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Warning! mature scenes and graphic depictions of blood are featured in this chapter.
Flowers levitated around them, their body's laid sprawled out on the creaky wood while the night air sent chills up their spines. The candles that brightened their secluded area made their skin glow in a warm tone, making them look somewhat of an oil painting. Their hands were locked in one another's, the cold metal of his rings almost burning her tiny hand. Neither of them knew what time it was, and had lost track quite some time ago.
They were at their gazebo, which even though it technically belonged to the city again, after the one night he had rented it, it would always remain their place. Ana's place. They laid side by side on the wood flooring, staring upward as Michael levitated flowers above them, making smooth and fluent motions with his free hand.
She had been bored again, something that was beginning to become a regular occurrence, and Michael suggested that they take a walk. Memories of their first time there replayed in her mind as daisies danced above her, a blush creeping across her face. Another week had passed since her confession in the tub, the night she had tried to convince him that her happiness was truthful.
And he believed it now, and her emotions that poured from her were stronger than ever. His relationship with Miriam had patched itself up, balling it up to just forget it in the past. Ana had no objection, and she had even offered her thanks to the woman. The messages that drained her phone never ceased, especially from Garrett and Irena. It should have bothered her, but it didn't. Annoyance was all she ever felt towards the world anymore, and the only ounce of love she had was directed towards Michael.
And of course, herself. She was fucking in love with herself now.
However, despite the joy she felt, her sleep had become troublesome. Her feelings couldn't just vanish, so they made themselves known in her nightmares. She'd dream of a world of rubble, burnt to ashes and cinders while her and her lover danced among them. She dreamed of Helena and Charlie, her friends and even old family members she hadn't seen in years.
In the dream, she was a reminisce of her old self, and she could truly feel those old emotions in her brain. But when she'd wake up, face full of sweat and breathing rushed, she let a groan of annoyance and smoked a pack of cigarettes. Michael wasn't a good sleeper, so her disturbance always woke him. She never told him about her dreams though, not only for his sake, but for hers as well. Frankly, she just found them annoying.
"Ms. Mead wants you to come to church with us tomorrow." Michael spoke softly, his blonde waves messy at the sides.
The girl's eyes blinked tiredly, and her hand tightened around his. "Okay."
It was funny how quick her answer had been, considering the reluctance she had held the last time the question had been brought up. Oh, how long ago that had seemed. It felt like an old life, and she had been reincarnated into another body. A better, beautiful body.
