Lover

A Song Once Sung

Bella:

The worst part about leaving and going back to the dimension I had lived in - was the fact that I had to pretend that I didn't have a mate. That I hadn't fallen absolutely, completely in love with a man that deserved the whole world. More.

But what was also was the worst thing, something that haunted my every waking thoughts - something that was slowly killing me . . . I had to pretend that I wasn't responsible for Sylas's death. If it weren't for my foolish plan - my best friend, my brother would be alive.

I had to walk this mortal land, shifted back into my human form, pretending that I was not getting killed.

I had to weave a lie to my parents, to my family. They had been hysterical when they found me staggering up the stairs to our house. Mum had screamed and cried - all my sisters and brother-in-laws had cried. Apparently, mum called down my oldest sister, her husband and their daughter when they realised I was missing.

They instantly flew down from Sydney and helped search, but came up with nothing - as expected. When they saw me, beaten and bloody, in my leathers with whip lashes all over my neck, hands and face - they were hysterical. The ones on my face weren't deep, so they'd heal without a trace, but the ones on my neck and hands - they would stay there forever to remind me that I was the reason he was gone.

I wove a lie that a man had stealthily broken into the house and took me in my sleep - and he took me to somewhere outback, a place I couldn't remember. Because he used forms of mental torture, and I told them Sylas was there too. That's why he was missing as well.

And I was forced to watch as the man killed him.

They assumed the man had raped and beaten me, but I was too tired and weak to tell them that I didn't want that in my story. Because I felt like lying about getting raped was the worst thing you could do.

They treated me like a fragile doll, never daring to question my leathers. After a quick small fight, I convinced them to let me keep them - because I told them that Sylas was the only other person who wore leathers, and it was all I had left.

Mum had fought against keeping them, but only because she didn't want me to have anything from that place with me. But she also knew that she wouldn't win that battle.

I slept. I slept for days, refusing to get up. I had nightmares, nightmares about Sylas, nightmares about Azriel and the Inner Circle. They weren't the bad dreams.

Because the bad dreams were the memories. Because they destroyed me. Memories of Rhys and I talking, memories of Elain, Feyre, Mor and I all sitting and talking and going shopping. Memories of Cassian training me with a smirk on his face, memories of Nesta's eyes. Memories of Lucien smiling kindly at me, memories of Amren being so protective of me.

But the absolute worst, memories of Azriel and I. Of the training room where he first kissed me, of the library where he made an oath to me, of the cabin. Everything. In my dreams all my memories were haunting me.

Most nights, I would wake up feeling sick. And I would need fresh air, so I would leave my room and go out the front door, just sitting on the front balcony. Mum hated it, she had scolded me the first night, but was still gentle. I knew she was worried about my health, a sickness I didn't even have. But it was getting overbearing.

I convinced her that the gate was locked so nothing could happen, and the front door was open so I could quickly make an escape. She had argued that a locked door didn't stop him the first time.

But after a long while, she was always alert when I went out, but did not argue.

It was an escape. I sat on the couch at the front, I would pull my legs up to my chest, place my chin on knees and stare at the stars.