Forbidden

~Chapter Twenty-Two~

A/N: Hello, all! :-) Here it is (FINALLY: you have permission to yell at me for procrastinating), Chapter Twenty-Two. I hope you enjoy! And sorry, Kassi: I know I promised that Brock and Ethan would be in this chapter, but I got too caught up in Layla. I'm so sorry! Next chapter; I pinky swear it! :-)

This chapter is dedicated to JustCeline, who made the wondrous cover that is now the official book cover. She's an amazing cover artist! If you ever need one, go find Picturesque Cover Design in the Clubs section. She's fantastic! And I've actually just started "Teach Me How to Play," too. It's really good! :-)

And just so you know, "Fallen" is an actual novel. It's a fantastic one by Lauren Kate. But don't read it just yet: it'll ruin "Forbidden!" :-)

ENJOY! I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!

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~Chapter Twenty-Two~

           

Arabella had been sitting, unmoving, in the window seat since she had returned from River’s house, her eyes tracing the horizon over and over again. She knew that she should be at least fidgeting, trying to act human, but she couldn’t bring herself to the effort. It was easier to simply sit and stare out of the pane, her blue gaze reaching to the invisible line and back. She had deliberately tried to keep her mind blank for as long as possible, but when the first rays of light penetrated the night sky, revealing itself to the unknowing Friday, she blinked, suddenly awakening.

            All of it rushed back to her instantly: the pain in River’s eyes when he thought about his father, causing anger to rush through her veins; his anxiety and added anguish over Their dirty trick; his unexpected fascination with their appearance; the way the beating of his heart quickened—though not in total fear—when he saw the message. Arabella gulped, letting out a shaky breath, untangling herself from the zen state she had been in.

            Why did you do that? she found herself wondering fruitlessly, knowing that no one would ever respond. And…how?

            She sighed, uncurling herself from the ledge and hurriedly walking to her closet. She knew the answer to the first question: They had hoped that River would turn on Arabella and her friends, blaming them for the foreboding images. They had wanted to push him ever closer to the edge of insanity. They wanted him to join Their side. They needed him just as much as Arabella’s side did.

            She yanked open the door, the wood banging against the wall. Arabella winced. It was five A.M.; hopefully Bill and Marcia weren’t woken up by the sound. They would both be fairly irritated if that was the case. She hesitated for a moment, listening, before reaching into the fabric and rustling around for a suitable outfit.

            The second question, on the other hand, she had no answer for. River was her “ward”—she cringed, hating the sound of that word—so no one but she could get into his thoughts. There had to be an outside source, some kind of help that only a traitor could give. But who?

            Arabella sighed again, settling on skinny jeans and an Aeropostale shirt. Numbly pulling them on, she pondered her latest question.