The Contradiction of Solitude(27)

This fed something dark and dangerous inside me.

Because Elian Beyer made me crave things.

Other things.

Normal things.

Things that were bad for my soul.

Elian wasn’t the first.

But he was the most special.

And that could be very, very terrifying for a woman like me.

“I like it,” I told him. And I did. I walked until I was standing in front of the window that overlooked the massive limestone quarry. The solitude was enticing.

“I’m glad,” Elian replied.

We stood quietly for a time, neither expecting anything, wanting nothing.

We just were.

“I bought your guitar today,” I said rather suddenly, my voice too loud. It was jarring in my ears.

“I figured that was you,” Elian said, handing me a bottle of beer. I hadn’t asked for one and I didn’t particularly want it. I didn’t drink. I liked having a clear head. Because too often it was muddled by other things.

“You did?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Why did you buy it?” Elian posed his own question, ignoring mine.

I shrugged, taking a drink of beer and instantly regretting it. I put the bottle down on the windowsill.

When I didn’t answer him, I thought he would move on. This time he didn’t. His unpredictability was shaking me.

“Why did you buy it, Layna? I need to know.” Elian was emphatic. Frantic almost. His hair fell into his eyes and all I could see of his dancing green eyes were slits of color lost in the dark.

“Why does it matter?” I countered. Elian clenched his hands, the muscles in his neck protruding and pronounced. I knew that these were his riddles. I knew the price he would have to pay to relinquish them.

But I wanted to devour his secrets. All of them. Until I was bloated and full on the things he wanted no one else to discover.

“That piece was…special.” His words leaked out of him. Dribbling into a puddle on the floor.

“It’s special to me too,” I said.

Elian’s jaw relaxed and his fingers uncurled, no longer angry firsts.

“I’ll take care of your star, Elian. It’s safe with me,” I assured him. Safe. Safe. Safe.

Elian turned away from me and picked up his beer, drinking the last drops.

“It’ll be dark soon. Let’s go light a fire,” he said, his voice thick and coarse. I assumed he was embarrassed by his outburst. A typical male response to emotion. I was sadly disappointed to see him displaying it.

Then he advanced across the room and reached out as though to grab ahold of my face. I was shocked. I went immobile. I hadn’t expected it. Elian was unreadable and the flutter in my chest was a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

What was he going to do?

If he dared touch me, he’d lose everything. I’d never met a man so ready for his annihilation.

Then he held me. My face cradled in his hands.

He wasn’t gentle or delicate but rough and determined. His thumbs pressed into my cheeks. I could feel the pads against the curve of bone beneath the skin.

I pulled my breath in through my teeth, a soundless hiss. I walked toward the one place I shouldn’t go…he had told me to stay. I didn’t.

I went anyway…

Green eyes stared long and hard into coal black. Lips moved with words not spoken aloud. The air was thick and warm. Fingers digging their way inside. Taking all of me even though I wasn’t giving.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I closed my eyes.

He kissed me.

Electric. Charged.

Sliding lips. Tangled tongues. Hands never moving but mouths everywhere.

Elian bit down on my bottom lip. Hard. Brutal. I tasted the blood and I tasted everything.

There were sounds unlike anything I had ever heard. From him. From me.

Slick and wet.

“Let me in,” Elian whispered against my bleeding lips.

Let him in.

Let him in.

Let me in.

I pulled away, breathing heavy and quick. I felt dizzy. Like I was floating.

Up to the stars.

I covered my mouth with my hand and realized I was shaking. I pulled my fingers away and saw the bright red.

Elian saw it too. He didn’t apologize.

I was glad.

I would have hated him for it.





The letter came just as it always did. On the third day of July.

Same day.

Every year.

The day of my awakening.

A dawning.

The day I entered hell.

The day he was taken away.

It fell through the slot in my door, landing on the rug that muffled the noise of my beast.

I knew the day. I woke up feeling it in my bones.

Shaking. Sweating. Hard to breathe.

I picked up the pile of mail and carried it into the kitchen. I carefully sorted until I found the one that I knew was there.

Cream colored envelope. Scrawled, barely legible handwriting. My name spelled out in careful letters. I pressed it to my chest, then lifted it to my cheek. I could feel the words inside, pressing against my skin.

Their promises.

Their affection.

Their doom.

I purposefully folded the letter that I would never read into a perfect square and walked back to the room where I slept. I pulled the flower-patterned box from beneath the bed and opened it.