Hello my darling Otherbeasts! This here is a sneak peek at the prologue to the novel I am currently working on. Enjoy!
And Happy Wednesday (Hump Day)!
It wasn't until March that I witnessed her verbal castration to
the man I thought I loved. She reminded him that he was an absolutely
worthless human being, that no one would ever love him, and that his
father hated him. She backed it up with the fact that his father had
told her so himself. I looked over at him and could see tears brimming
in his eyes; my heart hurt for him. Her wild blond hair in a fury
around her face as her seething green eyes burned into him, she cursed
twice, and I noticed instant remorse – or was it anguish? I jumped when
she screamed at him, "What the fuck kind of person ARE you?" I looked
back to him, he had curled up on himself, into the fetal position, pulling his knees to his
chest and was toying with the butt of an extinguished cigarette.
I jumped again, startled by her piercing voice, "LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M
SPEAKING TO YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT." I saw disgust in her expression and
she shook her head as if she was trying to dismiss the thoughts. I
watched her stand up. I could see anger wracking her body, making her
hands quiver and tremble. Her lips had pressed tightly closed, making
thin pale, pink lines. I could see she was struggling for self control. I
was so bewildered that I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I felt like
iron manacles had locked me into place and a ball-gag had been shoved in
my mouth and down my gullet.
I looked back at him
again, his eyes crawled up from the floor guiltily like a small child
receiving a harsh reprimand after stealing a piece of candy from the
grocery store. I could see that he was wounded, something inside of him
was screaming with anguish; it hurt my heart to look at him. She was
right, his father had never loved him. I could see the pain from her
words etched into his face, drudging up painful, unpleasant memories. I
felt so sorry for him – he looked so much like a small child in that
moment. My thoughts wandered to her. How she must be feeling – used,
abused, manipulated – my heart twisted again, this one a little more
painful, how could he have done that to her? Anger seethed in my jaw and
caused the muscles to involuntarily clench. I looked up at her, her
silvery green eyes already on my face. I locked gazes with the wild,
wounded woman that I loved more than life itself. She was the reasoning
voice in my head, my constant companion, my guardian – I had come to
depend on her so much. She spoke to me, pleading, “Come with me,” her
fierce green eyes burned into mine.
How I wanted to leave and go
with her! Those manacles tightened around my body, making movement
impossible. The lump had begun to lodge itself in my throat; I was
fighting against it – he couldn't see what this was doing to me; I
wouldn't let him see it. I mustered all my strength and it was only
just enough to stand from my seat on the couch. She embraced me with a
silent request in her tight bear hug; I wish I could have held on
longer, tighter, so that she would have had to drag me out of there. My
best friend, my sister – the only thing I knew of one - my soul mate.
Her hug changed and it held finality. It was a goodbye. I felt her give
up and release me. My soul wanted to scream for her before she had even
left - wanted to demand that she pick me up and carry me out of that
place because I didn't have the strength or courage to walk out on my
own – wanted to tell her that I needed her so very much... but it all
stuck in my throat, like someone had wrapped a hand around it, and the
only sound that escaped was a croak. I knew she was thinking that she
had just wasted a year on me. I never felt hate from her though – only
regret; only pity. I could feel her anger still shooting daggers into
She was trembling, the adrenaline coursing through her
veins – her mind was made up – as well as I knew her - I knew that she
had made a decision. I could see her etching meaningful thoughts behind
her eyes. Her jade irises locked with my chocolate ones, a softer look –
she was making sure I wouldn't forget her, that I wouldn't forget the
friendship; I lost myself again. She tore her gaze away, altering it
now and piercing him with hard emerald jewels – making sure that he
wouldn't ever be free from the guilt for what he had done to her. I
watched her break eye contact and turn on her heel to walk out. How I
admired her, I was falling to pieces and she hadn't even shed a tear.
was the hardest full moon I ever had. I went for a walk that night,
claiming I needed to get some fresh air and when I was out in the middle
of our old field, my knees buckled and I collapsed onto the wet, grassy
ground. I stared up at the cruel moon and howled – the pain of loss
wracking my body and choking off the howl into guttural sobs of anguish.
I clutched at the grass and cried into the damp earth. I must've fallen
asleep because when I opened my eyes, the moon was at a different
position in the sky. No one had come looking for me. I dragged myself
back to my apartment, back to an empty bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
I awoke the next morning only to feel that icy dagger of absence lodge
in my heart. It wasn't getting better. It wasn't ever going to. Not
until she was back in my life.
Until Next Time,