Byron
We sat there for a long time on the bathroom floor. At least Wilder had stopped shaking violently. Now he was just curled up in my lap, his head tucked under my chin and his eyes focussed on nothing. His magic swirled behind my solar plexus, fluttering rapidly as if it were worried. Was magic sentient? I’d have to ask Wilder when I gave it back. But for now, I’d keep it safe for him. If that’s what he needed right now, then that’s what I would do.
I brushed my hand through his hair. He seemed to like that. I didn’t know what else to do other than hold him and let him find his way back to me.
He flinched and looked up at me, his swollen eyes blinking slowly as he came back to reality.
“Hi,” I said softly.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted.
I frowned. “What for?”
“For throwing up. For getting lost and making you sit on the floor in my bathroom.”
“You don’t have to apologise, Wilder.”
His eyes turned glassy again as he looked away. “It’s all I can see now. Everything he did. The pain. The laughter. The sea of nothingness.”
Wilder jumped from my lap and threw up again. When he was done, I grabbed a wipe and cleaned his face for him. In this state, he wasn’t capable of looking after himself, but I didn’t mind. I liked that he needed me.
Silent tears rolled down his face as he lost himself in his memories again. I wiped them away for him, not wanting the evidence of his pain to stain his skin.
“He sold me,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
My hands stilled. “What?”
Wilder looked deep into my eyes. “My father. He sold me to someone so they could siphon my power. He put me in a box, and he killed me, over and over again like I was some attraction in a fair. All for my power, Byron.”
His words turned to gut-wrenching sobs, and I pulled him tight to my chest. I didn’t want him to see the fury in my face. I was going to kill Lawler Rowan. I was going to chop him up into little pieces while he watched and then I was going to find a way to curse his afterlife. That man deserved to fuckingsuffer, and I was more than happy to be the hand that served it to him.
Eventually Wilder’s sobs subsided and his breathing deepened. I lifted him from the floor and carried him to his bed. He looked so fragile as I tucked him under his covers. So fragile and small. I brushed his hair back from his eyes. He’d worn it down today and I preferred it that way. I liked the way it felt between my fingers.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. No doubt, Damyr demanding an update on the guy I was supposed to be torturing. It had been buzzing intermittently for the last hour, but I was too focused on Wilder to pay any attention to it.
I pulled it out of my pocket and saw that Damyr had texted several times. I ignored these. Reading them would only piss me off and that wouldn’t help Wilder.
Instead, I dialled my twin.
“Hi,” he said quietly. “I was about to call you.”
“I need your help.”
“Are you alright? What’s happened?” He sounded panicked and I could hear him scrambling around for something in the background.
“I’m fine, it’s Wilder. We called the Memory Wraith who gave Wilder back a load of his lost memories and now he’s having some sort of episode.”
There was a small pause before he finally said, “What do you need from me?”
I released the breath I didn’t even realise that I’d been holding. “Can you please come and sit with him? I need to do something for Damyr, and I don’t want to leave Wilder on his own.”
“Of course. Text me his address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“What do I do, Bishop? How do I help him?” I hated this. This uselessness that made my limbs feel like lead.
“Just be there for him. Hold him. Feed him and wipe his tears when he cries. If he asks for something, give it to him. He’sgoing to have to find a way to process and deal with whatever he remembers and it’s going to suck.”
I heard his keys jangle in the background, but the sound echoed like he was in a basement. He wasn’t at our apartment, that was for sure. “Where are you?”