Chapter 28 After waking up
Celine’s POV
Candlelight stung my eyes, and I opened them slowly as the scent of herbs came strongly at me. I was still laid on the bed and had not left the room.
After I blanked out, what happened?
“Celine…” Lila called.
It was difficult trying to lift my head off the bed, but I did anyway. And what… the bedsheet was dyed red, the smell of iron and copper still fresh in my nostrils. Well, I bled. I heard them talking about it, but was it to this extent?
My eyes spotted the table beside the bed, and I found scissors, cotton wool, bandages, and a bluish substance sealed in a small jar. My attention went to my wrists. I felt something. When I raised my hands to look, I got the hint.
The bandages and all the other objects had been used on me.
“I was scared you wouldn’t wake up this soon,” Lila said.
Her eyes hadn’t dried, and anyone who looked at her would know she had been crying. Even her voice gave that away. But for how long had those tears been pouring out?
An hour or more?
How long had I been unconscious?
I didn’t know, and it didn’t seem like my eyes had noticed the clock before passing out. In fact, I had barely looked at it. It hung above the door, slowly collecting dust, but that wasn’t the reason I avoided looking at it. The ticking always reminded me that everything was against me, that I had little time left.
And I didn’t want to think about anything time-related.
Time—past and present—held no meaning for me, and neither did the future.
“You were unconscious, and I was scared that hours, if not days, would go by without your eyes opening,” she muttered, then brought her lips closer to my ears. “I was scared you would fall into limbo, but… thank goodness you didn’t.”
I found it hard to nod at her.
I gazed at her, scared to speak.
She knew I wanted to speak, that I must have had countless questions, but she didn’t rush me. Somehow, it felt like the first day I had found myself in this room, clueless about what awaited me. And her gaze… as intense as that day, only now familiar. I had almost gotten used to it.
“Celine.” Her fingers brushed through my hair. “You almost killed yourself.”
“I did?” My voice was weak.
Her gaze dropped from my head to my knees, then to the bedsheet. “The blood all over you… do you realize that?”
“And that meant I almost died?”
“You lost blood… too much blood for anyone to survive easily.”
“But I didn’t die, did I?”
She frowned. She would have scolded me, but instead, she swallowed and heaved a long sigh. That helped.
“Self-harming.” She knelt beside me, pulled the blanket covering me, and touched my fingers. “Your fingernails… I should cut them immediately.”
“No.” I shook my head despite the pain it caused. “I like them this way.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
I couldn’t describe the expression on her face, but I could tell it wasn’t relaxed. Her veins popped out, and her fingers shook as we went back and forth like my body didn’t belong to me.
“That’s just who I am. I’ll always be this way.”
“You won’t!” Her voice was louder.
She touched my legs, pressed the veins she could find with little effort, and walked up to my wrist.
Oww!
It hurt.
“Your body is frail! You’re taking your madness too far!”
“My madness?” I tried to raise my head above the pillow, but the weakness made it impossible. “You call this madness?”
“What else would it be?”
“Did I bring all this upon myself?”
My voice rose, and it felt like I was shouting across the room.
“I didn’t mean that.” She placed her hand on my shoulder.
I yanked her off.
My heart pounded as the weakness overtook me, making my head fall back onto the bed.
“You should take this tea.” She poured a reddish substance from the jug on the second table into a mug beside it. “It will give you strength.”
“I don’t need this.” I turned my head away.
“You feel weak, don’t you?” She brought the mug closer; the vapor touched my skin.
Maybe I needed it. I hated feeling so fragile—it was like death moving through me.
“I don’t.”
“Why?”
She would try everything to make me sip it, her feelings hurt at my refusal. I started to think things shouldn’t be that easy.
“Well.” I shrugged. “Since I’m taking my madness too far, I don’t deserve strengthening tea.”
“Celine.” She placed the mug on the table. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For saying that to you.”
She made me turn to face her and gave a soft, warm smile. I didn’t know how to smile back, so I simply nodded.
“But you could… perhaps not now.”
I let her hold the mug while I sipped. She watched me. What I wanted most was to read her mind—but that couldn’t happen.
“I’m your aunt,” she said.
“Okay?”
“I’m your mother’s sister.”
“Mother’s sister?”
“Yes, I am.”
She still smiled, but I could see her apprehension about my reaction.
“You must know my mother well.”
“Of course.” She chuckled lightly. “Sisters always know everything about each other.”
“And the daughter shouldn’t know?” I furrowed my brows.
“Not again?” She sighed. “You’re still upset I didn’t give you the pictures.”
I didn’t answer, but she could read my body language. She hadn’t explained why I shouldn’t have them, and that wasn’t enough for me—until I knew, until she had valid reasons.
“You could look at them,” she said. “But only on planned occasions.”
“Planned occasions?”
“Yes.”
She poured more tea. “Have some more.”
I sat on the bed, too exhausted to start a conversation, but her eyes never left me. It felt like the first day I was brought here. The scent of herbs, her gaze… again, I found myself inspecting the room, wondering how long I would be trapped.
But I had always been trapped within myself. That was if I was honest. Did I really feel complete with my love for Colt?
I began to doubt it.
“Mira was here,” I said.
Her eyes were so focused that she seemed not to hear me.
“Lila?”
She didn’t answer.
I patted her hand.
“Oh…” I blinked.
“You okay?”
“Yes… I was lost for a moment.”
“Is that so?” I cringed.
“It still feels like a dream meeting you after such a long time… I thought I lost you.”
“Before I went unconscious, I thought you’d left.”
She shook her head. “I would never leave. Not when you’re here.”
She placed her hands on mine, but it felt awkward. I had to adjust, but it was too hard to do so instantly. Accepting that I had family… too hard.
She squeezed my hands gently. “I’d always love you.”
Ugh. There she went, rubbing it in.
Before she told me we were family, I had a strange attachment to her—but why did it feel different now?
I swallowed. “Mira came here.”
“Yeah, I sent her to—”
A knock on the door cut her off, and we both stared.
“Who could that be?” I asked.
Lila left my side to get to the door.
But the scent of rain on grass came through, stirring a strange warmth in me. I could tell who it was—but why would he be here?
The door opened.
“Tristan?” I muttered.