Gifts - Soul Mates from The Unbelievables

Gifts - Chp 41

My heart aches at the idea that my sweet Lucille could possibly believe that I could murder, let alone murder her father. The idea is absurd; I could never bring harm to anyone, even my worst enemy! But I am being accused, charged almost that I murdered Roberto in cold blood out of rage, like some monstrosity. They believe I desired with such heat to remove Roberto from the situation so that I could alas forever be by the side of my love. My motive. Does she like every other resident of this village see me as such a monster? The thought of it alone had me at rest with the idea of being convicted of murder, for there to be no more Jacob Iris if I’d forever be a demon in her eyes. I was held a prison in the freezing cold prison cell, it’s winter and snow is falling here in France; blizzards are drowning our little village. My tiny dark abyss of a stone cold prison leaves my bones aching and my teeth rattling. One week in such a place is enough to destroy any soul’s hope and faith. My prayers were answered on my ninth night awaiting trial, a vision that I had tried pressuring myself to view earlier; it crept upon me in surprise and in my torn and weakened state. A man – Edmund – who Roberto had sent away for not opening his Lucille’s door in a prior letter exchanged in secret. His father Anthony had murdered Roberto in the night; a metal pole was the murder object. Anthony, desperate for Edmund to be Lucille’s desired future husband, greedy for wealth and for fame had killed the man when his back had been turned, with such cold blooded ease. I plead my case to the officer on one of his boastful visits and the murder object was found, Anthony arrested and my soul set free. My Lucille wept in my frail and weakening arms, clutching me tight in relief and misery as I cooed and vowed where my heart laid, relishing her intact adore to me and safety. The moment bitter sweet. For she had lost her father and yet she hadn’t lost me. – Jacob Iris

The low murmur of voices stirred me slowly from my sleep, it was like slow motion were truly slowly it took me to be bought back to the surface “Has she moved since?” was the first sentence I could actually cohere as my restless body woke from the deep slumber.

“No, she’s just too drained.” A soft voice answered as the second thing I could string together was the long fingers running in tendrils through my hair.

“It’ll be good for her, sleep I mean.” The voice answered back which I soon realized belonged to my brother David.

“It’d be good for you to get some sleep too.” They quipped back, the voice a soft murmur with just an edge of a husk that left my expression crease free and my body warm, Lucas.

“Like you can talk.” David chuckled ruefully.

“This is my first night of no sleep; this will be your second. In that context I’m an amateur and you’re a try hard now go get some sleep.” Lucas commanded good heartedly, that soft friendly teasing tone in his voice that I loved there.

David chuckled “Touché.” He allowed “Alright, you win. I’m going to go find a chair to crash in. You come find me as soon as any of them wake up, okay?” his question was barely just that, a question, it was rather a protective brotherly demand.

“I promise.” Lucas vowed without hesitation.

“Thanks man.” There was some slapping sound almost like someone giving a slap on the shoulder, like guys do, followed by the soft patter and slaps of feet leaving the room.

We were left with an almost gentle silence, the breathing of people and the beeping of machinery filled in the room. That hypnotic beeping back again, right where I started. The longer I listened to the torturous beep the more agitated I became, restless. I realized I wasn’t going to be falling back to sleep, to escape.

 My nose bunched up and screwed at the tickle of Lucas’ fingers stroking my face, tracing my features with adore, his heated and warm eyes upon me. My nose twitched, my eyes fluttering as I pulled them back to see Lucas sitting before me on a seat, close as he watched with close protective and possessive adore. My lips tipped and curled at the sight of him “Hi.” I breathed my voice low and throaty.