Page 38 of Savage Sacrifice
I’m a girl, hiding in the treehouse, singing with my mother, running through the overgrown fields with my father. I’m a girl at school, skipping and laughing with my friends. I’m a girl filled with hope, joy, and excitement.
I was just a happy little girl.
Emotions clog my throat, disbelief morphing into tears as I ache for the girl that I was, ache for the girl that I had to be, and ache for the pain I’ve faced every day because of it.
As the memories ease, forever nestling in my mind, I make a vow to myself.
I vow to be everything that little girl was supposed to be.
I vow to be light, and happy, and strong.
I vow to be me.
The pain subsides, but it takes me a few moments to pry my eyes open. The second I do, my eyes latch onto his.
Blue.
Like the ocean. I remember seeing it once, now it’s forever imprinted in his eyes.
“Lincoln,” I breathe, fixated on him as the golden barrier between us and the room dissolves.
“Midnight?” he rasps, concern etched into his features, and I smile. It comes from my soul, pouring from my heart as I let his nickname wash over me.
The nickname I remember.
He must see it in my gaze as my vision blurs, my emotions getting the better of me, and he pins me against his chest, squeezing the life out of me, and I let him as I sob.
I can’t control it, and there’s no containing it, so I let it out, every last drop, until I’m spent.
When the tears finally subside, I lean back just enough to look up at him. The watery smile from him leaves me breathless. “I always knew you weren’t really an asshole,” I whisper, and he grins, shaking his head at me as he hugs me again. “Minnie?” I breathe, another sob strangling me as I speak her name, and his hold grows tighter.
“She’s okay, Polaris. We’re all okay. We were just missing you.”
I cling to him like my life depends on it, acutely aware that we’re not alone in the room, but I don’t care.
“Do I have a lot of catching up to do?”
“I think we all do,” he offers, leaning back, and I relax my hold on him. “We should probably start in this room,” he adds, drawing his gaze to my parents, and the nurse who I now recognize as Belladora, and I gulp.
Turning my attention back to him, I squeeze his arm.
“Lincoln,” I mutter, and he glances down at me. “I remember.”
“I know, Midnight. It’s going to be okay.”
“No, I remember everything… pre-Florentine’s.”
His brows furrow for a moment before his jaw grows slack.
Clearing my throat, I turn my attention to the couple on the sofa.
My parents.
The solemn look on their faces says enough as I recall the night I was taken. A moment blocked from my memory for so long, which now cuts me deeper than anything else.
“It’s because of you,” I start, and my mother stands, wringing her hands together in front of me.
“Polaris, let me explain. We?—”
