Her Magic (New Edition)

Prologue

 "Little do you know

How I'm breakin' while you fall asleep

Little do you know

I'm still haunted by the memories."

-Little Do You Know, Alex and Sierra.

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Is this what breaking apart feels like?

Waking up, each day in the morning before the dawn breaks out, lying on the cold, hard mattress, waiting for sleep to come, begging for it, only to admit defeat  after each cry, each panic attack.

I hate her sometimes, you know, for leaving me behind, for not taking me with her. Anything would have been better, even death, than this ocean of panic, than this monstrous sea of anxiety and guilt, that I find myself drowning in each day.

Putting on the famous 'Owen Blackbourne' mask feels like a task. Pasting a fake smile was never, had never been, my style.

So, I don't get out. I stay holed up in this little office of mine, lying on the couch, surrounded by papers and official documents that need checking, but still lay bare, primarily because I lack the energy, the concentration to go through them, to find errors and correct them, or to simply approve them.

I wonder how long I need to go on, 

"A month more, just survive this month and then, things will get better, I promise." My heart whispers. Shocking indeed, that it still speaks. Either way, I don't care.

I just need to survive this month and then I can drown myself. My sorrows, I mean, into pools of assignments and tasks, and family meetings and the rest of it, forgetting all about the blonde-haired beauty who haunts my dreams, features in all of my nightmares, and is the reason for my current state. 

"You know, that won't happen. But it's cute you think so, Owen Blackbourne!"

My mind, may not believe it, but I will. For, every sinking ship needs an anchor and the thought of finally moving on, of forgetting you and letting you-and my very pained self go- is my only tether to this world, no matter how many pieces my heart breaks into, as I admit this, for the first time in my life. 

After all, how do you convince yourself that you can get better when deep down your soul knows that you deserve it?

Deserve all of this- the numbness, the hurt, the suffocation, the fear, the darkness. 

Everything.

I, Owen Blackbourne deserve everything, every ache that I am enduring today.

And, nobody can convince me otherwise.

Nobody.

*********************

Eight years earlier

"Will we make it? What do you think?" The woman asks, looking up to meet the eyes of the man beside her.

"Of course, we will, Miss. Does it look like that I have ever failed?" He hides it well, she observes, the arrogance of his eyes and the smug smirk, waiting to erupt out. 

"What do you want me to say to that, mister? Past reports mean nothing." She replies, a touch of scorn ringing in her voice before muttering under her breath, "No matter how stellar, they are!"

"Of course, whatever you say, Miss." Even her oblivious-to-social-cues brain can detect the humor in his tone, but she restrains herself, not rising to the bait, choosing to instead grace him with a heated glare.

"Now, that the lady seems to be done singing my praises, shall we move forward to survey the situation better?"

"I-singin'-gah, what? Look, Mr. Blackbourne, I don't care what has gotten into you today, but I suggest that you correct it immediately. Here I was thinking, I would be working with the Academy's legend, the man who I had heard, possessed ice for the heart and steel for eyes, and there you are flirting with me, as if-as if-"

"As if, what, Miss? As if, you are my bride? As if I want to marry you?" His voice grows darker as he proceeds, eyes shining with something much more dangerous, and silkier than before. Unexpectedly, goosebumps erupt on her tanned arms and her lips let out a shiver.  

"Wha-what are you doi-saying?"

"What do you think? I am establishing myself as the Academy's golden boy, their legend. I am proving how impeccable, how skilled I truly am."

"By cornering an innocent?" Her counter-offensive is weak and sketchy at its best and she knows that, but something inside him snaps, hearing her ask him that.

But, he does not let it reflect on his face, the perfect statue he is, as he moves forward, before bending down in one swoop and plucking off the microchip speaker he knew the goons had discreetly stuck in her hair, the moment they had entered the warehouse.

"One, you are no innocent, Miss, you are training to be an Academy Agent, after all. And second, I do, what I do, for I know, it is what the time demands, what the situation asks for. This impenetrable mask may be my trademark, but it is not my only disguise. You would do better, keeping that in mind." With that he walks away, crushing the tiny black device in one swift crush of his shoetip and, leaving her behind to gawk at him, in only what one could call, exasperated admiration.

"You are an enigma, Owen Blackbourne. And, one thing, the world is soon to find out is that, Sang Sorenson loves solving enigmas and mysteries, more so than she prefers becoming one herself."

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