Thought

Chapter Sixteen

Word Count: 1592

~Luella

The sound of soft cries wakes me.

Blearily, I rub my eyes, forcing them open. I'm not sure what I expected to see, but it's not Della sitting beside me on her knees, head in her hands. Looking around me, I'm in my room. If my memory serves me right, I should have been waking in Thought's guest room, ready to assault him with questions about the dream he projected into my sleeping mind.

"He broke up with me," Della sobs, her frail shoulders shaking. Sitting up, I pull her into a hug. As her sister, it's my first instinct to protect her, especially against something as devastating as heartbreak. Even if her feelings were manipulated by a cruel immortal.

"Okay good," I breathe into her hair, please Thought kept his promise to end it with my sister. "He's no good for you Della. This is for the best. Now how did I get here?"

Della pulls back, wiping a streak of tears off her cheek.

"I got here not long ago and you were drooling everywhere," she tells me, motioning to my pillow. I frown, as Della comes to lie next to me in bed, leaning back my headboard. Was last night real? It feels like a distant memory now, but real. It had to be reality.

"I had the weirdest dream last night," I tell her. Now that's out of Thought's clutches, I can confide in her. "Della, what do you remember about childhood?"

"Everything bad and practically nothing good," she tells me, making my stomach flip and my heart drop. How can she think that when I only had positive memories... "Dad drinking and yelling at you all the time. I don't know how you were so positive about it the entire time. Sometimes I feel like he resented us for what happened..."

I'm out of bed in a second.

"You should go," I tell her, picking up clothing off my floor, shoving them on. Della slides off my bed, looking at me strangely. I feel bad for sending her away when she is dealing with her break up, but I need time to wrap my head around what is going on. The dream last night wasn't just a work of fiction within my mind...it's a reality.

"I was hoping we could get breakfast," Della says, her voice softening to the point it tugs it achingly at my heart. I'm the worst sister, but maybe if I'm to explain everything to her eventually, it will make this all worth it. "You know, so I could get over this break up."

"I'm sorry Della. Thought isn't good for you. He isn't good for anyone..." I tell her. Her face twists, but she walks with me to the front door regardless.

She smiles at me tightly, before leaving. I feel terrible. But I need to think.

I sit in front of my laptop, opening up my writing. My thoughts are all over the place, but one thing calls to me. My work. I'm not sure why I feel so compelled to skim through my draft, but it must have something to do with its soothing nature. No matter how I feel, I'm able to write and feel better about my life, as if I'm disappearing into someone else's life.

But I'm not. In that moment, I realise that I'm reading about my life. For the past few weeks, in the blur of writing I've been failing to remember, I've actually been writing this entire time about myself. This is why I felt compelled to look at this.

I'm the main character, and the love interest, has every resemblance to Thought. A coldness settles across my skin, as I realise what this means. The two characters are mates.

Remember, always read between the lines.

Those notes, those words from Thought. They suddenly all make sense. He has been compelling me to write these stories, trying to make me see all this time that we are mates without having to tell me directly. It makes a lot of concerns fall into place, but still leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Why couldn't he tell me in person that we are mates?