To Be Claimed

✙ Chapter 19 ✙

Hey!

Sorry for the late update! I have a busy schedule! It's a short chapter, but you've all been asking for another, so here you go! Thanks for reading!

~Lissa

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"I guess this will have to do," Ryker muttered, moving into our chosen bedroom. The house, also known as a mansion, was beautiful. When I first stepped inside, I was blown away by how clean and extraordinary the place was. The floors were marble, similar to a raven's feathers, black and shiny. The walls were a creamy color, though there were gold patterns on them that were only visible at a particular angle. Portraits of angels and famous musicians about the size of me decorated the walls. Downstairs, crystal chandeliers dangled above, providing the bright lighting. Down the hallway, I had spotted a lounge area with large, comfortable couches, plus a television that took up most of the farthest wall. And, we had stumbled up a staircase, one that consisted of a million stairs, all marble and clean. "We need to get some sleep."

"I don't think I can sleep," I responded, honestly. He turned around and looked at me with his eyebrows pinched together. "I have too many thoughts running through my head."

Most of them consisted of Ryker possibly dying, along with his brothers. Hesitantly, I approached the large bed with cream sheets and a golden, zebra bedspread. Ryker bit his bottom lip, before rummaging through his pockets. I watched until he produced an iPod, one with ear-buds dangling from it. He extended it towards me and I frowned in confusion. "If you want, you can listen to my soundtrack - music helps sometimes."

"Uh, thanks, but I don't listen to much music," I muttered, shrugging. My father used to love music, so much that he spent more time humming lyrics rather than engaging in conversations. In high school, he was a member of a band called 'Distraught' and before his parents' forced him into attending college for accounting, he was set on making music his career. At one point, my father wrote an amazing song, one that started gathering a lot of attention - a company almost signed him for it. But, then, my mother became pregnant with my brother and he decided to stay around and raise him. Slowly, Ryker shoved his iPod back into his pocket. "My father was big with music - I have a hard time enjoying it."

He tilted his head. "So, you avoid listening to it?"

"Mostly, there are just certain songs I won't listen to," I answered, exhaling loudly. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I flopped down on the bed, hearing the springs screech. "There's this one song that I can't listen to at all. I remember my teacher had Pandora playing one day while we worked on our science projects and the song came on. I-I don't really know how to explain what happened, but it was almost like a panic attack. As soon as I heard the lyrics, I couldn't breathe a-and all of my thoughts were out the door." His emerald eyes stayed focused on me as I explained. "Um, I ran out of the classroom to the restroom and stayed in there for the rest of the hour."

There was a long moment of silence. "What song?"

"Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls," I said, quietly. "It was my father's favorite song - and it was the last song that played at his funeral."

He licked his bottom lip. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"There's that word again - 'sorry'," I responded, blinking away the tears. "I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of hearing you say it."

"I only say it when I mean it."

"I would hope so," I muttered, forcing a grin. We stared at each other for a long moment, before my mind flashed back to the cabin. Or, more specifically, when he was weak and didn't know what he was saying. "How about you? Your father?" He stiffened, his arm muscles tightening. Every emotion on his face drained, causing him to appear pale. He started fidgeting with his headphones dangling out of his pocket, glancing around for an escape of the conversation. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine."