Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
A sudden pang hits my chest. I touch it with my fingertips. What am I missing? Why do I feel like something is so lost?
So lost.
Lost.
Lost.
I can’t find it.
I gave it away.
But what did I give?
I crumple to my knees; they hit the hard tile, making a crunching noise I know will haunt me later. One that will tell me that my knees are strained again, that my health is bad, all because of things I don’t understand and things I’ve lost but can’t find.
I quickly jump to my feet and grab a towel, washing the wetness from my face, and stare at myself one more time in the mirror. Is it normal, I wonder, to look at yourself and not see yourself? But a stranger? It’s why I’ve always avoided mirrors because it feels wrong, it feels other.
My eyes feel right, but my face feels wrong.
I’m crazy.
It’s the only reason I can’t sleep, the only reason I don’t recognize myself, and why nobody really sees me.
I hold onto the counter to keep myself from a repeat fall to the floor. My brain is dizzy again; it always gets this way when I feel sorry for myself, when I just… want.
I want love.
I want someone to hold me, but more than that, I want them to tell me to fight, but for what? What do I have to fight for?
Nobody thinks of me. Nobody cares.
I smile to myself. It’s a sad smile.
I tell myself it’s okay.
And then I walk out of the bathroom in a trance and head toward Horus, this god who doesn’t care if I live or die, this god who claims to be all of these things.
Funny how you wake up in a world that isn’t your own, only to realize that nobody is here to save you. They’re here to condemn you.
I take a deep breath and step into the living room. He’s sitting there, looking gorgeous, holding his hands together, gripping them like he’s nervous.
That makes two of us.
“I’m going to try to sleep,” I say.
He doesn’t even look over his shoulder. “Good idea.”
“Perfect,” I add. “I’m going to just take the couch.”
“No!” he barks and jumps to his feet. “You’ll take the bed; I already put on fresh sheets, come.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the way he’s looking at me is more terrifying than anything I’ve ever seen in my life—at least as far as I’m aware—so I meekly follow him into the bedroom. He has a little salt lamp next to his bed and its pinkish-orange glow beckons. The sheets are pulled back in an invitation to seek rest. Enough pillows are piled on the bed to suffocate me and ten others. And I choked up a little as I notice that he put a bottle of water on the nightstand.
“So, yeah,” he says, waving his hand in front of me. “Try to get some rest.”
“Yeah.” I nod, the tiniest bit shocked at his efforts. “I’ll do that.”
“Good.” He stands there, staring at the bed, then starts to leave, and I have no clue why I do it, but I reach out and grab his wrist.
He stills. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
He clenches his hand.
“Please,” I whisper. “Stay.”
Why do his blue eyes seem sad? He grips my forearm and turns it over as though he’s looking for something; his thumb rubs down my skin, and it burns so good I almost sigh. “I like that.”
“You shouldn’t,” he whispers.
“Can you stay?” I ask. “Can I?”
He sighs deeply. “Just don’t touch me.”
When his hand grips mine, I feel complete. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s hard to breathe as he pulls me the rest of the way into his bedroom. His bed is massive. I sit on the edge, and Horus gently pulls back the sheets and then tucks me in.
The bed dips a little as he settles next to me.
I hate that I’m upset because he stopped holding my hand. I feel empty again, sick to my stomach. I curl up on my side.
“If you could have anything,” he says quietly, “anything in the world, what would it be?”
Tears burn the backs of my eyes before I answer softly, “A friend.”
He seems to startle at that, or maybe it’s my imagination. “You don’t have friends?”
“I have me.” My voice shakes. I can’t believe I’m telling him this, but I feel out of control, and right now, I just need someone to tell me it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay. I can’t remember anything, and on top of that, I just had a traumatic experience with gods and immortals, and who the hell knows what else.
Why can’t they help me?
Suddenly frustrated, I turn around and glare at him. He’s lying next to me, peaceful. Calm. How the HELL dare he?