“I want you to remember this feeling, Emilia. Because that’s all you’re going to have to live on.A memory.” He steps back, eyes burning into mine with lust and loathing. “I hope it fucking haunts you.”
He turns and walks away before I have time to respond — not that I could find the words, even if I tried. I stand alone in the dark, cold down to my bones from more than just the chilly November air.
My heart races double-speed.
My breaths are choppy pants.
My lips still tingle from an almost-kiss.
I hope it fucking haunts you.
I’m not sure how long I stand there in the dark. Long enough for my fingers to go numb inside my gloves, for my feet to start aching inside my boots, for the tip of my nose to turn red with cold.
I don’t feel any of it.
I don’t feel anything at all.
Eventually, Riggs and Galizia force me to go inside. They walk me to my rooms in silence, exchanging worried glances until I shut the door in their faces. I lock it behind me and fall into bed, lacking the energy to do more than strip off my riding boots. The silence is so crushing, I have to put on music to drown it out.
As the lyrics of ‘The Night We Met’ by Lord Huron drift down from my speakers, I feel tears gather in the corner of my eyes and know it will be a long, long time before I finally manage to fall asleep.
Just as I know, when I wake in tangled sheets in the wee hours of the night, nightmares fresh in my mind, throat raw from my screams… I’ll be alone in my room, with no strong arms to hold me or words of comfort to drive away the dark.