Sylrie woke in a dark, cramped room with a low, slanted ceiling. After a second, she felt a hand on her shoulder, peeling back the ripped fabric of her top to examine the wounds inflicted by the whip. She squirmed away from the touch, wincing as her cuts sent another wave of pain through her body. She groaned. A hollow ringing noise filled her ears.
"It's okay," Leif whispered, his hand still on her shoulder. "It's all right. I'm here. We're at the bakery. Now, just let me see your shoulder..."
"The bakery," Sylrie whisper-shrieked, sitting bolt upright and jumping out of the soft bed she had just been lying in. "But your parents. They'll kill me! And you'll get in trouble! And..."
"Hey, hey, hey," said Leif, easing her back onto the bed. "Save your energy. I know that my parents would kill me. We're in the attic. I managed to sneak you up here. Quite a surprise, actually, considering that you were dripping blood all over the floor."
Sylrie exhaled and lay down again, fatigue seeping into her veins.
"Blood," she asked, confused. Then she remembered. "Oh. Blood."
"Yeah. Blood. Do you know where the largest cuts are?"
"I'm not sure," she replied, "but the worst pain is on my back."
"Okay then," Leif said. "Can you roll over?" Sylrie did as he asked, grimacing at the pain and fighting back tears.
"It's okay," he said, pulling her top up so he could examine the wounds. "You can let yourself be in pain. It's only me here."
Sylrie sighed and relaxed her muscles as Leif sucked the agonising pain from her tired, battered body, only having to brush his hand over a cut to make it heal. Then, sensing something, Sylrie tensed up again. She stretched her awareness out and listened to the message that the shadows were trying to tell her. Leif's hand stopped moving over her cuts, and he lifted it off her back altogether.
"Is something wrong?" he asked. "Did I hurt you?"
"No, no, not that. The shadows are trying to tell me something," she whispered.
Leif looked at her strangely.
"The shadows?"
He sounded confused. Sylrie sighed, annoyed.
"Yes, the shadows. I can control them and they can speak to me. Now, be quiet!"
She stretched out her consciousness again and saw what the shadows saw.
"Leif, the shadows can see your mother. She's walking back from the council hall and she's about two streets down, heading this way. I have to go."
She was on her feet before he could object, unlatching the small attic window. Just before she jumped out, he grabbed her wrist.
"Hey, wait. How are you going to take care of yourself? How are you going to tend to your wounds? How are you going to find food, and water? I can help you. Stay here. Please?"
She looked into Leif's questioning eyes and felt the renewed pain in her shoulder. She could only imagine how much it would hurt when he wasn't around to heal it. Also, though she really didn't want to admit it, he was kind of growing on her. He could almost be called her friend. But he wouldn't want to be her friend. Not when he discovered the truth. The truth about who she was and who she was searching for. It would make him hate her. But then, as she stared into his eyes, she really didn't care. She eased herself off the window sill, sat back down on the bed and sighed. Dropping her head into her hands, she spoke.
"Leif, I'm not like you," she said, her voice muffled by her hands.
"Not like me?" He repeated, confused. "What do you mean?"
YOU ARE READING
Everlasting
General Fiction*COMPLETED* Sylrie Noir's life was hard enough as it was. She had been orphaned and exiled as a child, and all other children who had the misfortune of meeting her had run away after a few minutes, screaming and crying. And it was all because of the...
