Bound By Blood: (The Betrayed Series Book 2) (29 page)

I
AM ENGULFED BY DARKNESS
and silence, my old friends. Places where there are no voices, an absence of light. The torturous cries that echo inside my mind are the only things keeping me company. It’s like a cancer that grows, eating away everything you once knew about yourself. I used to be scared of the shadows, of the darkness inside me. Afraid of what it might bring, of what I might see. Now, I find nothing but solace in the darkness, a welcomed respite from the awful reality my life has become. I’d pray, ask God to help me, but what would be the point? What good would it do when the only answer I would receive is his silence?

Groggily, I pry my eyes open one at a time. The hazy room in front of me is a giant blur. It’s not a room I’m familiar with, not that I care. Pressure builds behind my blurry eyes. The aching heart I once had is now shattered into millions of pieces, each shard puncturing me, the blood seeping into all of the crevices, drowning me slowly. My stomach hardens as a wave of dizziness washes over me. Spots pulse behind my eyes as the blessed numbness comes again. My friend, the darkness, beckons me, welcoming me with open arms.

A pair of violet eyes flash in the distance, too small to be an adult but not those of an infant, either. Those eyes . . . they’re bright with intelligence. The shards in my chest pulse, aching with each thud. The eyes move farther away, floating off into the distance. Panic races through me, spreading like wildfire. I don’t know why, but I don’t want to lose them.

“Wait!” I call out.

The eyes move quicker, gaining distance. My feet start pounding in the darkness, chasing the small violet eyes. Hot, wet tears stream down my face as I pant breathlessly, running faster and faster. Yet, no matter how fast I run through the darkness, the eyes only move farther and farther away. As I continue my pursuit of the hauntingly familiar violet gaze, it stops. My body takes pause, halting where it stands.

Willing myself to move forward, I try with all of my might, but I’m struck with terror and fear as I peer down at my feet. The darkness subsides, revealing a never-ending expanse of quicksand. Struggling, I wiggle to and fro, trying my best to get out of the heavy sand that’s pulling me deeper and deeper, the violet hue never once leaving my sight.

Rich violet catches my eye as it moves out of the shadows. Forgetting my struggles, I look up as the sand consumes me. It pulses, pulling me under so that only my eyes and nose remain above ground. A little girl steps out from beneath the shadows. Her hair is the color of cinnamon, and she has eyes like her father. The face of an angel—a perfect mixture of both Alex and myself. She has my heart-shaped face and delicate mouth, and his long and slender nose. She’s Violet . . . My Violet. The broken shards of my heart thud, sliding deeper into the fissures of my soul. Gasping, my eyes grow enormously wide as I watch my daughter stretch her slender arm toward me, but it’s too late. The sand drags me further into the blackness where silence awaits me.

This is my agony, the torture I must face for all of eternity, forever chasing the violet-eyed girl that will never be.

My body crumples in on itself, dying a little more each time the blessed numbness takes me. But like a drug addict, I cannot give up my addiction. She is my vice.

It is my only way to see her or what I imagine she would have been. Sluggishly, I pry my eyes open, glancing around the tiny room. Blinking several times, the room becomes a bit less hazy. There’s no mattress or bucket in this one. I’m lying on a concrete floor, like the worthless object my mother treats me as.

Wrapping my arms around my core, I hug myself tightly. Hot fragments of betrayal plague my body, mind, and soul. My mental anguish is too much to bear as my mother’s betrayal continues to rock my mind. Pain slashes, shredding my insides into tiny ribbons. Thoughts of death enter my mind, each one a welcome respite from reality. If only God would answer my prayer or the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I’d gladly pass from this life into the next just to join my beloved Violet to hold her and cradle her tiny body for even a moment. To do all of those things a mother is supposed to do with a child: brush her hair before bedtime, read her a story, learn her favorite food, teach her to read, her first crush, her wedding day. A painful tightness constricts my throat as I attempt to drag in a breath. How am I expected to live in this life? To continue on as if nothing has happened?

Tears fall from my eyes like silent raindrops. The incessant throbbing in my head forces me to close my eyes, seeking the blessed numbness once again. The scenery is different this time. Tranquil silence surrounds me as I watch the waves crash on the shore. I feel his presence long before he speaks. The warmth from his skin radiates, filling some of the emptiness inside of me.

My gaze never leaves the crashing waves. I can’t look at him. He can’t see the wet eyes and my tear-stained face. I’m afraid to look . . . to see what lies in the depths of his violet irises. Because one look into mine and he will know. He’ll see . . . see that I failed. Both of them.

I couldn’t protect her. It’s my fault. Thickness fills my throat as I choke on a sob. Pressing my cheeks into my hands, I let them come. The overwhelming grief never ceases, shredding my insides like a cancerous tumor.

His body meshes to mine, melding together like two pieces of clay in a sculptor’s hand. Strong arms bound around me, encapsulating me in his affection. Breathing deeply, I pull in lungfuls of lavender and sandalwood. His scent soothes the broken edges of my soul. Hot breath rushes across my ear. The warmth creates a delicious shiver that races along my spine.

“Why are you crying, Goddess?” My body quavers as the deep timbre of his voice reverberates, hitting each of my cells. The tiny shards of my heart pulsate, throbbing out of control with his nearness.

Remaining quiet, I shake my head. Squeezing me tighter, his breath brushes over my ear again. His voice is pained and full of sadness. “Goddess, you know how I hate to see you cry.”

His words only serve to make the raindrops falling from my eyes come faster. A violent storm brews on the shore, one that I desperately wish to keep from him. Releasing me, he moves around, crouching down in front of me.

I press my cheeks into my hands tighter, further shielding my face from view. Unyielding hands cover my slim wrists, giving them a small tug. Holding steadfast, I keep my face sealed from view.

“Look at me, Goddess.”

I shake my head again.

His tone is softer, gentler this time. “Baby, look at me. Please.”

My breath hitches in my chest. The love and affection in his voice are plain as day. Speaking through my hands, my voice cracks and is muffled as I say, “I can’t.”

“Why can’t you look at me, Goddess?”

“Because you will see . . .” I can’t finish my sentence. It falls flat as the pain hits me square in the gut.

“See what, baby?”

“I-I can’t, Alex. You’ll hate me. I hate me,” I cry. The silent raindrops continue to fall.

“Kai, do you remember what I once told you?”

“N-No.” My voice trembles.

“It’s you and me no matter what. There is nothing you can say that will change that.” The conviction in his voice sends another painful shard lancing through me. I don’t deserve him. I tell him so.

“That’s nonsense. We’re both broken. You know that. We soothe each other’s broken edges. Now let me look at that gorgeous face. Tell me what’s bothering you and let me kiss away the tears, Goddess.” He tugs on my wrists, and this time, I let them fall.

I’m met with his vibrant, piercing violet eyes. It steals my breath and punctures the remains of my heart. Looking upon his handsome face, it hits me. Loss, overwhelming loss, our loss, and he doesn’t even know. A deep sorrow fills me to the depths of my soul because of what he will never experience because of me.

He searches my eyes for a moment before leaning in and slanting his lips over mine. It’s a kiss full of passion and life, vitality. One meant to remind you of what life is worth living for. Threading his hands in my hair, he moves his lips over mine sensually. His tongue darts out of his mouth, teasing the corners of my lips. They part on a breathy sigh as he enters with languorous sweeping motions, his flavor bursting on my tongue.

His tongue slowly retreats, his teeth gently gliding along my lower lip. Pulling back, he places three swift kisses on my lips before resting his forehead on mine. With my head still firmly clasped between his hands, he closes his eyes and whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

Unable to control the sorrow and grief of my turbulent emotions, a sob escapes. His eyes fly open and begin searching my face.

“Tell me, Goddess.” His tone is filled with concern.

“P-Promise you won’t hate me? I-I don’t think I could stand it,” I beg.

“Never,” he breathes out.

“She died, Alex, and it was all my fault. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect her. If I had known sooner, maybe I could have done something, but . . . I just couldn’t. I couldn’t. You have to understand.” I grasp his shirt, pulling like a madwoman, raving and ranting like a lunatic.

His brow scrunches in confusion. “Who died, love?”

“Our child, Alex. I killed our child.” He shakes his head vigorously, his eyes bright with understanding. When he speaks, his tone is gentle and firm at the same time.

“You did not kill our child, Kylee. Your mother did.” My irises grow wide with shock. He knows? But . . . how?

“H-How could you possibly know about the pregnancy? Or what happened?” I ask, confusion lacing my voice. He taps my forehead. Recognition slams into me like a wrecking ball. The silent raindrops start falling again. With the tips of his fingers, he swipes them away.

“It shouldn’t hurt that this isn’t real. That you’re not real. But it’s all too much, Alex. I’m not strong enough. I can’t . . . I can’t do this. I want to curl up into a ball and die. No one will even miss me. The pain, it’s too much. It hurts too much. She’s gone, you’re gone, and I can’t be here. I just want to die.”

The pain inscribed on his features at that moment would rival any torture my mother could dish out. His hands slip to my shoulders where he gives me a little shake.

His voice is furious as he says, “Do not ever say that! I need you! There are so many people that need you . . .” He whispers the last words into my hair.

“I feel your pain, Goddess. I’m with you always, in here”—he touches my forehead—“and here . . .” He places a hand over my heart. “Promise me you won’t give up, my love. Promise me. We will be together soon.”

The pain in his voice is my undoing. Closing my eyes, I breathe in his scent, etching it into my psyche. With my eyes firmly shut, I whisper, “I promise.” Opening my eyes, I blink the grogginess away. I’m back on the concrete floor, my only company the dull pain in my abdomen, the silent reminder that my mother ripped the unborn child from my womb.

How could she be so cruel? Shouldn’t a mother comfort her daughter in a time like this? Hold her hand? Make her feel better? Tell her everything is going to be all right? Instead, she turned herself into a victim and decided that I wasn’t worthy. That I was to be no more than a broodmare.

The skin on my face heats, mottling with color. Loud breaths rush in and out with each exhale. My teeth gnash against one another. The skin on my face stretches into a snarl each time I think of my mother’s betrayal. Deep-seated hatred grows, filling all of the cracks and crevices, replacing the shards of my broken heart.

Retribution. I want retribution. Vengeance for what was done. With each moment that passes, my thirst for vengeance grows, turning into a blood lust, and dousing the raging fire inside of me. A thirst so impassioned, it’s inhuman.

My eyes grow heavy, the restless dreams calling to me yet again. Dreams of retribution and vengeance for a life that’s been ripped from my very hands, stolen, without a care as to whom it might affect. Embracing the woman within, the fierce tigress, I allow the darkness to engulf me, welcoming the solace, the silence, biding my time until the day arrives when I can kill the woman who gave me life . . . and stole my reason for existence.