Page 135
Sleep, something I have never struggled with before, except when my father died, has become a constant source of stress for me. I never feel rested; instead, I am wired and almost drunk on my exhaustion. I wake up groggily, the light coming in through my bedroom window, forcing me awake. My entire body feels like it has been set alight, the burning getting worse once again. Each passing day becomes worse as heat ravages my entire body, my mind constantly consumed with ways to try and lessen it, yet nothing works.
I fight back tears as I force myself into the shower to get ready for the day. I just want it to end so I can feel normal, yet the heat only subsides briefly. I feel like I am on autopilot, my body functioning with no emotion as I get ready for work. I don’t even remember the drive to work. I don’t remember getting the coffee in my hand. Everything is so repetitive that I am losing time. My days become a blank space in my memory.
The entire morning goes by swiftly; I blink, and it is gone completely, going through the normal motions. I have been losing track of time, losing days as they all blur into one. I am at my desk when I hear the usual elevator bing, forcing me to look up as she enters the floor. My sister’s heels click on the tiles as she walks in and over to me with our lunch in her hands.
It turns out Eli has said something to my mother about me overworking and not eating enough, which turned into an argument at home until mom practically ordered Taylor to watch me. Every day now, except the two days my sister is supposed to get Maya from school instead of my mother, Taylor comes up and has her lunch break with me.
“I got us Subway for lunch,” she says, dragging an office chair over to my desk before unrolling the sandwich she’s brought and handing half to me.
I am not hungry; I never have an appetite anymore. But to keep everyone happy, I force myself to eat though it feels like a huge task forcing myself to chew and swallow. I no longer enjoy meals, no longer enjoy really anything except the quiet of the office. I feel hollow and empty, but it is better than feeling scared and tormented, even though now I am tormented in other ways, my mind a constant torment of indecision.
“Must be boring sitting up here by yourself. Why don’t you see if you can work in one of the offices downstairs?” my sister asks before biting into her half of the sandwich.
I take a bite before answering, realizing mine has meatballs. “It’s not so bad, and at least I don’t have to deal with Troy. I don’t mind the quiet,” I tell her.
She nods, taking another bite. “Yeah, Troy is a constant pain. You should tell your lovers to fire him. I don’t think he even works, just loiters around the bottom floor. I swear if he touches my ass once more, I am going to break his fingers,” Taylor says.
“How’s Bella?” I ask her, and she nods, chewing her food.
“Good, she asked about you. How come you barely talk to her anymore?” Taylor asks.
“Got nothing to say unless it is work-related,” I tell her.
“Do you want to grab some movies on the way home? We can have a movie night and a few drinks. Might make you feel better. You seem so sad all the time.”
“Sounds good,” I tell her, not that I really want to watch movies and sit around. I don’t know what I want, but I want to be alone—of that much, I am certain. But if it keeps her and mom off my back, I will participate.
“We should also have a girls’ night, go out and have fun. I can’t remember the last time I went out. I can ask mom to watch Maya for the night, go to a club or something.”
“Maybe. I don’t really like going out. Not my scene anymore.” The last thing I want is to be around drunk men trying to rub and touch me.
We eat in silence. Things are weird around Taylor. I struggle to relate to her anymore. I am happy for her, glad she is back to her old self, but with so many years of us being estranged and her not remembering any of it, it is hard for me to be around her, constantly biting my tongue. She’s caused so much anguish, and I know it wasn’t her fault.
Nobody asks to be a drug addict, but I am struggling to forgive her, which makes it hard now that she is home. She has no idea of the sacrifices mom and I have made for her. I love her, always have, always will, but now I am constantly waiting for the relapse again. Only this time, I know it won’t come, but it still doesn’t make me forget the number of times we thought she was better, only for her to revert to her old self. Or maybe it is just that she has no memory and is going about her life like nothing happened that irks me, while here I am, haunted by my own past and unable to forget. I am jealous that she can just get up and move on with her life, while mine feels like it is spiraling out of control, too fast for me to stop.
When we finish eating, she cleans up before giving me a side hug and taking the elevator back downstairs. I return to work, keeping myself busy until home time.
We stop to buy movies, and Taylor buys a bottle of wine for her and mom. I have no intention of drinking. I feel like shit already, so I don’t need anything to add to that feeling.
We watch movies with Maya, making sure they are all family movies, not horror. I start to get uncomfortable after dinner and can feel myself burning up as I sit sweating on the lounge. It get to the point my shirt is drenched and sticking to me. I get up, a massive wave of vertigo hitting me, and I stagger toward the hallway. I can vaguely hear someone ask if I am alright before the room spins violently, my vision blurring, and I see the ground rush toward my face. I don’t even feel the impact as I hit the floor. All I see is darkness.
#
Cyrus
Eli isn’t coping. Mates aren’t supposed to be apart. It doesn’t affect me as much as him, though I love her just as much. His Lycan side and the urge to mate her are beginning to overwhelm him. We have marked her but haven’t mated her yet. The full moon also isn’t helping as it shines through the window, making his urges much worse. The moon doesn’t affect Lycans the way most stories would have you believe, but it does affect them, strengthening their primal urges; some have even gone mad from it, so crazed they have turned cannibalistic.
Fur starts growing on Eli’s arms as the urge to shift and hunt her worsens. Getting up, I shut the curtains in the bedroom before sitting back on the bed, hoping that just closing them would help him remain in control. He makes a strangled noise between a whimper and a growl.
“Try to have a hot shower. It might help,” I tell him.
“Nothing will help until she is back here where she belongs, with us,” he snaps at me.
I have become used to his outbursts; they seem to be a daily occurrence now.
“I am just trying to help, Eli. No need to be snappy and snarly,” I tell him, annoyed.
He isn’t the only one who misses her, but I am not about to snap, shift, and whine at the moon like him. The bloody temperamental beast he is. I shake my head at him, grabbing my book off the nightstand, planning to ignore his whining and groaning. I love the man, but sometimes he can be a real jerk.
