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Chapter 49: One Year Later pt 2
Last Updated:
2024-10-29 19:42:56
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Elijah and I walk down the street arm and arm as I shove a very delicious mango mochi in my mouth. I glance to my right to see Elijah looking at me with shock on his face. “What?” I ask with a mouth full of mochi. “Did you just eat the last mochi?” I swallow what’s in my mouth and smile at him, “Yup.” “I can’t believe you,” he says, shaking his head. “Hey, you drank the last of my vegetable juice this morning,” I remind him. “Touché,” he concedes. We continue to walk for another block, just enjoying the nice evening air. The streets aren’t too busy, so it’s relatively quiet. The peaceful stillness gives me time to think and reflect and get lost in my own thoughts. Elijah’s business has been slow this month, as has mine, so we’ve both had more time to spend together just enjoying each other’s company, and we’ve both needed it. Especially since my last job had me hunting someone down all over France which was goddamn exhausting. After Peyton’s ‘accident’, it left Elijah as the so
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“Where is my little Blackheart?!” Comes my grandfather’s deep but silky voice, and my face breaks out into a huge grin as he enters the room. “Grandpa!” I shout and leap at him. He catches me in his strong arms and holds me to him as he chuckles, “Did you get more tattoos? There won’t be any unmarked skin left soon,” he teases. “Very funny,” I say, kissing his cheek. Gosh, I haven’t seen Grandpa Titus in months. I’ve missed him like crazy. I’m telling you my family doesn’t age. Grandpa Titus is the definition of a silver fox. He’s 6’3” and at the age of seventy-nine is still as buff and muscular as my dad. He has some crow’s feet around his blueish-grey eyes and some wrinkling on his forehead, but besides that, his skin doesn’t show much sign of aging, except maybe his hands. He has shoulder-length wavey salt-and-pepper hair and a short salt-and-pepper beard with a moustache. His long-pointed nose is slightly crooked due to breaking it so many times, but it just makes him look tou
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Elijah and I walk down the street arm and arm as I shove a very delicious mango mochi in my mouth. I glance to my right to see Elijah looking at me with shock on his face. “What?” I ask with a mouth full of mochi. “Did you just eat the last mochi?” I swallow what’s in my mouth and smile at him, “Yup.” “I can’t believe you,” he says, shaking his head. “Hey, you drank the last of my vegetable juice this morning,” I remind him. “Touché,” he concedes. We continue to walk for another block, just enjoying the nice evening air. The streets aren’t too busy, so it’s relatively quiet. The peaceful stillness gives me time to think and reflect and get lost in my own thoughts. Elijah’s business has been slow this month, as has mine, so we’ve both had more time to spend together just enjoying each other’s company, and we’ve both needed it. Especially since my last job had me hunting someone down all over France which was goddamn exhausting. After Peyton’s ‘accident’, it left Elijah as the so
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~FLASHBACK A YEAR AGO~ “Anyone ever tell you what a wonderful couple you two make?” John gushes. “You would be the first, but thank you,” I say with a bright smile. “Honestly feels like we’ve been together forever,” Elijah coos as he kisses my temple again. I’ve lost track of how many times he’s done that now. Before John can throw more compliments at our fake relationship, my phone rings. I reach out and take my phone off the coffee table. “Excuse me, I have to take this,” I say as I get up and make my way to the balcony while Elijah watches on curiously. I close the sliding door behind me and answer the call. “It’s Victor,” I hear the voice greet. “I can’t take on another job at the moment, I’m still working on this one.” “I wish that’s why I was calling,” he says, his voice sounding ominous, yet filled with guilt. “Then why are you calling?” “A letter arrived for you today… it’s from The Tournament,” he says anxiously. I sigh and lean against the rail. Fuck my luck. I glan
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As I pull up to Il Segreto in my Jaguar, grab my handcrafted sterling silver clutch purse and open it to once again confirm Crimson is carefully tucked away inside. I close my purse back up, pull down my visor, and examine my makeup. My ivory skin is accentuated by my smokey black eyes with gold glitter pressed into the corner of my eyes. My lips are painted black as midnight with glitter that sparkles brighter than the stars. My black hair, which has grown exceptionally long over the past year, is up in a high, fluffy bun with tendrils coming down framing my face and hiding the faint scar that travels down the left side of my hairline. I gingerly touch the scar with my freshly manicured mirror chrome painted nails and reminisce on just how far I’ve come in this past year. ~FLASHBACK ONE YEAR AGO~ “That’s it. We’re retiring,” I hear my mother whisper yell in Italian. I feel myself waking up, but I can’t seem to open my eyes, but even so, I take comfort in knowing my mother is here,
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I jolt awake as I feel something touch my lips. Instinctively I flinch away, thinking it’s Hadleigh back for another round of torture. “It’s just water,” I hear Elijah’s gentle voice say. I force my good eye open, as my other is now swollen shut. Even in this dim light I am able to make out the guilt that is all over his handsome face. I glance at the water bottle and gladly let him help me sip from it. It hurts, but I can feel how dehydrated my body is, so I’m grateful for the water. I can feel the blood drying on my skin making my flesh itch, and I have so many wounds and injuries at this point that my entire body is just raw with pain. “Keeping me alive so she can torture me more?” I ask in a croaky voice. Each movement of my mouth makes the cuts and contusion to my face ache and sting painfully. “I never wanted this, Heart. I didn’t have a choice,” he says, as if pleading for me to forgive him. “There’s always… a choice. I told you that night… all you had to do… was ask for my
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Everything was peaceful and painless, and I was dreaming about the hikes I used to take with my family. The fact I was dreaming means I’m still alive and if that wasn’t proof enough, then the fact my body is shocked into a state of consciousness as I feel excruciating pain shoot through my neck, would be a dead giveaway. I feel disoriented and yet every pain receptor in my body feels like it’s been amped up to a thousand, so I can’t stop the scream that escapes me. I feel something sharp in my neck and the warmth of my own blood gliding down my skin. I try to move but I instantly realise my arms and legs are bound. What hell have I woken up to now? “Got it!” I hear a man’s voice declare. He sounds American “Good, now destroy it so no one can use it to track her and find her here,” says a woman’s voice… a familiar woman’s voice at that. I hear the sounds of feet shuffling against concrete and a door that needs some oil, opening and closing. There’s an echo when the door shuts indic
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Laying on the cot in the Red Room, I hold myself in the foetal position as agonising pain rips through my abdomen. I managed to stop throwing up and shitting my organs out long enough for them to bring me here and to add insult to injury, the nerve block in my feet has worn off, so right now, all I have is pain. My insides feel like they’re constricted and on fire, my hands are throbbing painfully as I clench them into fists to fight off the pain, and my feet feel like they’re on fire. I can feel the sweat soaking my hair and clothes and my breathing becoming more laboured by the minute. I bet Hexton was so proud of himself for putting me in here, thinking it would fuck with my head, but I barely even notice this stupid fucking Red Room because I’m distracted by pain. I’m probably going to die in this place. At this point it seems inevitable and yet I’m just not ready to give up. My parents survived hell just like this so they could come home to me, if I just give up, then they’ll be
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An answer to my question is given when another man enters my room, this time pushing the most compact, futuristic electric chair I’ve ever seen. It’s really just a small seat on top of big tyres, there’s not much to it, and nowhere near as bulky or cumbersome as the kind you see the elderly use. It has a joystick control, black leather lining and white exterior. I glare at the contraption with clear disdain. I’m reduced to an electric wheelchair because they won’t just let me go. Can’t walk or do shit, but still expected to make an appearance. I’ll be a sitting duck. Before the doctor administers the nerve block, he changes the bandages on my hands for a thinner, skin-coloured bandage, then the women help me into a one-shoulder floor-length lilac glittering sequined gown with a sweetheart bust and a slit up to my hip on my left side. It’s stunning and hugs my body perfectly. My hair is styled in a large intricate updo that appears full and voluminous while also being sleek. My nails m
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I feel myself start to wake up, but I can’t seem to open my eyes. The more alert my senses become the more aware I am of the pain and heaviness radiating through my body. I feel like I was thrown off a cliff and smashed against jagged rocks over and over and over again, but that’s just my body. My feet are another story. Tears prick my shut eyes as the excruciating sensation of raw nerve endings being exposed hits me and I want to scream. The only thing stopping me is how weak I feel. I force my eyes open and thankfully am met by a dim light at the far end of the room. I can hear the sound of a heart monitor beeping its infuriating rhythm, but one that reminds me I’m alive. I see several IV bags hung up, and as I attempt to glance down I notice the oxygen mask on my face. My body is wrapped up tight in shiny silver heat sheets and blankets like a little human burrito. Everything except my feet. My feet are suspended in harnesses, covered in some kind of cream. Even from here, I can s
