uoıʇıɹɐdsıᗡ

ᴄɪɴQᴜᴀɴᴛᴏᴛᴛᴏ - ᴘᴀꜱᴛ

'Let go of the illusion that it could have been different.' ~ Unknown.

Valentinia:

Past (1 year and 10 months ago).

"Valentin. He knows."

My heart fluttered, like blackened butterfly's wings flickering along the inside of your arm. As if they were clawing to break out; suffocating.

I glanced down to peer at my arm, I could have swore that I saw their wings indented into the crevice of my arm. Pushing up hard against it.

However, I am sleep-deprived and anxious, therefore I shake it off. Telling myself I'm imaging it.

The frenzied actions of the wings slowly diluted, scraping almost painfully at my insides, until I felt them pool in the bottom of my myocardium.

My breaths were shallow and spluttered out my nail-biting question.

"How long?"

The pause was silently arduous.

"L'inizio," Elias mumbled, his eyes trailing the floor.

"Pardon?" I asked him to repeat. Bemusement dancing around my head.

"L'inzio." He repeated, his words now bold, but stoic.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, not quite understanding what he was saying.

"I don't understand." I replied, shaking my head from side to side in perplexity.

Composing myself, I closed the short distance between Elia and I. Taking ahold of his hands and twining them within my own.

"Elia. Please can you translate that, I'm not quite sure what you are saying?" I push softly, whilst brushing my thumb gently back and forth in a soothing manner on his palm.

His head lifted and when his eyes met mine, I stood horrified. Teardrops were flushing down his once cheerful face. They held a poignancy that pleaded for mercy.

A modern feeling filled my body, a terror I had never experienced to this intensity prior.

Witnessing Elia in this state, frightened me to the core. His face was white and blank. An expression I had never detected on his face before.

"What's wrong Elia?" I pressed, desperation lacing my words.

My hands became clammy and I felt them slowly begin to slip away from Elia's. Losing grasp of him.

However, it didn't just feel as though our hands were losing grip. But, that it was symbolising a deeper, more dreadful meaning.

My hands gripped his until they turned white in discolouration. Until my nails seeped into his flesh. But, it still felt as though they were slipping away.

It felt as though we were standing atop of a steep, sharp cliff. That I was holding onto him for dear life, but nothing was working.

He was still sliding. He was leaving me. And there was nothing I could do about it.

"The beginning." His curt words snapped me out of my trance, making me jump.

Our eyes just gazed into one another's, as if we had been compelled to do so.

His held pain and I'm sure mine did too.

"The beginning Valentinia. He's known since L'inzio." He stated, still looking me dead in the eye.