Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
“My friend was abused for years by his father and uncle. I should have thought about other options, but they were evil people, and the world is better off without them,” I tell him before taking a deep breath as the sun blinds me when the road changes direction. “We’re going to visit my family, because I’ll probably never see them again.”
Sylvan chews on that for a while, his perfect doll face a mask of absolute seriousness. “I guess some people deserve to die.”
Heat buzzes in my chest when I glance his way, because this is exactly how I feel, and aren’t common values the most important thing for two people starting a relationship? I smile at him, and while his never-ending dedication to the elf prince persona is starting to be a bit concerning, he seems sensible overall. Maybe it’s… like that defense mechanism thing I’ve heard about during a talk in prison? Maybe he’s trying to deal with something traumatic that way, and if he starts feeling safe, all will return to normal? I consider my options, and when silence stretches, I clear my throat and continue, making the decision to play up to his madness. After all, whatever story he tells me will be a regurgitation of reality.
“Could you tell me more? About your family and the place you’re from?”
His frown only deepens, but he looks no less beautiful, even though his nose and cheeks are a little sunburned. “I guess we are both criminals, so why not.”
He groans and starts struggling with the lid of his pretzel-filled jar. I wish to tear it out of his hands and help him, but I can’t do that when driving. I try to think of a way to say it that won’t hurt his self-esteem.
“How about we stop here?” I ask, slowing down when I spot a bunch of empty picnic tables. As soon as we’re out, I can open the jar for him under the pretense of grabbing some snacks for myself.
I’m surprised at how intense his scowl is.
“I cannot do this anymore!”
“Do what?”
“I cannot just sit under this scorching demon of a star!” When he points to the sky, it becomes clear he means the sun. “Even this ghastly shirt didn’t help. If anything, it made my reaction worse. My arms ache from the touch of all this brightness, and I refuse to get devoured by it.”
“That’s a bit… dramatic. If you had told me at the station, we could have gotten sunscreen. Did you always get burned so easily? Are you one of those people who are allergic to the sun?” I ask, passing the picnic tables. It’s been years since I’ve been out here, but I used to spend a lot of time in these woods. I know a place that could work better.
He huffs and pokes his tiara. “I suppose you could say I’m allergic to it. But I figured I have to bear it. No point in burdening you with my inadequacy.”
“Aren’t we bonded? Didn’t you say I’ll be your companion?” I ask, increasingly frustrated.
“Dark Companion,” he corrects me as if this was the most important issue to focus on.
“Exactly. Shouldn’t you trust me? Shouldn’t you lean on me? Why would you be in pain for no reason?”
He takes his time to consider it and I can’t believe it’s so hard for him to comprehend. “I accept your argument. I will try to be more open about my struggles so that you may alleviate them if you have the means to.”
“Thank you. It will make me feel better,” I tell him and brake as we pass an old, overgrown road I still remember. I go back, and then turn between the trees, driving over weeds growing through cracks in old asphalt. The place I’m now taking Sylvan to was the perfect spot for discreet dates when I used to meet up with a guy who lived around here.
I can only hope it hasn’t lost its charm.
Chapter 9
Sylvan
We stop in front of a white building topped with a tower which has a cross on top. We’re in the middle of a forest, with pleasant shade from the dense trees around us, and the church is no doubt abandoned, going by its state and that of everything around it.
It’s similar to the place Mrs. Moor took me to when I first arrived in the human realm. The experience made me politely decline the next invitation. We don’t worship any gods in the Nightmare Realm, even if there is a sentiment of making offerings to destiny, the belief that our ancestors watch over us, or respect for the moon and its unknowable influence.
I, for one, am a man of science and believe that with enough work and research, one day we will understand all the intricacies of the world surrounding us. There are rules to everything, even if we don’t understand them.