Red Velvet [The Boy Next Door]

Tortured Memories

For the poster of Axel to the side------->

THE BOY NEXT DOOR

Copyright © 2012 by Taina Regina

(Title and Cover may be subject to change) All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

Previously on The Boy Next Door...

Finally she saw a familiar part of the house that was his living room, and the grand staircase, when she eyed the front door and the figure that was standing tall right in front of it.

"Emmy," he said a little calmly, too calm for her to ignore. His eyes full of concern and confusion, but most of all, desperation in his black orbs as they stared at her. She paused, inches from the doorway because he was blocking her way.

"Please, let me explain." His accent seemed thicker than usual, and Ember knew if she stayed in there too long, she'd submit to his hypnotic voice.

She narrowed her eyes on him, and flicked them over to the metal handle of the door that marked her freedom. Her arms shook with anticipation and fear, knowing that she was ten steps from safety. "If you don't let me out, I'll scream," she threatened, though her voice didn't do her threat any justice, when it cracked at the end. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to pay them any heed, as she eyed the knob. "I swear to God I'll scream," she whispered, biting every word out of clenched teeth.

Axel's arms went slack beside him, and she could almost make out his wistful sigh. Slowly, he sidestepped out of the way, and the bolt clicked, letting the door swing open on its own. With one last bow, he lowered his eyes to the ground in one last farewell. Ember didn't give him so much as a glance as she raced out of there faster than she could even blink.

***

 Chapter Eight: Tortured Memories

EMBER DIDN'T MEAN to run.

But the instant feeling of what was sure to suffocate her, smothered her with insanity, she had to get out of there to prevent herself from screaming. The unbearable pain of tortured memories spewed out of her like blood from a gaping wound, waiting desperately for someone to stitch it back up. Even more so at the look on his face. She couldn't get Axel's expression out of her mind; the raw disappointment she'd seen when she'd fled from his house made devastation seem mild. Ember couldn't even remember why she ran, just that the dark memories of Axel's past controlled her. She was a puppet on a string, and the air around her livid and icy, couldn't seem to wake her up from it.  

Pressing the ball of her hand on her left eye, she strained when another migraine flooded through her, bypassing her nervous system, and setting up camp in her cerebral cortex, and back around again making its angry mark all over her brain. This time it was different. This time the pain was stronger, and the churning of power livened up her arms in a way that her brain couldn't understand. She had to brace herself on the edge of the large door that separated her from the boy who'd saved her life, and ruined it at the same time. Ember waited for the pain to surpass before she pushed off the door to collect her bearings. What few of them were left, anyway.

Looking up, she marveled at the blue light casting overhead as it marked the coming dawn. The way the different colored blues meshed with the swirl of black smog made it look like a splash of paint that had mixed with the wrong color. She wondered how long she'd been in Axel's house. A night? Two nights? Maybe a week she couldn't say. All she knew was—being outside—made her feel exposed. Though she'd been isolated between the walls of Axel's mansion, out here she felt naked, open to a world of memories that was otherwise frying her brain. The gentle breeze ruffled her light brunette hair to the side like a curtain billowing from an open window, and she had a few seconds of contemplation, before she dragged her feet off the cobblestone porch, out of the gate, and into her house.