Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
I wish the medics could heal my mind with the same ease they’ve fixed my body…
Every night is a struggle. Now that I can sleep in comfort and I’m not permanently exhausted anymore, I find it hard to drift off, then snap out of my nightmares, wailing for the man I chased out of my new quarters right after he delivered me here.
And then I’m only able to fall asleep when I hug Lady and imagine she’s Tristan’s warm arms, which is… disturbing and embarrassing.
It’s not healthy, this obsession I still have with him. Not when he’s the reason for every traumatic experience that turned me into this nervous wreck of a human being. Not maliciously, but he did make me trust him and then left me with a psychopath who clearly enjoyed the torture he inflicted.
Instead of questioning why the letters Gloombane made me write were so very dry, he waited, waited, waited until I became an empty shell, frightened of every noise, even the ones made by rats inside the walls.
And then he just took ownership of me, as if I was a fancy symbol of power, not a person with his own wants, needs, and feelings. The worst thing about it? I’m starting to recognize the echoes of his emotions on the other end of the thread connecting our shadows.
And I hate it, because staying angry would have been easier if I sensed positive emotions. Instead, I’m flooded by melancholy almost as intense as my own. Half of me expects it to be a trick, because he can’t possibly be this upset about not seeing the wreck of a human I’ve become. My hair might have grown back, the bruises are a distant memory, but I’m just not the same.
It took me a week to be rested enough to write an actual message to Tristan, but he answered me promptly. I found out that the glass tube in the middle of the spiral staircase down to the library is not just a safety measure, but a kind of elevator for books so they don’t need to be carried up and down. Tristan and I use it to exchange letters.
The old me, the Nate who believed in love and swoony knights, would have considered our correspondence the height of romance. Now, I’m more inclined to assume he has reasons to sway me so that I can become his Dark Companion. Why he’d want one with a shadow so weak, I don’t know. I’ve done a lot of research about the topic in the past weeks, and it doesn’t make much sense.
All Tristan told me was how special I’d be as a Dark Companion, and what a gem in the crown of the palace I’d be. I now know the stories of many humans from the past who were royal Dark Companions, and many of those people met tragic ends, or led unhappy lives. Most of all, Tristan never mentioned how lending one’s shadow is a physically taxing act. I would have most definitely suffered if Gloombane ended up as the shadow wielder I was bound to. With my shadow so measly, I would probably be at the end of my rope any time he used it. And he would have drained me completely, just to freely find someone better.
I shudder, and the feather in my hand leaks ink onto the paper as I press it down too hard. I drop it to the desk, then attempt to wipe off most of the dark red fluid, but it only results in a greater mess—both on the letter and my hand. I look like I’ve gotten old blood over me…
It’s the same color as the vermin who fed on me at the tower…
I shoot up, struggling to breathe, and once again, there’s that creaking noise inside the wall. I ignore it, because otherwise I’d have to fear that those monstrous leeches have followed me all the way here.
Lady lifts her head, red eyes following my every move as the room spins around me, and I collapse, reaching for her. I need to get the blood off me, or else they’ll come for me.
My teeth clatter by the time the unnaturally big puppy crawls under my arm, whining softly. Even so young, she can sense my distress and offers comfort.
I love her so much.
She’s the only thing keeping me going in my small world of wood, paper, and dust. She’s licked tears off my face and gave me the sweetest hugs. Twice a day, I let her go down the stairs, and Tristan then takes her for walks. It’s a very strange type of shared custody that leaves me with mixed emotions.
On one hand, I don’t like when she’s away from me, but on the other, I’m happy that her world is bigger than mine. She gets to hang out with Tristan, who took care of her when I was away, and I see how much she anticipates it. So I’m happy for her. Maybe even a little jealous.