Page 168 of Nemesync
He was hurt, and he was reassuring me.
A text from Brian lit up my phone.
Brian
Are you okay? I saw what happened on the news, and I knew you were there (stalker shit). Let me know you’re safe, Huntress.
With a sigh, I replied, tapping on my screen.
Me
I’m okay, just shaken. We’ll talk soon about that stalking habit but thank you for asking.
My mind is turning my own world upside down.
It just wouldn’t stop, never, no matter how much I wished it would.
They will never go away.
33
ELIJAH
It’s been a few days since I took that damn bullet. I could’ve survived and fuck them up. But she came through like a fucking warrior and saved me.
She saved me.
I thought about it while Ben tried to stitch me up later that night.
I don’t feel pain, well, at least not in the way regular people do.
For me, pain isn’t distressing; it’s relaxing. It reminds me that I exist, that my body is still connected by a thread with my mind. I’ve gotten so accustomed to it my whole life that it’s almost comforting. But seeing that worry in her eyes, the pain she felt, this one hurts, but not in the way I feel normally, it was fucking awful.
She was so stressed and sad it made my heart ache.
That beautiful fire in her eyes felt less bright. Her heart had stolen it and nourished it with sadness and anxiety, and I wanted to add fuel to it.
Sometimes I feel like she can’t understand how I understand her—the pain of feeling not worthy enough to be loved, notworthy enough to be taken care of. And even if I don’t know how to heal myself, I want to heal her.
I failed the little boy I was, but I want to succeed for her.
We were alone tonight, only the woman who put herself in danger because she thought I was in it myself, and I.
Hollow gaze. No fire for me tonight.
She snuggled beside me, her head resting on my chest close to my heart. I didn’t feel pain anymore, I felt relieved having her next to the thing she’s bringing back to life. “Talk to me, Zanae.”
Those empty eyes reflected so much pain when they met mine. I nodded to encourage her to speak.
“Talk. To. Me.”
She hesitated, biting her lips and closing her eyes, as if gathering all her courage to find the words. She was stressed about telling me what was happening because she was scared I’d judge her.
Fuck, no.
“Please, I’m here, I’ll listen,” I begged.
I don’t want her to hide her thoughts from me. I want everything she has. Even the pain.Mostlythe pain.
