The Garden of What Once Was

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

"I'll take it that your silence means you've finally given up. That's good, at least you know when to stop." Cohen stepped back with an air of superiority around him. He tilted his chin upward to the sky ever so slightly as if to put himself a little higher above Casper. "It was nice talking to you, Casper, but I have to end it here. Ember needs my help."

"And what gave you the idea that I needed help?"

Cohen's head which was once tipped toward the blue sky was now pointed toward Ember, who had made herself known by moving from where she stood hidden behind Cohen and to where Casper was. Cohen's eyes held a momentary hint of shock, but that emotion was quickly overpowered by another. Regret. This regret was subtle at first, but it soon became the only thing Cohen could feel. The more Ember looked at him with disgust, the louder one thought became. Does she hate me now? In all honesty, Cohen didn't want Ember to hate him, at least not yet. There were still so many days, hours, and minutes left until he had to destroy every last piece of their friendship. When that time came, he would be ready to come face to face with those green eyes full of disappointment and sadness. But, right now, as he silently stood there staring at her, he knew for sure that he wasn't anywhere close to being ready. He didn't want to part ways with her, not like this. As he mulled over this, his mind cleared and his heart slowed. The regret that almost made him act irrationally had left him, allowing him to meet Ember's gaze. He made sure to stare right into her eyes with a look that most would find comfort in. It was meant to imitate warmth to hide the freezing cold lingering in the grey of his eyes. For a moment, Ember faltered under his gaze. Her mind was struggling to fight his compelling gaze that seemed to make her almost forget why she was so angry with him. Murderer, that was the word Cohen used to describe Casper. This reminder made her snap out of the daze she was pulled into.

"I guess it was wrong of me to assume that you couldn't hold your own in a fight," Cohen said with a forced laugh. As he looked her over this time, he noticed that there were various red welts across her face. "You should put some ice on your face or else it's going to swell up. If you want, I can go to the nurse and get you some."

There it was again, his kindness, except Ember couldn't help but doubt him. After she heard what Cohen said to Casper, she didn't know who was the real Cohen, the one that was always nice to her or the one who called Casper a murderer without a single bit of hesitation.

"Casper, how about you go to the nurse and get me ice?" Ember suggested, softly grabbing onto his wrist to make him look at her. When she saw the glisten of tears in his eyes, she tugged him a little closer. "Cohen is wrong about you, remember that."

With that, Ember pushed Casper away with a smile. Reluctantly, he walked away, then that slow walk turned into a full-on sprint, as he realized the longer he took, the more time Cohen was going to be alone with Ember. His stomach knotted as he became quite worried that Ember may become fearful of him if Cohen decided to tell her of what happened to Amelia. If Cohen did such a thing, Casper knew that the story would become distorted to depict Casper as a monster that killed without reason. Fortunately, Ember already knew full well that Casper was no monster.

"I heard everything you said to him," Ember told Cohen as her eyes finally strayed away from Casper's back and to him.

"Look, Ember, I did it for a reason!" He let out a long sigh before clenching his jaw, then slowly opening it. "I was only keeping this to myself out of respect for Casper, but I think it's best I tell you. He killed his–..."

"I know," Ember interrupted him. "I know that he killed his sister, but that doesn't give anyone, not even you, the right to speak to him so rudely."

Because of this unforeseen dilemma, Cohen began to lose his composure. His eyes had trouble focusing on any one thing as they flitted from Ember to the ground, to the sky, to his shoes, and back to Ember again. The panic he felt was something he knew he had to suppress, but it kept getting stronger. If it went out of control, there would be hell to pay. He knew this, yet the rapid beating of his heart and the lack of steadiness in his hands didn't stop. These two reactions were a telltale sign that he was about to crack, and soon.