Tempest - Book 1

- 26 -

Night was still clinging to the sky when I awoke.

I rolled over, met with the empty expanse of the bed. I couldn't shake the dregs of the night before. I was still wearing that velvet dress, the fabric wrinkled and pressed into my skin. I looked at the black smears on the back of my hands, old makeup flaking from my eyes.

It was odd that I would've fallen asleep this way. It was terribly uncomfortable. I sat up, head drowsy and felt a discerning hesitance in my arms, my muscles screaming in anguish as I hoisted my self up. My wrists were bruised slightly, my elbows stiff from where they had been so brutishly wrenched up.

It flooded me now, the fear of seeing him standing before me. The utter shock. How had he found me?

I knew it was silly to ask such trivial questions.

My fingers twitched with a spark of energy, and I remembered how good it had felt as they ripped across his face in a knee jerk reaction to that fear. And the anger.

Who ever had stood up for me in the presence of him, I applauded her. I wished that she wouldn't hide so diligently.

Much like a ghost, he had disappeared as quickly as he had shown himself to me, vanished into the cool air with out as much as a whisper.

If I had to guess it was just before dawn, the soft cogs of the city waking to start the day. I sat on the edge of the bed, forcing my eyes to adjust to the dim capacity of the room.

The smell of him lingered through the room, catching soft whiffs at slight moments. It was nauseating. The way that he so callously invaded me. There was a feeling i found hard to quell in the pit of my stomach. It sparked from something he had said.

So mad at the world you haven't quite figured out.

My fingers curled in the blankets. He was right. I am fucking mad. At him, at the universe. At myself. I had let my naivety conquer me and that was something that I refused to accept. It was never easy being the fool.

I wretched the blanket off of me, stumbling onto my feet. In a fury I ripped the dress from my arms, leaving it in a helpless pool at my feet. I scrapped my mussed hair into a hurried ponytail, wiping sleep from my inky eyes. Fumbling in the dark bathroom I ran a soft towel under the tap. Pressing the old fabric to my eyes. My lips. After a few terse moments of scrubbing I discarded the towel on the counter, taking a shaking breath as I went.

From my bag I pulled on a creased pair of jeans and a ruffled black sweater. I removed the dainty gold jewelry from me and discarded them into the black gape of my luggage.

I felt a bitter coldness creeping over the back of my thighs, clawing at my skin. The only thought the danced across my mind was that i needed to see Jakob.

There was only dim yellow light in the halls, not even the gentle creep of air passed me. I felt a sickening wash of Deja Vu now. I pounded on his door, wincing at the crashing sound of my fist on antique wood.

"Jakob,"

I whispered loudly. I heard a soft scuffle from behind the door, and I stepped back in anticipation. The click of the knob steadied my heartbeat but the grim line of his mouth stopped it all together.

"Oh,"

He said, voice low.

"Oh?"

I said, a bubble of laughter pushing it from my mouth."

"What are you doing up so early?"

He asked, hand curled tightly on the door.

"Breakfast this morning remember?"

I replied, hands curled softly in front of me.

"Right."

He was standing defensively, door concealing most of him. I found it odd that he was dressed so formally for so early in the morning.

"Should I change?"

I asked, folding my arms in cowardice over my chest.

"That's not needed."

My eyes widened a bit.

"I was, actually on my way out."

The tone of his voice was as dangerous as the flatness behind his eyes.

"Where?"

I squeaked.

"Home."

I swallowed, hard.

"Wh-why?"

He laughed, and it shocked me. A sound so deep that it made my skin prickle with fear.

"Do you think I'm stupid? I heard you. Last night."

My mind raced with panic, trying to formulate what to say. Do.

"Please Jakob, if it's him or something he has done, we can work around it. He wont hurt you."

he shook his head, mouth turned bitterly downward.

"It's not him Yelena. It's you. I can't handle all of."

He motioned to me, fingers shaking.

"All of this."

He pressed a hard sigh.

"You're more trouble than you're worth."

Tears rimmed my eyes, blinking frequently to keep them at bay.

"I don't understand."

His hands came down hard at his sides.

"I don't understand you Yelena. You come to me telling tales of how fucking vile he treats you and then you bring him here and fuck him?"

"I didn't tel-"

"I don't want to hear an excuse because you think it will rectify your actions. This world doesn't revolve around you. The sooner you figure that the fuck out the better."

Tears cascaded down my face, eyes downcast from him. He retreated into the darkness of his room with a slam of the door, a hallowing quiet encompassing me now.