Chapter 32

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Oh dear.

Xios

Will I ever recover from the sensation of Zahra's soul grazing my fingertips as I let it slip out of my grasp?

No, no I will not.

Thank you.

My heart has not calmed since that moment in the kitchen hours ago.

I had to excuse myself, climb the stairs, and rock back and forth in the corner of my room for thirty minutes, only pulling myself together when Zahra called to let me know the food was ready.

Then, naturally, I had a breakdown at the table, sobbing into the concoction she'd fixed.

It has, in short, been an absolutely draining day.

Every muscle in my body aches while I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to regulate my breaths.

Pulling my hand from beneath the comforter, I graze my cheek.

She kissed my cheek.

She placed her soul in my palm after making it clear she didn't want me to grab hold of it.

If I'm honest, I've played with souls before.

As a creature that steals, it's all too simple to toy with the frail wills of humans unnoticed, so I have—now and again—unraveled a few, drained my fill of life's heavier emotions from them, and put them back with renewed hope.

It is no surprise that Zahra's soul puts everything else I have ever felt to shame.

It was so…beautiful. Even weighed down by life's troubles and trials and the terrors she never should have had to bear, love saturated every inch.

I want it more desperately than I have ever wanted anything before. Not that such a thing wasn't the case before I had a taste…

Now, however, I fear my obsession shall consume me.

Turning my head, I risk losing my heart as my eyes make out the dark shape of my soulmate.

She's barely a dim outline beneath the covers on the other side of the bed. So, painfully, far away. Blissfully slumbering and oblivious to my plight.

It's for the best.

I return my attention to the distant black chasm of the ceiling.

Were I able to see through the shadows like Pollux, how would I contain myself? And if a lock of Zahra's hair were out of place, how would I stop myself from fixing it? And if my gloveless finger were to graze her skin unexpectedly…

Nope.

I wouldn't survive.

A third breakdown when I'm this tired is not recommended. Zero out of five stars.

I am a strong, independent, about-to-be-one-year-old. I should only be having one breakdown a day. As Willow would say, that is the reasonable amount.

She has previously advised me to make the most of my singular allotted breakdown by letting it last hours. Truly a visionary.

I wonder if she's awake.

Reaching blindly toward my nightstand, I tap my phone screen and squint into the brilliance of my black lock screen. Even with the brightness turned all the way down, it is painful.

It is also three in the morning.

I haven't slept for a second.

Whenever I close my eyes, there are… pictures in my brain that refuse to abate.

They involve Zahra and situations I'm positive would be sensory nightmares. As a rule, I'm against touch. Yet anytime Zahra grazes me, it's like a little blessing igniting my nerves. She fills a pit of bleak contradictions inside me.

Struggling with food and touch, after all, does in no way mean I don't crave either.

A shaking inhale rises and falls, bringing tears to my eyes. Hand trembling, I spread my fingers against my stomach.

The protein shakes and liquid diet has helped so much, but having a real meal? Having multiple platefuls? Eating until I felt full ? Life will never be the same.

I'm not hungry.

For the first time in my existence, I am tempering the sensation of digestion over the pain of starvation while I try to sleep.

Does feeling food digest suck? Sure. But at least it doesn't hurt. Keeping my mind on the way Zahra's soul felt almost erases the sensations, too.

It was so pretty and tempting in my hands, slithering through my fingers like a pure ream of silk.

My soulmate really is an angel.

Rolling onto my side, I peer across the miles between us, at the faint shape of her. I trace it with my eyes. I imagine pulling her into my arms, letting our legs tangle while I sample the salt on her skin and decide whether or not I can add it to my list of safe foods.

The images alone are intoxicating, and I spend an incalculable amount of time drowning in them.

Since I've been lying awake, I hear Ash's whimper before it's fully realized, so I rise and sweep him from his fresh dirt pile before he has a chance to disturb Zahra.

"There, there… Daddy's here," I murmur. "What seems to be the problem, munchkin?" For some inexplicable reason, he is experiencing pain. Given my comfy bunny onesie, my hands are still bare when I cup his little cheek.

His flesh burns my fingers.

Dread swallows my heart.

Ash's weak whimpering doesn't settle as he angles his body toward me, pleading for help. Shallow breaths move through him while his skin blazes, and I identify that something is definitely wrong.

Softly, I swear.