FORMERLY V D' YAVOL.
For as long as she can remember, Dream has been... dreaming. Very vividly. She saw how her childhood dog died two days before he actually did, so she had plenty of time to prepare herself-her words. She's been to plenty psycholo...
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My hand trembled as I grasped the glass filled half way with my poison. I brought it to my lips, ignoring the slight nip the glass gave to my bottom teeth as I threw the toxic, translucent vodka back. It burned as it trickled down my throat and with the back of my hand, I wiped my mouth clean.
I stared out in front of myself, the mirror that sat in front of me across the room showed a man. A pale, sickly looking man. It looked as if I hadn't slept nor eaten in weeks, and I hated that my condition showed on my face as clearly as it did.
I glared at my reflection. The hair atop my head was pulled back tightly, yet a dark curl hung loosely between my eyes and no matter how much I tried to smooth it back, it always found its way back to its spot. My eyes stared lifelessly back at me, and if I weren't looking at myself, i would've never known that I was crying. Tears rolled down pale, clear cheeks and dripped onto my white button down, clearly grey spots as they sunk through the material, and wet my skin.
My shoulders hunched forward as caramel coloured eyes filled my mind, dainty fingers and a smile that would even cure the devil of his sins. I heaved as my mind forced me to think of what could be happening to my Dream.
I was never one for crying. It solved nothing. Fuck-all. A waste of time.
Yet as I sat here mindlessly, woman-less and worried out of my goddamn mind, I sobbed until my throat hurt. My chest cracked open and decades of pushed down and ignored feelings poured out of my eyes and into my tattooed palms.
Without her, I have nothing.
In the empty silence of our home, I could vaguely hear her sweet, heavenly laughter as she teased Lillith, who then chased her through the house. She dashed up the stairs, soft, delicate brown locks of perfect hair whipped behind her.
In the empty silence of our green, fluorescing garden, I could her her scream out as Alexander pushed her into the pool, and then his groan of protest as she ran after him, jumped on his back and successfully wet him to the bone. Then, she'd come stalking towards me, skin beautiful and body sent from God.
But I would not protest.
Because the face she makes when she wettens me was something childlike. Childlike joy.
I'm grieving a living woman.
The glass flew through the air and shattered the man in the mirror. Next went the full bottle of premium Russian vodka. Yet this time it shattered no further than in my hand. Glass shattered and embedded themselves into my hands yet all pain I could feel was that of my missing Dream.
It has been a week and four days since she was taken from the woods. From her home. From me.
I didn't want to chase her. I didn't know Alexei had escaped the house. I didn't know he had people waiting for him in the woods. I didn't know.
I didn't fucking know.
A crackling sob left my throat. Blunt nails dug into the skin of my scalp, my voice sounding foreign to myself. I bent forward as I heaved, the panic attack clawing at my chest, fighting to break free.
I attempted to stand, but my legs buckled out from under me and I blamed it on me not consuming anything but vodka for the last week and four days.
I smoked a cigarette every now and then, though.
An immediate, painful rush of demonic rage whipped through my veins before I could even register it properly. I was pushed forward as I cleaned over the table, staring down at shaking hands and shattered glass.
Then, an animal type of ferality creaked over my aching bones. The brown rectangular table flew across the room, and then the ceiling to floor mirror followed it. Glass went everywhere, coating me in tiny, reflections of me.
My fist connected with the wall.
Over and over until I could feel my knuckles break.
The only word that filled my brain was Dream. Her face. Her hair. Her sweet, precious laugh. Her intoxicating mind. The way she touches me, the way she looks at me, how she says my goddamned name. How she smiles everytime she sees me. Her blushign cheeks. Her being.
Suddenly, I couldn't punch anymore. I backed away, heaving, bleeding and in pain. And cocked my head.
I punched through the fucking cement wall.
There was a piercing silence around me as I stared down at my bleeding, throbbing and shattered hand.
And then the crying continued.
Yet this time, it wasn't angry tears. It was the type of crying that you did after you find out your two year long boyfriend cheated on you. Or a childhood pet dies. The pain was indescribable, and it shattered every part of my body.
Suddenly, a pair of soft, thin arms captured me. I recognised the perfume of MK immediately, and sure enough, my vision filled with soft blonde hair, "I know, K. I know. It's okay, my boy. I'm here," she whispered, her hand smoothing over the top of my head.
Then, I felt another pair of arms. And a different perfume. Katerina's black hair filled my vision, and my two sisters held me as I sunk to the floor. I cried into MK's shoulder, whilst Katerina pulled my hair free of the hair tie, and brushed her fingers through it. MK's rocked me back and forth as she always did when we were younger and mama and papa were in the living room, either fucking or fighting.
Katerina was never one for physical touch, yet she was always by my side first and hugging me when I was crying.
"We're gonna find her," Katerina said behind me, "we're gonna find her, and we're going to help her out. Whatever she needs. Whatever you need."
"Yeah," MK agreed softly, "and you two will live happily ever after, and-"
"Pakhan!"
I froze at the fervent scream that came from downstairs. My sister's released me immediately, and I simply looked at both of them, and then jolted to my feet. I threw the door open, pushed the messy black strands behind my ears, and then rushed down the stairs.
"Alexander?" I called, and spotted him in the library. As soon as I entered the room, he handed me a piece of paper.
On it was a list of coordinates.
Of where my girl could be.
"Okay," I whispered, turning to the large group of soldiers he had called in prior. I cleared my throat, tucked my shirt in as best as I could, and remembered who the fuck I was. "there was six coordinates on this paper. Six places my woman could be. We don't have a lot of men left, some either killed themselves or ran away. But that is the least of my worries. I will get more men, and we will find my woman. Am I clear?" A chorus of, "Yes sir!"
"Brilliant," I turned to Alexander, "get the Rossi brothers on the phone in my office,"
x X x
OH HEY LOL
okay, I'm back forreal this time.
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