[Ghostly Kisses - Lydian🎶]
Do you know that small thoughts and worries hurt free birds? But bluebirds don't let those anxieties touch them. They know that when the time comes, they will die by the hunter's rifle anyway.
*
The moment the ghost boy vanished into the trees, Pars appeared.
He stormed toward me, his body radiating a terrifying, silent rage. I braced myself, expecting a shout, a blow, anything.
Instead, his large hand clamped around the back of my neck. Without a word, he shoved me down.
Cold water rushed into my nose and mouth as he forced my head into the pond.
Punishment.
How quickly did you forget, Alenas? They will never let you go unpunished.
The sensation of water filling my ears triggered the memories. I was back there. Hands holding my nape, pressing me into the depths, trying to drown the fight out of me.
But there was something Sarehan didn't know. Something massive. Something no one knew.
I had been held underwater hundreds of times. They wanted me to gasp, to panic, to inhale the water in my desperation for air. But eventually, my body adapted. I learned to hold my breath longer than their hate could last. They couldn't drown me.
Do you see the irony, Sarehan?
They couldn't drown me in deep waters. I voluntarily drowned myself in the tears that filled my own lungs. They never understood that I was already dead.
Suddenly, he yanked my head up. Water streamed down my face, dripping from my eyelashes. I didn't gasp. I didn't cough. I just stared at him.
Pars cupped my wet face in his hands, searching my eyes. A shadow of anxiety flickered in his green gaze before vanishing.
"You..." he whispered, genuinely surprised. "How did you do that?"
He brushed a wet strand of hair from my cheek, his thumb lingering on my skin. "And more importantly... why are your eyes so blank?"
There is an emptiness, Pars. It is a full, shattered void. It sits on my left side, a heavy, filled emptiness that hurts every time I breathe.
"Shall we go?" I asked, my voice flat.
I pulled away from his touch and stood up. He straightened, gripping my arm before I could take a step. He spun me around, forcing me to look at him.
"Are you mute?" he snapped, the anger returning. "Why don't you protest when you're hurt? Why don't you scream when you're upset? Why do you stay silent? Fuck it! Why?"
His fingers dug into my bicep, hard enough to bruise.
"Don't question me as if you actually care," I said coldly. "You give orders, I obey. That's the deal. Don't expect anything more."
I tried to wrench my arm free, but he tightened his grip.
"Why?" he demanded again.
"Because I have no strength left!" I screamed, the dam finally breaking. "I feel like if I cry until my voice is hoarse, maybe I'll forget what happened, but you..."
I poked a finger hard into his chest.
"What do you know about pain, Soldier?"
You don't know.
I have started my life over hundreds of times, and I was devastated every single time. My soul constricted, my body ached, sickness took me, and yet I continued. I consoled myself with fake love. I begged God for mercy.
Think about it... Years ago, God offended my childhood, yet I still prayed to Him. I get up, swearing it won't happen again, only to fall ten minutes later, wondering why my heart is still beating. No one asks why I stay silent. Because your words are disgusting. I don't want to pollute my black, clear mind with your dirty dreams.
He let go of my arm, only to grab my hand. He started walking, dragging me behind him toward the house.
"What happened that night?" he asked, his voice lower, almost hesitant.
Come on, Sarehan. Don't ask me that.
I didn't answer. He didn't ask again. But I didn't let go of his hand, and he didn't let go of mine.
What happened that night?
When did they load God's corpse onto my back? When did they tell me to carry it? When did my soul fall into a deep sleep amidst the heartbreak? When did we die?
I can't understand the breath I take anymore. When did I kill the people in my head? When did my mind go quiet? That hate, that grudge, that love... When did my feelings become slaves to a dead God?
Someone hold these corpses. Let the sun rise.
But time has shackled my wrists.
*
When we entered the house, Pars dropped my hand as if he had been burned. He collapsed into the single armchair in the living room, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
I turned to head upstairs.
"Next time you physically hurt anyone on my team," he said, his eyes still closed, "I'll break your hands."
I froze. Shock turned to cold fury. I spun around.
He lifted his head, opening one eye to look at me.
"You..." I gasped, incredulous. "I hate injustice! Couldn't you see that girl? She thinks her shit doesn't stink just because she's pretty and a Soldier! She crushed my hand with her boot!"
I held up my trembling hand as evidence.
"I saw it," he said calmly.
My lips quivered. I didn't know why I was shaking.
"Just because you are using me for my power, that does not make me an object," I said, my voice wavering. "I am a human being. I have a heart. I deserve respect."
"Shut up," he commanded. The power in his voice clamped my mouth shut instantly.
I glared at him, helpless, silenced by his will.
He poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle on the coffee table, unbothered.
"That girl thinks she's superior because she's beautiful," he mused, swirling the red liquid. "It has nothing to do with being a Soldier. So, Alenas..."
He took a sip, his eyes locking onto mine.
"...you might start thinking your shit doesn't stink soon. You're prettier than her, after all."
I froze.
The man of words. How do you manage to make me feel something while riddling my heart with bullets? How?
"Now, go upstairs," he said, dismissing me.
I gestured frantically to my sealed mouth. He smirked.
Bastard.
"Talk," he released the command.
"What?" I gasped, the word tumbling out. I realized what he had implied a moment ago. "Wait... what?"
"You heard me, Reverie," he said, his face brightening with a cruel amusement. "There's a party tonight. For all of you. Go and get ready."
"Is this a joke?"
"Stop questioning me and go! Tonight will be exhausting."
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart.
"Don't talk as if the sun will rise after tonight," I whispered bitterly. "Every day here is dark. Every day is night... and you know it."
I turned and started climbing the stairs. Just as I reached the top, his voice floated up to me, low and venomous.
"As long as you live, the fucking sun won't rise."
Wonderful.
Now it was my fault that the sun didn't rise. When will you people stop blaming me for everything?