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Stormy, harsh, soulless eyes.
The same eyes that are fixating on me right now.
“Ava? Can you hear me?”
The rough timbre of his voice nearly sends me into a second, more prominent panic attack. My heartbeat spikes and the machines go crazy. Crazier than the fake note of concern in his voice.
He curses under his breath and pushes something above my head as he strokes my face.
“Breathe, Ava. Fuck, come on, beautiful. Breathe.”
I actually stop panicking for a second because what…? What’s going on?
He called me ‘beautiful’ and he’s touching me. Matter of fact, he’s been touching me since I woke up.
Eli never touches me.
The longer I stare at his eyes, the more my breathing slows. They’re different. But how…? Why…?
“That’s it. Good girl.”
My heart trips over itself and my breathing stutters. The machines beep louder and my world tilts on its axes.
Did Eli just call me a good girl?
TheEli King?
Oh.
This must be a dream, after all. Let’s hope it doesn’t turn into a nightmare where he jams a spear into my chest and laughs like a maniac as my blood splatters on his precious shoes.
I close my eyes and will myself to go back to reality. This is just so cruel, even by my strange dreams’ standards.
“Ava…open those eyes. Look at me.”
I peek at him and immediately regret it. His somber gray eyes are as angry as a hurricane and as tempting as the damn devil.
“You feeling all right?”
His words don’t match his expression. He sounds concerned, but he looks bored. Cold. Indifferent.
Like the Eli I’m used to and the Tin Man we all know and hate.
This imposter needs to piss off, or at least put more effort into sounding sardonic and unbearably sarcastic like the actual Eli. Two out of five on Trustpilot. Could use more imitation skills.
I pull the mask from my face with an ease I didn’t expect. Honestly, after that accident, with a truck, no less, I expected to die or at least end up with lifelong paralysis. In the best-casescenario, I’d get away with a few broken bones. I stare down at myself, at my hands, and move my toes again.
Nothing.
There’s no way in hell I would’ve come out of that one unscathed.
Hold on. Was the accident a dream?
Though, if I were speculating, I’d bet money the current situation is the actual dream, not the other one.
Maybe I’m dead and this is a benevolent angel’s effort to give me a dreamlike experience of what I couldn’t have when alive.
Brilliant. Dead at twenty-one. What a loss of potential.
