Page 16 of Nyx
A gift from someone who knows what it means to have nothing.
A smile tugs at my lips, and I try to bite it back, but the corners of my mouth tilt up. By the time I bend to pickup the stone, I’m cheesing like an idiot. It’s sun-warmed and smooth, and I hold it up to the sky as the light prisms into shades of golden yellow. I look behind me once more, and this time, I don’t hide my smile.
Inside, I place it on the windowsill where the most sunlight enters. And if it happens to be the window that faces a certain other cottage, where someone else might spot it sitting there…
Well, that’s just a fortunate coincidence.
Nyx
Delicioussmellswaftinmy direction, and my nose lifts as I take in the sweet scent. Dirt cakes my hands, though, and my mind is louder today than it has been in a while. It wouldn’t be wise to be around the others, because even if I wasn’t too dirty to investigate, I would make them uncomfortable with my silence.
So, I stay here among the flowers.
An entire brand new row of fresh yellow blooms lines the edge of my garden, and I pat the soil surrounding these I just replanted. They were thriving in the forest, covering wide areas of ground, but something had been nibbling on the plants at night. I can’t be upset with some innocent creature finding dinner, but these were so beautiful that I couldn’t stand the thought of them being eaten. I inspect my ever-expanding garden.
It seems I have this problem a lot.
A yawn stretches my mouth wide, and I have to remind myself not to rub my eyes while my hands are dirty.Last night was another sleepless one, for both Elas and me. He came when I was lying in bed, staring at my ceiling, but instead of knocking, he paced. Back and forth, back and forth, until it was clear he needed me to decide for him. As I opened the door, his emotions were conflicted. Apologetic regret for bothering me mixed with the relief of not being alone.
We talked little, though, aside from Elas sharing stories when the quiet became too much for him to bear. That was okay with me. Healing doesn’t always mean confronting the demons that haunt us, or reliving the terrible things we’ve endured. Sometimes, it’s just knowing someone is there to listen.
It’s obvious August is the center of his world, and he talks about him frequently. He worries about what his mate might think about him wandering off to spend time with me on these lonely nights, though he assures me he always tells him the next morning. That doesn’t surprise me. Elas is a special sort of loyal, even to those that don’t deserve his loyalty.
He shares tiny glimpses into their relationship that give me a warm buzz in my chest, while also making me ache for the comfort that they find in each other. It surprised me to realize I was… jealous. That I covet what he has. NotAugustspecifically, though he is lovely. But the connection. The familiarity and intimate certainty.
For most of my life, I’ve been in survival mode, and it left me unable to process anything beyond anger, fear, and loneliness. Those became my baseline, and jealousy is far removed from my emotional banks. But as I longed for the comfort of another, I knew that’s what I was feeling.
Elas asked if I had ever had a friend in Ljómur, but the answer was depressingly simple.
No.
My cell, A-01, was the very first. A concrete wall on one side with a solid barrier separating the adjoining cell on the other. No matter how many times my neighbor changed, one detail remained a constant.
It was always a human.
Someone who could not speak my language or comprehend my words. Someone whose eyes I couldn’t see to communicate silently, with no means to speak so they could understand.
Alone.
Always so alone.
The closest I ever came to a friend was a human female who lived beside me for years. She understood my pain and shared its crushing weight, even if we had no way to talk. On the nights I cried to myself, she’d hum or sing in soothing tones until the tears dried. She was like a bird, constantly chirping and making noise. A much-needed reminder that I wasn’t alone. On those days it was her turn to hurt, I’d sing the only lullaby I remembered from my childhood—a soft melody about a heart half empty until love fills its barren corners.
I wonder if my heart will always be half empty.
Elas, like the others, wants to ask about my mate… my lack thereof. That gaping hole in my chest they believe was once filled with the same joy they have. To them, to have a mate is to be loved, and anything else is an impossibility.
But while their tales end in sweet evenings and playful touches, mine was a different type of story altogether.
Mine was nothing short of a tragedy.
Just another lash in a life tied to a whipping post.
Light footsteps crunch in the gravel, and I blink a few times, wondering how long I’ve been lost in my memories. The same delicious scent floats closer, and I glance over my shoulder to find Reyes cautiously approaching. Sunshine bounces off his deeply tanned skin, and when he smiles, he shows all his teeth.
He’s happy.
Once, he told me he hoped the beautiful plants here could bring me happiness, and gods, how I’d wanted to believe it was possible. And when he smiled at me, for a moment Ihadbelieved it. Believed that sometime, somewhere in some distant future, I could wake up and be whole again.
