Page 102 of Cerulean Truth
“No,” I replied firmly. “I’m done babying you. I get it, you underwent enormous trauma and those assholes will pay for what they did to you, but you’ve got to stop blocking that out. Or you leaving behind everything in the Human World, will all have been for nothing.”
Emma stilled. Completely.
“You think my trauma from being 'bled out' is what's hindering my translation?" she whispered, her eyes wide and blue, filled with a hint of helplessness. Damn, that look in her eyes tugged at my heart.
"I don't know," I answered honestly. "You've mentioned before that you've only translated when your life was in danger, and even though it's untraceable, it's still pretty insane that it took us so long to find you... So, no, it might not be the sole reason, but I'm willing to bet it's at least part of the problem."
She sighed. "Okay, then how do I fix that? And don't suggest talking about it because I don't do therapy."
I coughed, suppressing a laugh. Thank the gods for that, she'd probably drive her therapist into therapy on her first day.
"Why am I so different? First, my translation is untraceable, then I can only translate when I'm fearing for my life, and now I'm so completely blocked I can't even use my own Nexus properly," she spat out, her frustration boiling over.
Feeling a twinge of guilt, I cursed my inability to provide her with any answers.
"Why is that?" she demanded, her voice thick with despair.
"I'm not sure," I replied gruffly, but as I spoke, memories of my first ten years came rushing back with a force that knocked the breath out of me.
Especially the lack of emotion I’d felt back when I was just a kid in foster care. I understood all too well how that worked. Emma was blocking it out because she was afraid of it. She feared being crumbled by everything she felt so she had decided to not feel anything at all.
But tackling that meant…opening up to her. Which I hadn’t done…ever.
Her intense gaze bore into me as she studied my face. Could she sense my inner turmoil? Why was it so damn hot in her dorm?
I sat down on her bed, trying to decide whether or not to tell her a small part of my past that could maybe help her out in the future.
The urge to wipe that frown off her pretty face eventually overpowered my reservations. With a heavy sigh, I braced myself to unveil something I'd kept locked away for far too long.
"To be honest," I began, the words coming out rough and raw, "I was much the same when I started out here. It wasn't the technique that tripped me up; it were mostly the emotions. I'd buried them so deep, blocked them off for so long, letting myself feel anything, let alone enough to translate, felt like a damn pipe dream."
Emma’s eyebrows pinched, her curiosity piqued. "Why did you bury them?"
I closed my eyes for a few seconds, the weight of my past pressing down on me. "Same reason as you, basically. Trauma." I kept it as vague as I could, hoping my tone would indicate I wasn’t eager to elaborate.
She blinked, absorbing my words before nodding slowly. Surprisingly, she didn't press for more details.
“So how did you do it then? Navigate the whole emotion-stuff?” she asked tentatively.
"It wasn't easy," I admitted. "I had to confront my past, embrace the pain it brought forth, and allow myself to feel it all."
Emma swallowed hard, her eyes reflecting a mixture of apprehension and recognition.
Yeah, it seemed like I was on the right track. After a moment of hesitation, I decided it was time to reveal the truth.
"Up until you," I reluctantly continued, "I was actually the eldest one discovered."
Her head snapped up, shock etched across her features. "Discovered? You were a Humanborn?" she gasped.
"Yes, I was," I replied, swallowing back the memories threatening to surface. "And growing up in and out of foster care, I quickly learned to tamp down every feeling that threatened to emerge."
"You were in foster care?" Her eyes widened in surprise as she settled beside me on the bed.
"Yeah... it's a long story." I shrugged, signaling my reluctance to delve into it.
"I'm so sorry... that must've been awful," she murmured, inching closer to me.
I let out a dry snort. "It wasn't exactly a walk in the park."
