans against the fire place watching Dyson pull the chair out of the way at the Oracle's instruction. Her eyes burning holes through me and I want to ask—I want to know the answer to this apparent mystery being dangled in front of me but I know the Fae all too well, nothing is as simple as that.
"Is he your pick or shall you go down this road alone?"
Why is he different? Why did she skip over Tamsin completely? Is it because he is Light? What would it matter which side they fall to be an anchor to me? Even if by some off the wall, astronomical chance I was some part Fae, Bo was unaligned when she took Dyson into the Dawning.
So many questions.
"Um," I look over to him who gives me that little nod of his, I don't know why I even thought I would need to ask—any chance to play the knight in shining armor and he is there with bells on and chew toy in hand. "Are you sure?"
"Do you really think you need to ask Lauren?"
"Do you two need a moment?" Bo snorts, eyebrow raised as she makes her way to me.
"Shoes, socks and shirts off." The Oracle orders as she begins mixing something in a bowl from an assortment spread out along Trick's desk.
"Are you sure about this?" she whispers holding out her hands for me to keep balance as I kick off my shoes and socks.
"Now you want to listen to me?" My own eyebrow shooting up, God could she be thick headed sometimes. "It's okay Bo, besides what else would I be doing this afternoon?"
"I could think of a few things." Her lips curving into a smirk as she watches me begin to pull my shirt off.
"You have no shame."
"When it comes to you—none." She leans in going for a kiss but I turn my head slightly allowing her to get my cheek.
I know she is hurt by this but I wasn't stupid, we still haven't talked, still haven't cleared anything up, in fact we've suddenly added twice as many questions. I wasn't going to allow her to play the concerned girlfriend now only to have her fall back into the role of indecisive ex by tonight when she felt like taking Dyson for a spin rather than me.
The hurt is undoubtedly written over her features but she forces out a gentle smile and takes my shirt from me. If she only knew how much I wish I could trust her-how much I want to believe that if I accept a kiss now and believe last night was the beginning of something rather than just us slipping into old habits.
My eyes lock on my gift to her, the one she hasn't removed since she put it on-no time to discuss this now.
I look over to Dyson who is on the last moments of having symbols drawn over his chest as she speaks words in an unidentifiable language—that's an unusual word for me.
I come to stand in front of him, nervous smile on my face as she turns to begin the process on me. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts I barely feel her—hear her but what I do happen to catch is Bo's hand on his forearm as she leans into him and whispers 'Take care of her'. The fact that it's an order rather than a request bringing a genuine grin to my lips—short lived though.
"Lay down next to one another, hands shall be grazing one another but not touching—never touching."
We do as she says, he looks as nervous as me—why?
"This is of the upmost importance—do not let one another go. No matter what is seen, no matter what is done you two are each other's life line."
Yep, that makes me feel so much more comfortable.
"I ask one more time child, are you sure?" I think the question is for me.
She knees down in between us, palms covering each of our foreheads, both of us tilting out heads toward her but she is looking directly at me—through me.
Who am I too her? Does she know me? Does she know the answers to these questions without even looking into my muddled mind?
"Some doors are better left closed Rebecca." She whispers as I watch the color drain from her eyes.
My eyelids suddenly so heavy they close without my permission—perhaps for the best. There is this strange tingling sensation resonating in the tip of my fingers and toes almost as if lost circulation is returning.
I'm so cold-it's not a rush or a chill but a coldness seeping through my skin, through my muscles and resonating within my bones. I'm shaking—I think I'm shaking—my mind is so scattered all of a sudden-I can't think-can't focus on anything other than the cold.
My lungs burn-it's as if they've been set on fire-my chest so heavy—a feeling of a million tons resting upon it.
This isn't real—this isn't happening-I am laying on the floor of Trick's office-Dyson is next to me and Bo is watching me-this isn't real-I'm panicking-think Lauren-breathe.
My eyes won't open-I'm gasping for breath—I want to call for help but I can't find my voice-I have no voice-I have no clear thought—all there is, is the cold-it's not cold-it's-freeze.
Why can't I think? Why can't I breathe? Why can't I move? Why can't I open my eyes?
All I can feel-all I can think is the coldness.
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(Go back…..Go back….It's not safe here….before it's too late…turn back….)
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I can't form my own coherent thoughts-can barely hear my own internal voice but this echoing whisper of a stranger I can hear as clear as I feel the coldness.
Is it Dyson?
No—the voice has a haunting familiarity but it's not him-not Trick-not Aiden—who are you?
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(It's not safe…..it's not too late yet…..please….please go back…..)
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I can't breathe-I can't feel my heart beating within my chest-am I still alive?
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(Bo's POV)
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I know I should sit, as they have told me repeatedly this could take a while but I just can't so instead I stand here staring down at them with my arms folded over my chest as I shift my weight back and forth—Lauren's technique and occasionally running my tongue along the back points of my teeth—nervous habit of my own.
Tamsin remains leaning against the door watching just as intently—why though? Why does she seem so put off by this—by the Oracle's words? She has that lost little girl look—the one she had right after Kenzi died, the one she had when she confessed to me of her betrayals.
I glance over at Trick who is sitting in his chair behind me pretending to read a book but I've caught his eyes on them one too many times. Why was he so against this? I get that he was hell bent on me and the Oracle getting our Matrix on but this was important—he owed me.
The sound of glass tinkering brings my attention back to the Oracle who stands by the desk tinkering with some shit but her eyes rarely leave the two most important people left in my life.
Something isn't right.
Was I wrong? Did I jump the gun? Should I have thought this through better? Should I have played detective when I realized there was some serious subtext going on here?
God I miss Kenz, for so MANY reasons but the one at the moment would be the fact she would have been the voice of reason, Hale too. Kenz would have made it funny and like a slap in the face while Hale would make it seem like a slap on the hand but they would have been the voices of reason-something I need more often than not.
I just wanted to know she was okay—I know what I tasted-I know what I felt-it wasn't human-she isn't human-I'm not wrong—could I be?
I tear my eyes from hers as they meet, I keep the gaze just long enough to make sure she knows I don't fear her—I do though.
Lauren looks so beautiful even if she looks like she is doubling as a kid's chalkboard, who am I kidding, she couldn't look bad if she tried.
I wonder what she is going through though—I wish I could have been the one there with her.
She looks so peaceful-so-
"LAUREN!"
I jump at the sudden frightful growl coming from Dyson as he bolts up somehow managing to gasp for breath as he calls out for her.
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(Lauren's POV)
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Lauren open your eyes.
Open your fucking eyes!
Gasping for breath my eyes fly open-I wish they didn't.
I'm staring down through my frosted breath at violent waves crashing into the rocks-I's leaning over the very edge of a cliff yet I can't pull back—I can't move other than tremble from the cold. My bare feet buried beneath the snow that reaches just above my ankle but I can't tear my eyes from the waves.
Where am I-where is Dyson?
I want to call for him-suddenly knowing he is somewhere here with me is like a child's security blanket but now the fact I can't find him terrifying me all more.
Where am I?
These are my memories? I think not—I think I would remember being a damn Eskimo.
For a moment there is stillness-a calm that spreads through me like these waves through the ocean.
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(RUN…..RUN…GET OUT…NOW…DAMMIT RUN…)
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That voice-it's no longer a whisper but a growl-not Dyson's growl-not a wolf growl-something else.
The frost is back, what once took several heartbeats to accomplish is done in one -I feel my heart now though-pounding as violently within my chest as these waves pound the rock—my toes even with the ledge as my body tilts over daring gravity to take over.
I want to pull back-why can't I pull back?
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(RUN….. DAMMIT RUN…RUN…WAKE UP…..WAKE UP NOW!)
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Who are you?
As if I have no control of my body I begin to look over my shoulder at whatever it was that was coming for me.
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(Bo's POV)
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"Lauren," he says quietly to himself for the third time as he sort of rocks, his body covered in sweat within in a matter of seconds, color draining from his cheeks.
"What about Lauren?" I don't have time for this. He is up and scared-she is still lying there as a cool as cucumber. Rushing from behind him to his side, I stare into his glassy eyes. "Dyson, focus. What happened? Where is Lauren?"
"I-I don't know. There was someone-something there with us—she could hear me-couldn't see me."
"What do you mean something else was there? Where?"
"I—I don't know." He pants staring down in his lap.
"You should have let me go!" I snap looking over my shoulder at the Oracle who seems almost—fearful herself.
"I told you I cannot break these rules—"
"You can't even bend them, yeah I got that the first time Chelo." I jump up to my feet, spinning around to face her. "What rules?" I demand but she doesn't look at me, she looks to Trick. "Look at me! What rules? What do you know?"
"Bo,"
"Shut up!" I snap at Trick who is approaching—he had his chance to be honest, to be forthcoming now I needed answers not another handful of bullshit..
"You are Dark-darkness in a pure form is swimming within that heart of yours child, darkness unlike your father's or his father before him—you cannot cross the lines that keep a balance—it would be unnatural."
"Okay-okay so Dyson is Light, why is here instead of taking a nice stroll down memory lane with my—with Lauren?" I try to keep my voice from raising-from breaking. I can't focus on what she is saying about, I don't have time.
"I don't know." She says almost in a whisper-I think I like the lies better.
"You never intended to actually allow them did you?" Tamsin lets out as she finally moves from the door. "It was an illusion,"
"Tamsin." Trick barks grabbing my attention for a mere moment.
"They would have walked through memories she knows, maybe even some her and him share, maybe a memory or two she forgot along the way—birthday gift or some shit but it's a cheap trick, seen it a million times."
"Is that right?" I look from Trick to the Oracle—I know it's true—don't need an answer or their pathetic looks to confirm it—the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach is all of the reassurance I need. "So what-fuck the fact of why—we'll get to that and believe me we will—but where is she now?"
"I don't know, her mind—it's fragmented."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning it's shattered into a billion little pieces and was super glued back together with all the little red pieces left out that the artist didn't want in there." Tamsin continues her usefulness.
"She should NOT have been able to gain access to them." The Oracle snarls, looking passed me and to Lauren who still hasn't moved an inch. "Where she is now—how—I do not know and that is the truth, I swear on the Gods of the Fae-I do not."
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(Lauren's POV)
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Fluttering eyelids switch my landscape like a kaleidoscope and when my vision finally comes back into focus-I don't know what I feel.
A hint of familiarity—a hint of a feeling I barely remember anymore—home?
The cold is gone, the pain is gone—there is nothing but warmth.
I look down to find bare feet firmly placed in grass rather than snow but these feet—they're so tiny. Hands lifting up of their own will to wave at something in the distance but again they are so tiny.
Where am I? Who am I? Am I me?
I look over to where I was waving, my eyes finding little Aiden in his Sunday best of black slacks, a white dress shirts with the sleeves up and top button undone, a black vest hanging open—he's seven—I think. He is doing something odd though—he's near glowing, this smile across his face so wide—I don't think I've ever seen that before.
Appearing behind him a lady bare foot as we are but in a white sun dress—she's beautiful like one of those glamorous models from the forties or fifties. Her smile is stunning and her laugh infectious—I can't hear it yet but I just know. Her hair down, dancing as she runs and the warm summer's breeze blows; it has just the slightest wave and is the color of the sun.
Never have I seen someone so beautiful as her.
"Come here silly goose," her voice like silk as she scoops me up in her arms and twirls us around. "Don't you know you're supposed to run?" she laughs nuzzles her cheek against mine.
"Mum, Becca doesn't know how to run."
"You will have to teach your little sister," she pauses as she puts me down but keeps a hold of my hand. "It may become of some use some day."
"You'll protect me from anything I need to run from mum," the words leave my mouth without a thought.
"My love," she kneels down, running her fingertips along my cheek. "For as long as there is breath in my lungs I will protect you, and when the day comes that my heart no longer beats and I have returned to the earth your brother will take my place."
"Mum don't say such things." He says with a scowl.
"Of course silly me," she stands flashing another smile. "I will live to be four thousand and you two will be well into your grandchildren's grandchildren's—so on."
"Come run with us mum." I say tugging on her arm.
"I wish I could my lovely, but I must check on your father. You know how that man gets when working on something, without me here to remind him he would forget to eat along with—"
"His head." Me and Aiden finish her sentience in a fit of giggles, her arms reaching out and pulling us to her as we begin walking, the two of us latched onto her so tightly it must hurt.
"So I have said this before, I see—well then it's just your father who doesn't listen." She gives us this little pat on the back before pulling her embrace away. "Now run along, perhaps I can track down Jacob and send him out."
I come to a still as I watch her walk away from me—I want to cry for her-run after her but I am frozen.
I slowly begin to remember this is a memory and I must act according or rather live it according. I cannot speak, I cannot move but I seem to be able to look-look at everything.
Like my mother.
Like the enormous house she is nearly at, it is truly enormous near castle like and by the architecture it's from somewhere in old England. Suddenly the realization that not only my mother but my brother have a faint accent—I was born in Montreal, why are we here?
I look over to my brother who is looking up at a plane flying overhead but I just watch him—it's been so long—I've forgotten him almost. Forgotten that he looks nothing like me or apparently our mother. Dark brown eyes to go along with jet black hair, almost looks more as if he could be related to Bo.
Bo-I almost forgot.
"Little sister, come now." He says and without warning I am running after him laughing—I don't know why I am laughing but we are—God, I forgot what it was like to laugh just for the sake of laughing. "Little sister, you're falling behind."
"I'm coming." My own thoughts echo my reproduced voice.
We run and run across a field of freshly cut grass so green I'm sure it must be fake. My mind drifting between my own thoughts and those of my shadow self.
Abruptly my vision blurs as it had minutes ago and when it clears I am running in the front door of my house, Aiden running down the long hall. But I don't run I walk—I don't know why I am walking or how I got here but I observe—it's all I can do.
It's extravagant, it's elegant—it's beyond anything imaginable.
I come to a stop and look at this suit of armor, one of several displayed proudly along this extensive hall. I feel like I like this one—like I stop to do this often—an attachment of sorts.
It's obviously made for a female warrior, the under color black with a reddish orange tint coating it—why does this feel so familiar?
I take a few steps to the left, little fingers running along a glass case that happens to be tilted downward, a scroll of some kind inside on display—I'm not tall enough to read all of it or even most of it, only the last few bottom lines.
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From the dust I was created I will undoubtedly return,
From the ashes of destruction I will undoubtedly rise,
From death I will undoubtedly be reborn,
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A strange familiarity at these words, a sense of pride when I say the to myself-it's all so familiar as if a memory slowly floating back to me, but I cannot place them, my eyes moving down to the engraving of a Phoenix just underneath the words, flames drawn around it.
I thought they had been extinct for a thousand plus years along with every trace of them except a few trinkets here and there, small things that the likes of the Dark and Light had buried somewhere—not in my family's hall to be on display.
My eyes begin to blur out of focus, an unusual pain resonating in the back of my head. When they begin to refocus yet again I am not standing in front of this display but rather being grabbed by my mother, my brother being pushed against me so hard it brings pain, he's crying—I'm crying?
"Anya they are coming." This man says rushing into this—office? He sets a spear on a desk—his desk as he looks at us, pure fear in his eyes but he manages a tearful smile. He looks just like my brother. "Anya."
"I know Caleb." She snaps looking over her shoulder and then back to us, tears filling her eyes. "No matter what you see, no matter what you hear you stay in here and you do not make a sound. Quite as mice in our church during mass, do you understand me?" we nod. "Remember," she pauses, hands placed over our hearts. "All my heart." She kisses us roughly atop of the head before pushing us into this—wardrobe.
Aiden holds onto me as we both peer through the split between the doors. She gives our father a kiss before turning toward the door that opens with such force we see one side slide across the floor.
"Where is it Anya?" a male's deep, raspy voice asks.
"Tell him the deal is off,"
"It' doesn't work that way." This time a female's voice.
"It has to. Deception upon deception, my kind would never go through with this—he must have known when I found out I wouldn't take any further part."
"Anya, give it to us-no one has to die." Another female's voice. "Would you be as so foolish as to die on principles, principles that have all but been forgotten?"
"It is what I believe in, my mother and father before me and so backward until my lineage began. Do you not remember yours?"
"Speak nothing to us of our lineage," the male's voice raises as heavy footsteps near till he is in the line of sight. I can't see his face but I see his wings—black wings I recognize—Valkyrie wings.
"Brother," she says softly taking a step toward him, reaching out and cupping his cheek—an embrace he seems to nuzzle into. "Was one fall from grace not enough? Must you commit another—" her words cut off as he grabs her by the face—my brother gripping my arm as I try to move. "Caleb no!" she screams the best she can manage as my father lunges at her attacker.
He never makes it near them as a glimmer flashes by our narrow vision—but I see something. I see my father's leg—his arm—part of his torso—suspended in air against the wall maybe five feet above the ground. I hear my mother's scream and feel my brother's hand go over my mouth.
There is this screech that follows before the sound of glass shattering—her attacker releasing her and stumbling backward holding his head as if in immense pain. It's only a moment and she has the spear in her hand, these wings emerging from her back. They aren't like Valkyrie wings, these are white with a mixture of red and organ ever so slightly mixed in creating its own uniquely beautiful color, they are long but narrow toward then end—wings of a Phoenix?
I cannot see much but my mother is holding them off rather easily—all six of them. It's perhaps seconds and two have already fallen at her hand-and then a third.
It's a solid twenty seconds before she loses her weapon and the fight becomes far more primal—only glimpses are seen of them as they fly through the air-another falls.
It's another ten to fifteen seconds before another falls—this time it's my mother.
The only male landing on his feet next to her staring down but his back is too me—I can't see his face.
"The Dark King sends his condolences," his words a chuckle as he lifts his leg, foot positioned for her face.
"Stop!' I yell bolting through the doors with such force that I fall face forward onto the ground heard enough to break skin as I feel the blood already rushing down the side of my face. "Stop!" I make it too my feet just in time to find myself being dragged out of the office and down the hall my eyes never once leaving that man's—and his never leaving mine.
Reaching the main hall just feet from the door a loud thud forces me to look forward—I don't want to-I want to see my mother who has managed to get out from his hold.
In front of us a boy in his late teens larger than life, he looks like my mother even more so by the fact that he isn't wearing a shirt so there is nothing to obstruct his immense wings.
"Come now." He says scooping us in his massive arms and running us through the open door out into the driveway and then to the grass where this had all begun. "Take her and run! Don't look back."
I know that voice.
Once again I am being pulled by my toward the tree line, my eyes watching as the familiar stranger spreads his wings and makes it back to the house in a single leap.
"Little sister!" Aiden yells and despite my mind wanting to keep looking back-wanting to go back I look forward as I run.
I run so hard it hurts—so hard I can't breathe-sticks and stones cutting through the flesh at the bottoms of my feet but I don't stop—the sun begins ever so slightly but I don't stop.
I don't stop until I smack into something rock solid, I would have fallen back had it not reached out and grabbed my arms.
"Careful girl," I know this voice. Eye move up this massive body slowly to find my eyes staring into those of Isaac—the Ash who had imprisoned me.
"Let her go." Aiden yells breathlessly and runs for him only to be held at arm's length, Isaac's hand on his shoulder.
"Aiden," I like my brother turn to the voice coming from the trees. "It's okay." From the trees emerges-?
I can't believe-No—No—No-my vision begins to blur and pattern holding to form when it clears I am being carried out of the woods by an officer—my brother not far behind being carried by another.
Looking over toward the house-it is nothing more than a ball of flames.
It's night now—but with as big as this fire is, as violent as its flames are-it may as well have been day.
I stare at this ball of flames-my home-the tomb where my mother and father lay-where that man-whoever he was must lay as well.
I stare into the flames as I feel something welling inside of myself, hatred-anger-pain-agony—terror-numbness.
Abruptly I'm freezing again-shaking-but I'm not-my vision blurring but there is this new pain now—this pain on both sides of my shoulders as if I'm being pulled toward something. A sick feeling spreading through my stomach as I feel myself being ripped through time.
The memories replaying backward in a blur stopping when I find myself standing on the ledge looking down—it's only moment and I being ripped toward-reality?
"Lauren-breathe dammit-breath!" I hear Bo's voice.
"Breathe." This order coming from-Dyson?
"Lauren-baby please breathe." Her voice pulling me further toward reality-but what reality?
My eyes open as I gasp for air—already in an upright position-body trembling—I can finally feel myself trembling and though I feel this frost in my bones I'm drenched in sweat.
She is holding my shoulders staring into my eyes with so much fear-so much terror but I can't—I can't sympathize with it-I know it should hurt me like it always does but in this moment—I feel nothing-not for her-or anyone.
"Lauren," her hands release my shoulders and go to my face before falling back down to my arms. "Are you okay? Can you breathe?" eyes dance over my face with such concern. "Lauren-say something."
"I remember."