I should be terrified and surprised, but I'm not. I'm used to it now; life gives me a beautiful moment to be followed by a terrible one, so I can know life's sweetness and bitterness. Somewhere deep inside me, the fear is present, but it's not as strong as it has always been.
"Father—" I begin, but I'm quickly cut off with a hard slap across my cheek.
I have never been hit. Sure, there were times where I would be punished and scolded, but none of my parents would ever dare to raise their hands at me. It's just something that they are not fond of. The only reasons they would punish and scold me for is when I do something wrong, hide something big from them, lie or forget to do my homework.
It is always because they do not want me to think that I can get away with everything, which is a good trait in them. They spoil me, but not too much. They deprive me, but not too much. They balance my life, and for that I'm thankful.
But to have my father slapping me is surprising, painful and hurtful. From his point of view, I did something bad—something majorly and hugely bad—and that's why I understand why he did that. It is just hurting me, is all.
"Aengus!" My mother shouts, standing to her feet and rushing towards me to take me in her embrace. The lump in my throat rises more and suffocates me as my mother runs her hand up and down my back.
"How dare you hit her? Have you gone mad?" She hisses, glaring up at my father.
"Were you with a boy? A human?" My father asks, voice cold and empty, just like his eyes.
I daren't reply. I daren't even look him in the eye and confirm his question, I will not bare to. The words are on the tip of my tongue, ready to be spoken out loud, but whenever I part my lips to speak, the lump in my throat rises and blocks everything.
"Answer me!" He demands, shouting.
I whimper out in response, feeling my body shaking as I fist my mother's shirt in my palm.
"Get out, Aengus," My mother tells him quietly. "Get out!" She repeats more angrily.
Once I hear the door slamming shut, I break down. My sobs are loud and endless, heart throbbing with so much hurt and pain as my mother falls to the ground next to me.
What's hurting me is that I did nothing wrong. This village is ruled by morons and irrational minds, stupid laws that no one follows. There is nothing wrong about loving someone, I don't care if that person is human or not. Love is love, it shouldn't be discriminated and it shouldn't be defined by the kind or the sex.
Those who are obsessed with the pure blood are brain washed, lacking a character and a voice. I'm not sure if my father stands with the laws of the village or not, I don't know if he approves of them or not. He might have slapped me because I went against it, but within each reaction, there's an unknown reason.
The sweet and hushed voice of my mother's fills the room as she calms me down with her relaxing and kind words. She keeps running her hand up and down my back as she keeps kissing my forehead and telling me that she's sorry.
She is sorry because she told my father, unwillingly. I always knew that this will happen, whether it is my mother who told him or not, my father would have known anyway.
"It's okay, honey. Everything will be okay." She tells me.
When will okay ever come? I keep telling myself that everything will be okay in the end, that good things will happen. But okay never comes, and good never lasts. So I refuse to think that this is how things will be, because everything will be okay in the end indeed, and that only means that this is not the end.
After a while, my crying ends but I keep my head on my mother's chest. I have never appreciated her well enough, she has always been there for me around every corner, ready with her comfort and embrace, ready to keep me sane and to mend every piece of me without waiting for something in return.
She gives and gives without taking, and it amazes me how strong she is. The memories of my conversation with Kiara a few days ago comes back to me, and I find myself asking, "Why did you make Peter forget his love for you?"
The question surprises her, and she stops her movements for a moment but recover quickly nevertheless. "Because it wouldn't have worked."
"How did you know that?" I ask quietly, my voice coming out hoarse from the crying.
She sighs. "My mother wasn't like me, she wasn't forgiving and she never understood. She thought I brought shame and disgrace to our family, and that's why she forced me to marry Aengus. She wanted to take you out of me, only when I was five months pregnant, but Aengus didn't allow it; he told her that he will keep us safe and that no one will know. He promised me our safety and it was such a surprise."
My heart bangs in my chest for my father. "Why?"
"Because your father is never the one to make promises. He would always tell me 'be slow to promise but quick to perform.'" She answers and I don't give her a reply.
I let the words sink in, every single one of them. My father did a lot for us, sacrificed everything for us, and I never noticed it or appreciated that. I don't know how he felt when he got married to my mother. Was he in love with someone else? Did he even know my mother? Was he okay with it or was he forced into this marriage, too?
"I'm mad at him," I tell her quietly. "But I understand how he couldn't control his anger."
"He did you wrong, Tallulah," She nods. "But you can't hold this against him, he never harmed you or hurt you. This is his first mistake, and I'm sure it will be the last." She assures me.
"I know." I reply.
After a few minutes of silence, she says, "You must tell him."
"I don't know how." I reply truthfully.
"Don't be scared," She replies with a kiss to my forehead. "Be confident about what you love and what you believe in."
"Do you think he'll be against it?" I ask, fearing the answer.
"I myself was against it when you told me, there's no doubt that he will be, too." She tells me sadly.
I sit up and look at her eyes. "I cannot stand against his disapproval and objection."
"That's what you think," She smiles. "But love is blind, Tallulah. You would be surprise of what you can do to keep that love."
After another fifteen minutes, my mother kisses my forehead and gets out of the room after wishing me a good night. It's already four in the morning and I have no idea how will I manage to sleep. Yes, I'm desperate to sleep and relax my eyes, but every other cell in my body is wide awake, keeping me from sleeping.
The thoughts run wildly in my mind, giving me a headache, which makes me more tired. However, just as my eyes are about to close for an hour of sleep, something hits the window. Alerted and cautious, I walk towards it and see a small crumbled up paper. Picking it up, I notice the light weight of it before I open it.
My breath hitches in my throat when I see a tiny plastic blade, and notice the familiar handwriting in the paper; It starts sooner than you think.
I feel my heart clenching at the words and the sight of the small plastic blade. There is no way it could mean what I think it does. No one will get hurt, and no one will die.
Those two objects are like two new tons of iron being placed on my shoulder, weighing me down even more, and finally crushing my bones, turning me into nothing but dust.
For the next two hours, I pace around my room wildly like a drug addict who just spent five days without a drug. My body sweating and my hands shaking as I tug at my hair crazily with them, trying to figure out what to do.
What do I have to do?
As if suddenly, I put on my shoes and leave the house, walking frantically between the cottages and searching for the name. I don't know what will I do, but it seems like the only option in front of me now. I sigh in relief and swallow the lump in my throat when I see the name on the cottage.
Thomas Adair.
Without thinking, I walk up and knock on the door. Fuck, I'm so stupid; walking to my death with my own feet. But before I can backtrack, the door is opened and Artis' half face appears in front of me.
Once realising that it is me, she gasps and pushes me inside quickly, she keeps pushing me until we are inside what I assume is her room. I turn around and gasp as she says, "What are you doing here?"
Her face is ruined. Black and blue rings are around her swollen eyes, a deep cut is on the side of her face and a few bruises are present on her skin.
"What happened to you?" I ask, horrified.
"What are you doing here?!" She hisses angrily. "Are you fucking crazy? Why did you come here?"
"Tell me who did this to you." I demand, insisting on not telling her a thing before she tells me.
"It's Conall, who else would it be?"
"Your brother?" I drop my jaw as she nods. "Why the fuck did he do that for?"
"He always abuses me because I warned you about him." She replies coldly. "Now tell me why you're here."
How can someone hurt their sibling? How cold—hearted is he? How brutal is he?
"I want to know what he wants from me." I reply stupidly. Just saying those words out loud makes me realise how stupid and dumb I sound.
She scoffs. "He wants your death, your body on fire on the Main gate."
I swallow the lump in throat from her words. "He is not in charge here, what makes him think he can do that to me?"
"Do you think he will hesitate to tell the chieftain?" She asks, crossing her arms.
"I want him to leave me alone," I tell her, my voice cracking.
"He won't do that, Tallulah," She tells me sympathetically. "He hits me, and I'm his sister. What makes you think he will leave you alone?"
"He sent me a note now," I tell her, my eyes getting red and glossy. "He said that it will start sooner that I think, and he sent me a small blade with it. What does that mean?"
She lets out a whimper and clamps her hand over mouth. "Pure—blooded are to rise, and death is for those who are made of filth."
My eyes search between her swollen ones, desperate for an explanation other than the one that I have in mine.
"Artis?" I beg.
"Search for help, Tallulah," She says. "It's not death, it's a war."
"What war?" I plead, whining as one tear drops on my cheek.
She walks over to me, places her hand between my breasts and says, "Search for your power, the one that lies within you and around you. Do not follow, but think and believe. Fight and do not give up for injustice. It starts now, Tallulah, not soon; now."
As she walks me to the back door and I walk back to my house, I remain speechless. She is right.
It is time to fight, for real.
Hope you enjoyed the double update! Don't forget to vote and comment, I love you x