Unnatural Instinct: Wish

No matter what, you can’t stop thinking about him—and it sucks. Why can’t you forget? There’s a small hole in your chest that you just can’t seem to fill, no matter how happy you feel with your family. You miss him. Worse—you worry about him.

Despite the company I keep, I’m lonely. You, above all, understand that, don’t you?

You wipe away the tears from your cheeks. Though he’s let you go, he hasn’t truly released you. Your heart is not completely yours—and it hurts. Standing from your bed, you walk over to your little bookshelf. Though it’s only late afternoon, it’s gloomy in the garage-turned-bedroom of your brother’s house.

You stare at your books. Mostly fantasy. Some romance. A few horror. During the move you didn’t have the heart to throw it away, much less destroy it. Ever since your return, your mind has been upon it. How couldn’t it be? How could someone like the Dark Prince not leave a lasting impression that you’ll wear like a scar for the rest of your life?

You bite your lip. Ruminating isn’t going to make things better. Seeing him again will only make things worse. Nevertheless, you push your books aside, reaching in behind them to a tall, high corner that your nieces and nephews can’t reach.

It seems to weigh extra heavy in your hand as you pull it out. Your heart races as you gaze at the cover. You open the book and flick through the pages but you can’t find the mysterious picture.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you go through it page after page, until the sun sets completely and you switch on the light. You’ve reached the end of the book. Nothing. It’s nowhere to be found. What does it mean? You smooth your fingers down the spine as you try to remember his face, his beauty, the feel of his presence.

Already he’s fading.

You want to see him again. You can feel the desperation rising in the pit of your stomach. Countless days have passed since your strange encounter and the ache is getting worse and worse. Like a craving. Like an addiction.

All you need do is wish it.

You remember the last time you saw him, marching across the room, hunched over in defeat as he exited through the door. You wish you could see his smile again. It hurts to think of it.

No matter how much you ache to see him again, you don’t dare say the words. You might be a romantic but you’re not a fool. And even as you think it, you begin to wonder if it all really was a figment of your imagination. You were in a coma for three whole months. What if it was all just a major trick of your brain? A small stroke perhaps. Maybe he really is completely made up. Realistically that would be most likely.

You belong here with me. Since the moment you read the first page and imagined me.

With a sigh, you get up and slot the book safely back into its place at the back of your shelf.

It’s still early but you’re strangely tired. After dinner, you say goodnight to Allan and the rest, Lilly giving you a kiss on the cheek.

‘If I don’t see you, good luck for tomorrow,’ Allan tells you.

You grin. You’ve signed up to the local college and it’s your first class—Legal Studies. As you close the door behind you, you can’t help but feel excited at the prospect of a new beginning. Ever since you’ve come back you’ve been eager to take on something new. You’re not useless and you’re very much loved and you will carve a decent way through life.

You switch off the light and climb into bed. As you endure the tangle of sorrow and excitement in the darkness of your room, your eyes gravitate towards the bookshelf. You try to pull them away—you really should be focused on tomorrow—but your eyes won’t obey.

You shut them, only to open them again. The urge to get up and flick through the book’s pages one more time almost drives you to your feet. But you resist.

Shutting your eyes, you keep them closed.

The mountains rear above, as startling and forbidding as ever. The cool breeze is so real against the back of your neck you shiver. The hardness of the railing bites into your hands as you grip it tightly. And when you look down, the water in the marshes glimmers in the bright light of the full moon like a spider’s web. You’ve forgotten how real everything is, for seemingly just a dream.

You step back, looking down at the familiar pink dress you’re wearing. The last time you saw it, it had been ripped to shreds by those goblins. Your white heels clatter against the balcony as you turn to look behind you, feeling a presence. One that sends your heart racing.

You stare at him as he stands in the moonlight, his hair gleaming brightly, his startling angular face looking more beautiful than you remember. It is shocking and saddening how quickly his features have faded from your memory. You didn’t realise just how much. He’s wearing the same black jacket and pants and high boots you first met him in. He’s looking so incredible it sends a tingle up your spine.

Motionless and silent, you gaze at him, drinking him in, feeling equal measures of dread and hope. You try to gauge his expression. Is he angry? Is he upset? It’s impossible to tell; his expression seems to be carved out of stone—just like it always was. Unfathomable. Mysterious.

‘I missed you,’ you choke.

No response. He looks stiff, his perfect lips pinched tight, his glittering eyes looking distant.

‘Say something!’

Just slightly his jaw relaxes. The darkness in his eyes lightens. The change is only small but it’s enough to send you hurtling towards him.

‘I missed you,’ you say again as you wrap your arms around him.

For several long moments, you hold each other, his cheek resting against your head. He feels so warm. So alive. He can’t just be a fabrication of an injured brain; a lie built from a leaky blood vessel as the doctors suggested.

You don’t dare to start talking. You don’t want to ask the hard questions. His arms feel so strong and wonderful around you, like they belong there.

Then you remember the class you have tomorrow. You remember that you’re supposed to have Honey Bites for breakfast with Lilly in the morning. In an instant, the dream is over and you pull out of his arms.

The tears are rolling down your cheeks but you stand firm. ‘You cannot keep me.’

‘I won’t.’

‘You won’t?’

He shakes his head.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You told me once that I can’t have both. You thought that I couldn’t keep you and yet have you love me.’

He steps towards you and you take a step back. Your pulse is pounding in your neck. You can’t shake the prickle of dread racing up and down your arms. His eyes are gleaming intensely, like little chips of glass.

‘But you’re wrong,’ he says.

‘What are you saying?’

His eyes bore into yours. The stiffness of his collar somehow brings out the sharpness of his features; the black of his jacket, the darkness in his eyes. You suck in a breath as he reaches out his hand, but he only touches your cheek.

Then his face splits into a grin, and he laughs. Grabbing your chin, he kisses you on the mouth. In your shock, you do what’s natural—you kiss back. You know you shouldn’t be doing it; it’s only going to be harder to let him go. Worse, it might be harder for him to let you go. But you can’t help it. You must. You must. You must.

‘Don’t you want to know why?’ he murmurs against your lips.

‘Why what?’ You’re so groggy it’s hard to think.

‘Why you’re wrong.’

You stare mutely.

‘You still don’t believe me,’ he sighs. ‘It’s simple—visit me here while you sleep and I’ll let you wake, to live your regular life.’

Your heart dares to leap. ‘You-you think we can do that?’

‘Only, it means our time together will be short.’

‘Because of the time lapse.’ Months in your real life means weeks here. Minutes here means hours back home. It makes your heart sink.

‘We’ll have to make the most of it,’ he says.

‘Can you do that?’

‘It’s either this—or nothing.’ He gives a sardonic smile. ‘Can you trust me?’

You look between his beautiful eyes. The thought of never seeing him again weighs heavily on your heart. The thought makes it hurt to breathe.

‘What other choice do I have?’

Smiling, he holds out his arms. You rush into them.

‘Take me to bed,’ you murmur in his ear as you squeeze him tight.

His smile is sad. ‘Time is almost up. Unless you want to stay longer.’

You try to smile—and fail. ‘Maybe another day.’

‘Another day.’ Still wearing that sad little smile, he rests his forehead against yours as he brushes his fingers down over your eyelids.

You close them.

When you open them next, it’s to bright morning light shining through your window. You barely have time to absorb what’s happened when your alarm sounds. You let it go as you gaze up at the ceiling, unable to keep the grin from your face.