FALLEN | rowan whitethorn x oc

CHAPTER TEN - eggs, fights and hair-combs

Isabella could only see darkness. There was nothing else for her to see, only the pure eternal blackness surrounding her. From time to time, however, she could feel the ghost of cold, dead hands trailing through her body. The revolting sensation would send a shiver down her spine, and get goosebumps in her arms. She would try to get-rid-of those hands on her, desperately seeking peace, only to find out that it was all in vain. Then, she would hear a loud female scream of pain that would feel like knives in her eardrums, until all she could do was bring her hands to her ears, covering them, trying unsuccessfully to stop herself from hearing that heart-breaking shriek. But by the time her ears were covered, another, and another scream would join its singing. Three, five, eight, twelve...She couldn't count how many girls were screaming; she could only hear and suffer while tears ran down her face and her ears began to bleed.

She always woke up the moment those voices ceased their torment to cry, in unison, for help.

Isabella gasped and bolted upright. She brought a hand to her chest and felt her heart pounding exceedingly fast under her fingertips. Each inhale and exhale of breath sent her lungs in a burning circle of pain, but she willed herself to respire deeply, till her heart was no more than gently palpitating and breathing was no more than a dull ache. She slowly touched her cheeks and was not surprised to find them wet. She had doubtlessly cried in her sleep. Just like she had done for the past five days since her journey with the four fae males had begun. Isabella surveyed her surroundings, it was difficult to decipher anything in the dark but she only owned one bag –which she often used as a pillow- with all her belongings inside, and the blanket covering her body was the only thing still not packed away so there wasn't much for her to look at. There were no distractions inside her tent, nothing to make her forget, momentarily, the anguish screams in her mind.

She took one more deep lungful of air before throwing her blanket aside and walking out of her tent. She always slept with her clothes and shoes on, in case she had to run away in the middle of the night, but, lately, she had only taken advantage of sleeping all clothed when she woke up from her nightmares and went out to clear her mind and surround herself with trees and green grass. Once outside,  her eyes caught the low glowing embers of the fire in the middle of their "camp". Around the dying fire, Fenrys, Gavriel and Rowan slept profoundly on the floor with only a light blanket to protect them from the decreasing temperature of the night, while Lorcan stood watch. He barely looked at her while she walked away from the camp, only gave her a slight nod in her direction and kept doing his job as the night's guard. She didn't nod back, she could barely concentrate on taking step after step. Her body had quietly composed but her mind was still racing ahead, torturing her with reminders of her nightmare while flashes of unending darkness appeared in her sight every few seconds. She stopped moving when she was sure that her figure was covered by the trees around her, and when she was away enough that she felt like she had some privacy. In reality, their fae hearing was too good for that to be true, and she knew that even at her current distance, they could hear her, but her human mind still felt like this was private space for her to break down.

Isabella ran her hands through her loose hair. She had told herself many times to sleep with her hair braided because it would be more comfortable and easier for her that way, in case she had to run, but she had always liked to sleep with her hair loose, and she needed every bit of conformity she could grasp. Her knees gave out as soon as her feet stopped in their tracks and she managed, ungraciously, to fall on the grass with her back on a tree. Her hands had begun trembling, or maybe they had been shaking since she had woken up and she just hadn't noticed, she didn't know. Isabella put her head between her legs and took a slow, deep breath. She kept breathing in that position until her hands were still and her mind was not a spiral of dark thoughts, but rather a calmed darkness to which Isabella was more used to.

She'd had nightmares for years. She should have been used to them by now but they still unsettled her enough that she needed to take several minutes to come back to her reality. However, Isabella had realized, not long ago, that not all her nightmares were the same. Sometimes they were not so horrible she would wake up in the middle of the night, they would just be a lingering memory that would make her cry in her sleep; other times, she was able to dream tranquilly until a nightmare took form inside her mind long after dawn had settled and woke her up -allowing her to, at least, rest through the night-; but, most times, her nightmares woke her when the moon still shone brightly in the sky and the stars danced calmly in the veil of the night sky. But there was always a dark dream. Always. Regardless of its form or time.