Page 72 of Nemesync
His warm and protective hands caress my wrist and I don’t feel the pain anymore. I only feelhim. And I oddly feel better.
“Milaya, I loathe it with a passion.”
He cradles my head, and our eyes lock, a tear escapes, inviting him to wipe it away with his thumb.
In a hushed voice, weakened but audible, I whisper, “It’s so loud in my head, Elijah.”
He wipes a tear that has just fallen before approaching me and puts his forehead on mine, “I’ll make it stop.”
Please do.
“If you knew sadness before, I promise you that you’ll only learn happiness,” he promised.
And at that moment, I believed him.
I needed to believe him.
20
ELIJAH
Why is my soul fucking bleeding?
Every edge of my world blurs, I’m blinded by her suffering. Blinded by the way her dark hair fell in that bathtub like some dark shadows. Blinded by her empty gaze, almost dead, begging for salvation, pleading for asylum, for someone to offer her a sweet and brutal deliverance.
Everything fades away, but she remains clear and steady, my focal point.
Seeing her in this state awakens something deep within me— the need to reclaim her soul, own its fractures, and fill it with my existence, returning it whole when our two souls merge as one.
“I hate your tears more than I should,” I confessed. But she’s not listening. Focused on some foreign place, filled with trouble and chaos.
The image of her red eyes, stained with tears and blood, is etched in my mind forever.Red, I can’t see anything else, even with her in my arms, it’s still red all over. Her eyes, her wrist, her nose and lips.
10. No amber.
Give me colors, Zanae.
For years, I’ve been obsessed, drawn to the need to own her, filled with a strong resentment towards her, thinking she had stolen a part of me.
But I only see pain, only fucking sadness and emptiness.
I hate it.
I didn’t know— I didn’t fucking know.
I need her to see the same rainbow I see with her.
The flame that burns in my soul so brightly for her makes me forget my own vengeance when she’s nearby.
Her scent screams at me to follow her wherever she’s going. Freaking vanilla and musk.
I want her to understand that every aspect of her existence deserves to flourish—the damn sound of her when she laughs, the tone of her sweet voice, the steady beat of her heart, and that unique character that leaves me questioning everything.
Her darkness deserves to be embraced.
Destructive and fierce. My pretty nemesis is unaware of the warmth she provides.
I witnessed it with her friend Miranda and her son, and even with Niko. I see how they are comforted by her. I hate to admit it, I fucking despise it, but this woman right here isn’t the woman I hate.
