Page 44 of A Broken Promise

My body might have been becoming an assassin machine, my mind sharp and clear, but my soul?

No.

No amount of food or sleep or training could ever fix that.

22

Large waves crashed against the dark rock. So loud and powerful. The horizon was so clear as the endless waters met the blue sky. The afternoon sun was covered in sheer clouds. A tall, large figure stood near the edge. I ran my hand through the tall grass, walking towards it, watching a large raven coast against the strong current of the ocean airstream. The salt filled air kissed my lungs, welcoming me to the edge of the world.

The tall figure now turned to me. His dark eyes staring at me. Notatme, throughme. Straight to my shivering soul, as if he could see me.

All of me.

Abruptly, I woke up to the static darkness in my room. My heart beat faster and faster while my lungs became leaden.

“It was just a dream. Just a freaky dream,” I repeated to myself out loud, trying to calm myself down, turning on the unique oil lamp on my carved nightstand, lighting up the large bedroom.

Just a dream.

I ran a hand over my forehead, rubbing my face, tugging on my cheeks to ground myself.

I could never forget that face.

Those dark, haunted eyes.

The eyes of theDestroyer General.

A drink. I needed a drink.

I moved away the heavy warm blankets and made it across the room to the washroom, my bare feet loving the feeling of the deep, plush, cream-colored carpets. I could feel cold water washing down my throat, cooling me off.

Some nights the dreams never stopped, and I enjoyed seeing a glimpse of the depth of my imagination, but I would rather never sleep than seehimin my dreams again.

There was no point in trying to fall back asleep. Not when that dream made me feel so open, so violated. A small shiver ran through me like a little lightning bolt.

I could still feel the salty air in my lungs, the silky grass at my fingertips.

It all felt so real. That look. Those eyes. Ripping my scars wide open. Encroaching

into my soul.

I fought the traitorous thoughts in my brain. As much as I wished to be able to be in complete control of my feelings, of my dreams, I still wasn’t.

Angry and defeated, I grabbed a thick book off my nightstand and flipped it open.

If I wasn’t strong enough to erase my dreams, then maybe “Plants and Poisons around the world” would.

23

My fingers were still wrinkly from being in water too long. Newly washed laundry was now hanging up in the laundry room, a large wall fan blowing the air was slowly drying them.

Laundry was my kind of therapy. Warm and cold water kept my overstimulated thoughts anchored to the present. The stretching and the rubbing and the twisting of fabric let the feelings out; the chemical smell of soaps and salts stung my eyes, burning the tears out.

I worked until my mind was just as fresh and crisp as the fabric neatly pinned on the laundry lines.

Priya was already in her large greenhouse, her hair up in a messy bun with large, dangly earrings sophisticating her otherwise simple look. Garden beds and pots were stationed everywhere, filled with all manner of vegetation.

She didn’t look at me as she dug a small hole in the moist dirt and planted one of the small green plants into the ruffled sod.

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