Page 122 of Lost Lyrebird

Stone, thank fuck, doesn’t return to the tent.

I’m so dialed in to any sounds she makes that my own breaths sync with hers, and her breathy exhales soon pull me into a peaceful doze.I’m not sure how much time passes this way, but at some point, my eyes close.

A small, helpless cry is what wakes me, nearly causing me to fall out of the chair.

Her “No, no, no,” causes a chain reaction in me, and my body jerks to full wakefulness.

The pills have worn off, and the pain is a crushing presence throbbing in my skull.But I couldn’t give a fuck.I push it to the side and stumble to the front of the tent.

Lily’s distress escalates.I unzip the front flap quickly and peer inside.My exhale is made entirely of relief.The window on the side of the tent is open, letting in just enough moonlight to see by.She’s alone and wrapped up like a burrito in a green sleeping bag with her head on a pillow at the other end of the tent.

I take a moment to pull myself together, letting my heart rate resettle.

It’s my name escaping her lips in a small whimper that draws me forward.Not Goose.Finn.And the way she says it.It isn’t just spoken softly; there was a wealth of feeling behind it, like a plea or a prayer.

With all the stealth I can muster, I crawl inside the tent, not yet sure if I intend to wake her or comfort her from the bad dream.She’s facing me, her fingers clasped around the end of the pillow.Her lashes flutter, and there’s movement behind her eyelids.

Another distressed whine leaves her.She shakes her head slightly as if to sayno, and her hand squeezes tightly, releases, again and again.This time, when she cries out, her lips part afterwards, and she speaks.“You pro-o-mised me-e.”

Promise.

And it’s this that levels me where I sit crouched before her.

Because this word… it has the power to shift my world completely.To send my heart soaring to the fucking clouds and beyond.But when I grasp what this could possibly mean… the scale of how much it means to me, my heart falls like a fucking anvil.

For years, I’ve questioned my recollections, my logical reasoning, and my own sanity.That’s been magnified a hundredfold since Lily arrived.I’ve hoarded every memory and sifted through them a million times to sort truth from fiction.I’ve but given up hope that any of it would make sense.But those words spilling from her lips…

You promised me.

This may very well be the truth behind why she’s pushing me away.

The same truth I’ve been searching for for nearly ten fucking years.

The grandest of feathers, and something I’ve never forgotten, no matter how many other memories I’ve lost.Because it’s written in bold black letters all over my bedroom walls.

YOU PROMISED HER.

KEEP YOUR PROMISE.

They have been guiding my path and pushing me forward when I lose hope, because it was never a promise I meant to break.

The fact that I did and left Elle behind, and not only behind, but vulnerable, helpless, and alone, has gutted me to my core, made me feel like the one person in this life I was meant to protect, I failed.Little by little, it has eaten at my soul and crippled my mind.

I’ve been telling myself for months that I’m losing it.That I’ve gone mad when I make a correlation to something Lily does or says to a memory from my past.

But what if these links aren’t false connections?

What if I wasn’t getting it wrong but just being led astray?

Fuck.

The riotous anger comes then.Because Jesus.It makes sense.

I suspected when my notes about the name Angel and Veno’s words about her pointed to this, but I talked myself out of it.

And I get that this isn’t solid proof, but it’s enough to have me questioning everything: the legitimacy of Lily’s stories, background, and information that she’s been spoon-feeding me from day one.

Has she been lying this entire time?Lying to keep me at a distance?