Chapter Fifteen
I can count on one hand the amount of times I've woken up with the feeling of genuine terror seizing my veins.
The first time I can remember feeling that chilling numbness was when I had my first genuine nightmare. I didn't have nightmares often, but when I did, they were so vivid and realistic that I was awake and shaking with terror in an instant; but like all children when they're frightened awake by their imagination's rendering of the Bogey Monster (who, much to my mother's immense amusement, apparently took the form of Poseidon when I was younger), I ran straight into the safety of my mother's arms.
The second time, was completely and utterly Dorian's fault; he's always loved playing pranks on me, but for this one particular time, he just so happened to decide to play one after one of my training sessions with my father had ended on a particularly harrowing note.
It resulted in me sprinting through the palace invisible, screaming at the top of my lungs and confusing the hell out of both the palace staff and my parents; all who which could not see me, but knew something was wrong because of the high-pitched screams echoing through the halls after me. Once again, my mother was the one who finally managed to find me, hiding shaking in one of my many hiding spots in the library, and it was only after she reassured me that she'd beaten Dorian senseless that she finally succeeding in placating me.
But this time, the problem that was bothering me wasn't as simple as a childish nightmare or a friendly prank; this time, I didn't have my mother to run back to and reassure me that everything was alright; this time, I was all by myself, with nobody to help me to discover the solution that had been eluding me all month.
So, suffice to say, all those times in the past had nothing on the icy trepidation that seized me the moment I opened my eyes the morning after Jasmine's party.
I'm not even sure if classifying it as pure trepidation was even the right analysis of what I was feeling. A more honest, truthful description was that I was a big confused bag of twisting, oscillating, and contorting emotions; for lack of a better, less hilarious description, it was like I was a bag of jellybeans, and every time I reached into that bag, I came out with another emotion that I didn't think was possible feeling in conjunction with the big mess that I already was. Terror at the decision I knew I had to make. Apprehension at what was to follow. Sadness at the prospect of never seeing my friends ever again. Pure distress at the prospect of never returning to the Underworld ever again. And then, in a bizarrely contradicting sense to all those emotions I felt due to the decision I had to make later that day, complete embarrassment at the way I acted last night; if I was any other person, living any other life, I would probably be crawling into a cave and refusing to emerge for at least ten years, considering the monumental amount that my drunk self decided to blurt out to Eric last night (and I'm not going to lie, for a moment there, I almost did consider that). But most of all, I felt all-consuming, overwhelming confusion as I desperately tried to figure out why everything had resulted in the sprawling mess that was my life.
Letting out a long sigh, I slowly sit up in bed, groaning quietly as an ear-splitting headache explodes between my ears at that one small action. How was I supposed to choose between my friends and my family? I glance down at my phone, and it stares back at me blankly from my bedside table. For a moment, I consider just ignoring the threat my blackmailer had sent me a week ago. Even though they had threatened Jasmine's life, I hadn't heard from them since then; so how serious were they really?
But then I remember last week. I remember how close they had come to killing Jasmine while we were walking back to her car, and I remember how if it hadn't been for me, she wouldn't be sleeping peacefully in her bed on the other side of the room. Fear grips me again, this time so completely that it actually stops my breath short for several seconds. If I went back to the Underworld with my parents like I planned, then she wouldn't have me to protect her if my blackmailer really did follow up on their threat. Sure, she had Eric, the gang, and even Spencer to protect her, but they wouldn't be able to provide her the 24/7 protection I feared she would need if I left. And I knew that I would hate myself for the rest of my life if she was killed because of me.
So that takes me back to square one all over again; completing the vicious cycle that I've been through an infinite number of times almost all night.
I drop my head in my hands and scream silently. This isn't fair. How am I supposed to choose?
Maybe you don't have to. A quiet, reassuring voice speaks up in my mind, their achingly familiar voice warming me up from the inside like a hot coffee on a cold winter day. What have you always done when you are scared and uncertain of what to do?
I still, my mind racing to connect the dots. A realisation with startling clarity hits me like a bolt of lightning, and suddenly I know what I have to do.
But first, there are a few certain people I need to say goodbye to.
I jump out of bed and race over to Jasmine. She's still sound asleep, snoring softly with her arm thrown over her eyes and completely oblivious to my tiny meltdown. I hiss loudly in her ear. "Wake up."
She doesn't respond, but from the way she rolls away and very purposefully sticks her shoulder up in the air in front of my face, I know she heard me.
I try again. "Jas. Wake up."
"I will break your face if you speak again." She grumbles, her voice coming out muffled by the pillow. She pulls the covers up over her head and completely disappears from my sight. "Go away Ellie."
"I can't."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because you need to wake up." I insist, poking her shoulder to emphasize my point.
Her foot appears out from under the covers and kicks me away. "I am tired and I am hungover. So no, I don't need to wake up. I need to die in peace."
"Jas, I hate to break it to you, but if you are replying to me you are already awake."
She starts snoring obnoxiously loudly as if to prove my point wrong.
I roll my eyes in exasperation and give up on trying to wake her up nicely.
"Sorry Jas." I mutter under my breath, before fashioning a small ball out of my power and throwing it at her. It smashes into her back with such force that it blasts her covers off her and throws them over to her window seat. Jasmine yelps, instinctively curling her petite body up into a tight ball.
"What the hell Ellie?!" She wails.
"Wake up." I repeat, poking her shoulder. She groans loudly and rolls over to glare at me through her thick mane of blonde curls.
"What is wrong with you?!"
"Absolutely nothing." I blink at her innocently, tilting my head to the side. "What is wrong with you?"
"You." She retorts, her glare intensifying. "Now go away and let me hate myself in peace."
The corners of my lips twitch up into a smile. "Is this what a hangover looks like?"
Jasmine throws her pillow at me.
I duck to the side and watch it land on on my bed. I look back at her and raise my eyebrows at her. "Are you quite finished?"
"No. But I don't have enough energy to throw something else at you." She lets out a long breath, blowing a couple of strands of her hair out of her face, and gestures me forward. "Come closer so I can kick you."
"Okay." I throw on my invisibility and walk right over to her.
"Ellie!"
"Okay, I'm sorry." I chuckle, popping back into her view.
"What's gotten into you, anyway?" She asks, peering up at me suspiciously. "You're acting awfully chipper and cheery and nothing like yourself. It's freaking me out."
"Like I said. Absolutely nothing." I reply simply, hoping that she's too hungover to see through my little white lie. "Now c'mon. Get up."
"Why?" She whines.
"Because it's my last day up here," I say, and her expression softens. "And I want to spend it saying goodbye to all the people I care about instead of moping in here all day."
"Hey. I'm hungover, not moping. There's a difference." She waves her hand at me. "Ask Spencer, he'll be able to tell you."
I fold my arms over my chest and give her a look.
"Oh, don't give me that look. It's too early in the morning for you to be humble and self-righteous." I still don't say anything, my expression not budging one tiny bit, and Jasmine groans loudly in defeat. "Ugh, fine. I guess I'll come too. But if I throw up, it's totally all your fault."
"I am pretty sure it would not be all my fault."
"Okay fine. Like, ninety-eight percent your fault, and two percent tequila's fault." She rectifies, grinning when I narrow my eyes at her. "What? You are the one dragging my hungover ass out of bed so you can say goodbye to the friends you'll never ever see again."
"Wow, Jas. Thanks. Tell it to me straight, why don't you." I reply dryly.
"What can I say? I'm a bitter and twisted person when I'm hungover." She shrugs, yawning loudly. She holds up a hand. "Give me ten minutes, and I'll be ready to go."
Then she attempts to roll over into a sitting position and tumbles off the bed.
"Oh my god. It's official. I hate myself." She mumbles into the floor.
I have to walk away so she doesn't see me laughing.
True to her word, Jasmine manages to drag herself up off the floor and get ready in ten minutes. Although, when I say get ready, I really mean she threw on the Stitch onesie lying on her bedroom floor, tied her hair up in a loose bun, and made herself a grand breakfast of chocolate milk in a flask to go.
In Jasmine's words, it was an outfit "fit for anything, including my long awaited meet-cute with Zac Efron."
I then asked her who Zac Efron was and she kicked me out of the house.
Literally. I had to stand outside, in the freezing rain - a happenstance that I found incredibly ironic, considering the depressing atmosphere of the situation - for a good ten minutes while she took her sweet time talking to her parents.
Suffice to say, she got pushed into a puddle the moment she stepped foot out of the door.
The drive to The Orphanage was filled with a long, somber silence and not-so-subtle sideglances. I knew I should probably say something, but for the first time in a long time, I was at a loss for words; mainly because I was still trying to untangle everything into clear boxes so I could form a semblance of a plan, but also because I just had no idea what to say to her. Even though I'd only known her for a month, Jasmine had become the closest thing to a sister that I had ever had; how does one begin to say goodbye to someone like that, knowing that they may never see them again?
The Orphanage was unusually quiet when we arrived, but that didn't come as a surprise to me; I must have been the only person at Jasmine's house who hadn't drunk themselves into a stupor. It didn't bother me too much though; I'd already said goodbye to most people I wanted to say goodbye to yesterday, and I was only really here for one reason. And even though I'd never explicitly told Jasmine what that reason was, I knew from the way she led me through the house without asking where I wanted to go that she knew exactly what that reason was.
She finally stops outside the room Eric had trained me in, and without a word motions me in. I pause, my gaze flickering between her and the empty room several times.
"I can't see anyone Jas." I finally say, glancing back into the room one more time.
"He's in there, trust me." She rolls her eyes, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips. "He's always in there after..."
"After what?" I prompt her after she trails off. She shrugs loosely, not choosing to elaborate any further. "After what Jas?"
"Don't worry." She waves her hand dismissively, and I huff in frustration. She smiles a little, glancing down at her bare feet as she scuffs them softly over the hardwood floor. "I better leave you to it then."
She stars to walk away, but I call out, stopping her. "You're not going to say goodbye?"
Jasmine pauses, slowly turning around to face me. She tugs on a strand of her hair, winding it around her finger as she shakes her head. "No. I don't believe in goodbyes; they're too final, and they leave nothing to the imagination. I hate that."
"So don't say goodbye then." I reply quietly. A grin slowly spreads over her lips.
"You're right." She says, and dashes over to wrap her arms around me without another second to lose. I hug her back just as tightly, savouring every second of her embrace as long as I can as I try to ignore the little voice inside my head whispering, this could be the last time you see her again. Jasmine finally pulls away and winks at me, a touch of her usual cheeky bravado returning to her cheeks in the form of an impish grin. She salutes me. "I'll see you on the flip side, Ellie."
Her valediction is so bizarre that it surprises a laugh out of me. "I'm going to miss you."
"Well of course you are." She tosses her head with a cocky smirk. " It's me, duh."
Then, before I can get another word out, she sashays off in true Jasmine fashion. I shake my head, swallowing back the golf ball lodged in my throat as I turn back to the training room.
I really hope that wasn't the last time I ever see her. I don't think that goodbye was justice enough for my best friend.
I enter the training room and look around timidly, but like before, the room is completely empty. I frown, spinning around in a circle.
Where is he?
My heart stutters in my chest. Please don't tell me this was all for nothing.
Just as I'm about to give up hope, I hear a quiet noise from behind me, like a sharp inhalation of breath. "Ellie?"
I jump up about a foot in the air, and whirl around to see someone standing behind me. I'm so startled that I act without thinking; I grab their wrist, twist them around and throw them down to the ground. Then, for good measure, I place my foot on their chest and push down.
Then I realise who it is.
"Jesus Bambi!" Eric groans. "When I said come say goodbye, I didn't mean throw me to the ground like a freaking ragdoll. That's supposed to be my role."
"Eric! Oh my god!" I jump back, my eyes growing as wide as saucers. I lean down and offer him a hand up. "I didn't see you there!"
"Yeah no kidding." He grunts, grudgingly accepting my hand up. "I'm almost offended at how easily you beat me."
"I'm sorry!" I reply meekly, offering him up a weak smile. Then his words actually register in my mind, and I freeze, slowly glancing up at him. From the way his eyes widen a fraction, he seems to reach the same epiphany at the exact same time I do. "I beat you."
"Yes you did Bambi." A wide grin stretches over Eric's lips, and he holds his arms up in the air. "Am I a good teacher, or am I a good teacher? Come on, you know you want to tell me how amazing I am."
"You're amazing! I finally beat you!" I squeal, and before my brain really processes what I'm doing, I throw myself at him and wrap my arms around him in a tight hug. Eric stumbles back several steps, clearly taken by surprise, and for several terrifying seconds I don't think he's going to respond; but then he returns my embrace, slinking his arms around me and hugging me back just as tightly. I just about melt.
"Well, if this was the response I was going to get, I would have spent a lot more energy trying to develop those nymph-bashing skills of yours a long time ago." He replies, and when I pull back slightly, his eyes are twinkling mischievously.
I narrow my eyes at him, but even he knows I'm not being serious. "Thank you, Eric."
"You're welcome, Ellie." He replies with a small smile, his tone light. We're still standing mere centimeters away from each other; so close, that I can suddenly count all the turqouise flecks peppering his green eyes like hyacinths in a field. "I would suggest we celebrate, but I have the feeling that you're not here to stick around."
I swallow, lowering my gaze as I shake my head. "No."
"Hey." He tilts my chin back up with his finger, studying my expression. "Why the long face Bambi? I mean, I get that you think you're a deer, but this just seems a little extreme, even for you."
I laugh a little, despite myself. "I just... I realised yesterday that I don't want to go back. Not anymore."
"When you were less than sober, you mean?" He asks, smirking impishly. I twist my lips to the side, trying to hide a smile, and nod. "Why? Does it have anything to do with what you said yesterday?"
"That's not very specific."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you turned into a normal, talkative freak when you were drunk." He teases, and I blush slightly. "When you said that you didn't want to go back, but needed to go back, but also couldn't go back, and then refused to elaborate, all in the same breath."
"Oh." I freeze, blanching slightly. I didn't think he would remember that so precisely. "Yes."
He raises an eyebrow at my silence. "You do realise that was the perfect chance for you to clarify on your confusing conundrum, right Bambi?"
"Yes." I swallow. "But I can't."
"Why not?" He presses, sounding just as unwaveringly curious as he did last night. "Does your confusion on whether you stay or return to the Underworld have anything to do with that prophecy you mentioned?"
My eyes grow to the size of the saucers. I mentioned what?! "What prophecy?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Bambi, I know you know what I'm talking about. I can see it in your eyes." He replies, and although his voice is quiet, his tone is hard as steel. "What's so important about this prophecy that it's tying you all up in knots?"
I press my lips together, taking a small step back and ducking my head so my hair creates a shield between us. "I can't tell you Eric."
"Yeah, you keep saying that, but I don't care anymore." He retorts, folding his arms across his chest as he stares me down. "If it's got you this worried, then I want to know what it is."
"Why?"
For a brief, almost imperceptible moment, Eric falters, like he wants to say something, but a part of him doesn't want to divulge that information just yet. He plows on, acting like the words about to come out of his mouth were those that he intended in the first place, but I know better. "Because if it worries you, then it's serious enough that it'll affect me and my supers too. And that warrants me being let in on what this so-called prophecy is about."
"You're lying."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are Eric. I can see it in your eyes." I shake my head. "And even if I believed you when you said that you were not, I would still not tell you."
"Why the hell not, Bambi?" He growls, clearly frustrated with my stubbornness. "I have the right to know if it's affecting my people."
I sigh, my voice coming out barely louder than a whisper. "It's not your burden to bear."
"What?" He frowns. "What do you mean by burden?"
"Exactly what you think it means. It is my burden, and my burden alone."
"Hey." His voice softens, and when I hesitantly glance up, I'm stunned momentarily at how gentle his expression is. "You know I don't give a crap about all that, Ellie. It's stupid to think that one person should deal with something as huge as a prophecy, especially if it's legit. You can't put all that pressure on yourself."
"You don't understand, Eric. I have to."
"Why?"
"Because if I don't, then..." The words get stuck in my throat, and I catch myself before I stupidly let them loose. Maybe I was wrong; maybe it's not the alcohol that caused me to blurt everything out. It's him. I shake my head again, stubbornly rebuilding up the resolve that his unexpected kindness had punched a hole through. "It doesn't matter. I can't tell you, anyway."
"Why?"
"Because it's the only way I can protect you."
"From what?" He asks, incredulity clear in his tone.
"From me." I whisper. His eyebrows shoot up.
"No offence Bambi, but I just spent the last month easily beating you at basic self defence." He replies, a touch of bemusement in his voice. "I'm pretty sure you don't need to protect me from yourself."
"No, you don't understand Eric." I shake my head again. "I'm a dangerous person to be around."
"Pretty sure that's my line; I'm the one with the dark past, remember?" He grins slightly, but his joke is lost on me. My seriousness quickly wipes all the humor from his expression. He sighs quietly. "Ellie, c'mon, give me some credit. I've been living for thousands of years and I'm fine; hell, I even survived Hitler, and I'm ninety percent sure that dude had a vendetta against me. I highly doubt that this secret prophecy of yours is going to kill me."
No, it won't. But I will. "You don't know that."
"No. You're right, I don't." He shrugs loosely. "Which is why you need to tell me what it is exactly that's torturing you so I can definitively tell you it's not going to kill me, and thus stop that pretty little head of yours from worrying."
"I can't." I emphasize. I feel like I'm constantly repeating myself; is he not listening to anything I'm saying?
"Why not?" He asks, placing just as much emphasis on his question.
I throw my hands up in exasperation, frustration clouding my tones. "Because I'm a ticking time bomb, Eric! I am a ticking time bomb, and pretty soon, if I don't do the right thing, I'm going to kill everyone. Including our friends; including you."
The words are out of my mouth before I can really stop them, and the moment the sentences leave my lips, it feels like time stops. Suddenly the room is all too quiet; so quiet that you could hear a penny drop and think the simple sound had been amplified tenfold. The air buzzes, like it's filled with thousands of tiny, invisible bugs, all working up a frenzy, all chattering away and echoing what I'd said. I freeze on the spot; it feels like I've suddenly lost all ability to move, like my feet have been nailed to the floor and my muscles have all simultaneously seized up. Eric doesn't make a single sound for what feels like an eon. I refuse to look up and meet his eye; I'm too scared of what I'll see if I do.
"Ellie." Eric says my name gently, stepping closer, and suddenly he's flooding my entire vision. I don't miss that he's calling me Ellie, instead of Bambi. Still, I refuse to look at him. He sighs quietly, tucking his finger under my chin and lifting my gaze up to meet his. His green eyes burn, determination evident in their depths. "You're not a ticking time bomb."
"How can you say that Eric?" I whisper. "You have no idea what I'm talking about."
"Because I know you, Ellie." He replies softly, pushing my hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear. "And I know that you're beautiful, and kind, and are the most selfless person I've ever met. You are not however, a ticking time bomb, despite this whole 'harbinger of death' prophecy you've been dealt. There are ways to get around those you know, even ones that have been dealt to you by the Fates."
My breath catches in my throat, and my heart starts freaking out so much that you'd think it was trying to smash it's way out of my chest. Slowly, timidly, I glance up at him, and the look on his face just about sends my heart into cardiac arrest. I suddenly become hyper aware of how close we're standing, and how his hand is still cupping my face from earlier. I lick my suddenly very dry lips, and it takes me several goes before I'm finally able to find my voice. "Eric..."
"Yes?" He murmurs, his eyes flickering down to my lips. He takes another step forward, eliminating what minuscule space there was left between us, and my heart leaps up into my throat. My brain starts throwing up big red warning signs everywhere. Warning! Warning! This is not going to end well! You have not thought this through! WHAT ARE YOU DOING ELLIE?!
He starts leaning in. My eyes flutter shut.
"Well." A terrifyingly suddenly familiar voice drawls from behind us, and my eyes fly open. Oh god, please no. "Out of all the scenes I thought would greet me when I came up here, this was definitely the last one I would have ever expected."
"Oh, shit." Eric stares over my shoulder, his eyes wide with horror. I whirl around to see my mother leaning against the doorframe, a big fat grin on her face.
"Hello, Ellie." Evie smirks, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Did you miss me?"