"I think you've had enough to drink." Daniel scolded his best friend as he pulled him up from his seat.
The tavern they occupied was filled to the brim with men and drunken chatter. Liquor strong in the air.
Adam yanked his arm free, he was dizzy with liquor, his mind whirling in a drunken stupor. It had been so easy to turn to alcohol to soothe the ache in his chest. An ache that was quite simply unfamiliar to him. He was sure that he had left a trail of broken hearts behind him, though he never promised love or togetherness. He had seen women cry their upset with him and never had it left him with a constant ringing in his ears.
His head was suddenly pounding and he pushed himself toward the tavern door, exiting the building. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a split second. She haunted him! Every thing he did somehow reverted back to her.
God, it hurt! He groaned before raking an angry hand through his hair. It had been a week since he had last seen her. A week since he had last heard her voice. A week since he had last held her. "Damn it. The woman won't leave me be!" He slurred as Daniel stood off to the side, worry etched across his face.
"You're making yourself sick, " Daniel commented as Adam kneeled over and spilled his guts onto the ground below.
Adam sucked in a labored breath before casting his shadowed eyes on Daniel. "I don't know what you mean."
Daniel mussed his blonde hair and let out an exasperated sigh. "You're being foolish, Adam! Drinking away your sorrows will get you nowhere."
"Bug off, Daniel. I have no sorrows."
"You're being a bloody idiot! You're losing your mind over the girl. It's been a week! And you're still not over her. Just admit it."
Adam stood up straight, as straight as he could anyway, and groaned as the world around him spun. "What am I to admit? That I'm a jackass? That her cries ring in my ears? That the look on her face haunts me every time I close my eyes?"
Daniel sighed, "Admit that you're in love with the girl!"
Adam snorted, "I haven't known her long enough to be in love with her."
"Love has no sense of time."
"Don't start this. Take me home." He slurred. Daniel sighed but obliged his wishes, taking him home.
Adam collapsed onto his bed, sleeping off his drunken torpor.
He slept the whole night through, his legs hanging off his bed. The sun had risen and still he slept. He face buried in a pillow.
His bedroom door burst open and in the door way stood his sister. Her hand planted firmly against her protruding belly. She scrunched up her nose at the smell of alcohol wafting off of her twin brother. "Adam! You can't possibly intend on sleeping the whole day through?" She shouted as she stepped into the room and shaking him awake.
He groaned before turning on his side and pulling her into his arms. She shrieked as he squeezed her in a bear hug. "Get off me Adam! You reek of liquor!" She said as she twisted.
"It serves you right for barging into someone else's room." He said.
She slapped his hands off and stood. "You hardly ever spend night's here. And when you do there's usually something on your mind."
He sat up, running his hands through his hair. "I'm fine." She was right, of course, he hardly ever spent night's at his childhood home. He had an estate of his own.
She raised a brow.
"No you're not. I can tell when you're upset."
He stared up at his very pregnant younger sister, his mind working in reverse. "How did you forgive him?"
She furrowed her brows. "What do you mean?"
"Emile...how did you possibly forgive him for what he did to you?"
Her eyes widened and she placed both hands on her belly, rubbing it gently. "I've never really thought about it." She said her eyes hooded with deep thought. "Love and hate are one in the same...they're mirror images of the other. It can be a twisted, dark thing or it can be a sweet, predictable fable. Some times it can even be a mixture of both. Darkness. Light. Love is a contradiction. And forgiveness holds its hand."
With that she headed for the door leaving him with her ominous words. She stopped at the threshold, "Adam?"
He turned toward her.
"Whoever's won that skirt chasing heart of yours must be a wonderful girl. And that being said, I'm sure you can make whatever it is you did right. Now get out of bed and go get her."
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Dynasty was in a foul mood. She was quite simply depressed. More so than she had ever been. She sat in the library, a book in her lap, her eyes staring blankly at the bookshelf before her. Her eyes trailed lazily over the novels, examining the different covers and titles.
Her mind was blank. Her heart was beating though there was emptiness there. What was it about her that lead her to be so easily trifled with? Was the condition of her heart not important?
She had built a wall around her heart and she had thought it strong, impenetrable. For the last week she had tried to convince herself that he hadn't gotten over it. That he hadn't broken down the barrier covering her fragility. She blinked focusing on nothing in particular.
She looked down at the book in her lap. The page seemed to stare back at her. The words on the page urging her to read them. She shook off the feelings of self pity she felt and focused on the words on the page.
"Tell me, good sir, how have you stolen the heart of the innocent and felt no remorse?" The wounded woman said.
"Others like her have had warnings, events foretelling the brutality the world can cause one's heart."
"And what of those who were fooled twice, despite having been destroyed before?"
The man laughed rather boisterously, "Those, my dear girl, are the dreamers. The one's who fight the desire, the passion that sits within their soul longing for release. Do you know why that is?"
The woman shook her head no.
"It is, my fellow wounded friend, because the heart wants what it wants. And what the heart wants is love, affection...attention that will only and always be for it. We are creatures of selfish nature. Hypocrisy. Natural morality. Romanticism. A fantasy nev-
Dynasty slammed the book shut and tossed it across the room. It hit the floor with a loud thud. Her heart was pounding in her chest. How could the words on a page so mirror life itself?
She stood on shaky legs as she stared fearful of the novel on the floor. She raised a hand and placed it on her forehead before sighing. She needed to be logical. Adam was just another man. There were tons of them. Hundreds of them lined the streets of London. She did not need romance. Nor did she need anything as superficial, as fickle as love. At least that's what she told herself as she raised her chin, building her defenses once more.
*Comment, like and share! What do you think is gonna happen?*
YOU ARE READING
Purple Is The Color of Passion
Historical Fiction"You're spoiled." He snapped at her as he moved toward her, fire in his caramel colored eyes. "And you're a lecherous rake!" She snapped back just as he yanked her forward, kissing her hungrily. She melted instantly. Turning into mush as his hands t...
