Kye

The smell of wet earth seeps in through my nose. I’m very aware I’m faceplanted into something cold and wet but I can’t even move. Every bone feels broken, every muscle mauled at each tired tendon.

I’m exhausted.

I feel like an eternity has passed and I’ve spent all of it trying to wake up from a bad dream. My memories are blurry and scattered but they leave a sour taste in my mouth.

Or maybe I just swallowed a mouthful of mud, as I realize what I’m lying in.

My eyes crack open and I’m instantly surrounded by brown, mud covering everything in my vision.

Suddenly, a stirring of softer toffee and chestnut brown catches my peripheral vision.

Rose.

Oh my God.

It’s like seeing her for the first time after a long time away.

She is covered in mud as well, caking the ends of her hair and smeared on her skin, but God, she is as beautiful as ever, her full lips parted and her chocolate brown eyes wide as she sees me.

“Kye?” her voice is almost broken. What has she been through? What have I been through? The hazy memories start forming but I push them apart a moment longer to soak her in.

“Kye.”

She’s beside me in an instant, her hands on my shoulders and arms and face, pulling me up to sit. I slip once but she has her arms around me sturdily, keeping me up and making me fall at the same time. The feel of her touch is my salvation.

I can barely speak. My voice is hoarse and dry but I manage to croak out one word of, “Rose,” before tears choke me up. I don’t know why I’m crying but something tells me that when I finally allow the memories to return, there will be a lot for me to cry for.

I hear sloshing footsteps and look up to see Aiden and Crystal standing over us. They’re staring in a mix of relief and astonishment.

“You guys,” I say, my voice cracking.

“You’re back,” Aiden sighs as Crystal pulls me into a huge bear hug, completely ignoring the mud I’m getting all over her.

My trembling, unsteady legs barely support my weight as they drag me over to a bench.

“Wha- what happened? Are you guys okay?”

Rose puts a soothing hand over mine. “We’re fine. What do you remember?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to rattle the last loose pieces out of my clouded, cluttered brain.

“It’s- it’s in fragments. Agh, I know there’s more there, but I can’t put it together yet.”

“So Kye,” Aiden says slowly. “I can imagine you want answers, but can you get through tonight just resting, not reliving it?”

I watch him curiously. Aiden is as straightforward as it gets so the fact that he’s asking this of me is disconcerting.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“A lot,” Crystal admits. “But I agree with Aiden — I know, shocker, but it does happen occasionally. You should get some rest tonight. Wash up, eat, sleep. We’ll tell you everything tomorrow, promise.”

Confused, I glance at Rose, hoping she’ll fill me in but she too nods. Eventually, I sigh, deflated and, honestly, too spent to argue.

“Okay. Alright, fine. I guess I do need a shower.”

As we start down the path, Rose reaches out for my hand and I weave our fingers together. She leans into my shoulder. And though her touch is one of the only things I’m fully aware of right now, a bad feeling gnawing in the pit of my stomach tells me that I don’t deserve to ever touch her again.

I swallow past the lump in my throat when I look at her.

Aiden and Crystal offer to get some food as Rose and I clean up.

“Do you want the shower first?” I ask, stripping out of my soaked shirt. Even the skin underneath is muddy. “I don’t want to use up all the hot water. This will definitely take me a while. Rose?”

I catch her staring at me and I raise a baffled eyebrow — I know she’s not staring at my nonexistent abs.

Her eyes are watery.

“Rose?” I ask cautiously. “Why are you looking at me like you want to cry?”

She snaps out of it, shaking her head and wiping under her eyes. “What? No, I’m not. I’m just happy you’re here.”

“Rose. What happened? Why won’t anyone tell me?”

She sniffles and places a hand on my chest. It sends a jolt through my body, and I feel the spring of my heart, the tremor in her fingers.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I’m fine, really. Go, take that shower. Leave me some soap.”

Her smile is tight and it’s hard for me to turn away, but eventually I do.

Twisting the knob for the hot water, I let the small bathroom fill up with steam before stepping into the shower. In the meantime, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, startling me with a double take. Granted, being caked in mud is not my finest hour, but God, I look absolutely awful. Aside from the obvious dirt, I look like I haven’t slept in forever, dark circles under my brown eyes. A bruise colors my jawline. Cuts and scratches in various stages of healing nick my skin every couple inches or so, the worst one being a gash in my forehead I don’t notice until I push my stringy hair out of the way. Two fresh cuts on my palm also sting pretty bad, mud gritting in the open wound. I also must have lost, like, five to ten pounds.

God, what the hell happened to me?

My gut twists: if I have injuries like these, then what happened to Rose? I think it might kill me if she’s hurt anywhere as badly as this — or at all.

With a shudder racking my body, I step into the shower, literally leaving a muddy footprint on the tile. Hot water pounds at my skin, working into my sore muscles and stiff joints. Every part of me aches. I tip my head back to let water stream off my face. Then I get to work scrubbing.

Around my third time rinsing off, I hear the bathroom door crack open. Soft footsteps patter in, and I pull the shower curtain back a bit.

“Rose?”

She’d been splashing water on her face. Her eyes are puffy, definitely like she’d been crying. I hate to think of those beautiful eyes doing that.

She spins around, rubbing her cheeks. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you. I just wanted to get the dirt off my face.”

“You could never disturb me,” I look her up and down — okay, yeah, I’m blatantly checking her out. She’s standing barefoot, her jeans discarded, in just a simple shirt that barely touches her thighs. Her hair is down. She’s substantially cleaner than I was but mud streaks her arms and neck, speckled on her calves, and dried stiff on her hair.

I add without a singular other thought, “And I could help get the dirt off the rest of you.”

Crystal and Aiden wait with takeout containers from the dining hall when Rose and I finally towel off and get dressed, coming into the room.

“Wow,” Crystal wiggles her eyebrows, amused. “You two must be dirtier than before the shower.”

“Thanks for the food,” I ignore her comment, swiping a spoon and a cup of chicken orzo soup. The hot broth tastes heavenly, dissolving in my churning stomach.

“How do you feel?” Aiden asks and I raise my eyebrows. Aiden’s a really nice guy and all, but hearing him ask me that sounds weird — I’m not Crystal. And given the nothing they tell me about what happened and how I ended up covered in mud and bruises, the question makes me worry.

Suddenly, the soup doesn’t sit right as I clear my throat. “How am I supposed to feel? You tell me.”

His gaze drops to his hands which he suddenly finds fascinating. Crystal supplies a reply instead,

“Hungry. Tired. A little sore.”

“Yes, to all of the above, and make that a lot sore. What about you guys? Are you okay?”

“Wow, don’t make it so obvious you’re asking just Rose,” Crystal laughs and I catch myself, in fact, staring at Rose, who stares into her own bowl of soup.

My face heats up, and I comb my fingers through my damp hair. “I was asking all of you; I was just looking at Rose, which is normal. Seriously, you guys, can you just tell me what’s going on? You’re all walking on eggshells around me.”

“Tomorrow,” Aiden insists. “We want you to get a decent night’s sleep first.”

“Do you seriously think I’m going to be able to sleep with the very heavy elephant in the room?”

“Yes, I seriously do. I think you’re tired enough that you’re too sleepy to be stubborn.”

I mutter a lame retort under my breath that actually makes him grin, because damn him, I am sleepy. I barely finish the soup and a few crackers before I hit the mattress totally exhausted. Only conscious of Aiden and Crystal over on the other side of the room and Rose climbing in bed next to me, as soon as I drape an arm over her, I’m out like a light.

The nightmare starts off innocently enough that I don’t realize it’s a nightmare at first. Only after a moment do I realize it isn’t a nightmare either: it’s a memory.

Vivid, striking memories colored in hazy amber and screaming red.

Memories of the tunnels, of that hell monster jumping on me. The pure fear of thinking I was about to die feels as real as the first time. Then memories of blinding red rage, of cunning bloodlust, before they fade to a dull, directionless amber.

My eyes fly open.

That was me.

The monster: it was in me, it was me. I wanted to hurt someone and I did, as my gaze falls to Aiden and Crystal, their silhouettes by the flicker of the nightlight sleeping. I had fought them, I had injured them. All of a sudden, Aiden’s busted lip makes sense because I remember the exact moment I busted it.

God, I’d been so out of control they locked me in a basement, they put a compulsion spell on me because I was dangerous.

I remember.

I remember all of it.

My hand brushes against soft skin next to me, and I shut my eyes, the next memory shattering my soul into infinite shards with no way to put it back together.

I had thrown Rose against a wall.

I get the hell out of bed. Hell: where I belong after what I did to her.

Acid rises in my throat and I barely make it in time to the bathroom to throw up my guts. My intestines must be missing by the time I sink to the tile floor, coughing and sputtering. My choked sobs mingle with the rest of the literal gut-wrenching pain.

I am a monster.

I thought Rose’s touch was my salvation? I don’t deserve to be saved. I don’t deserve to touch her, to look at her, to even speak her name ever again. How could she have let me do any of the things we did in the shower?

And Aiden and Crystal? How can they even stand to be in the same room with me? They should stay far, far away, not bring me soup.

I don’t deserve anything.

Clutching my head in my hands, I can’t stop the tears from pouring down my face. Sobs rattle my lungs and make it hard to breathe — good, I don’t deserve to breathe, save the oxygen for someone worthy. There is no redemption or return for me.