Page 46 of My Dark Obsession

‘Familiar Weakness-Nota Infirmitatem’

Amaya

The portal crackled with power. I hadn't even summoned my own magic and yet my hair stood on end, and my arms gathered goosebumps as my heart slammed against my chest. I didn’t know why I was so nervous; I had spent my entire time in Wisteria looking for a way back and it was right here the entire time.

I could have gone straight back through.

Shaking my head as I observed the small crack between realms, I sighed. I couldn't think like that, not now anyways. I had two Mates, two strong men that were now mine. I had a home for the first time in my entire life. I had a history there, a place to belong.

The black mist in the corner of my eye swirled closer, edging me towards the crack as I stepped away in shock.

What the fuck?

It had never done that before. Stepping away from the crack, I wiped my hands on my pants.

I really needed to figure out what the hell the black mist was, but for now, I needed to work out how to actually get myself through the portal.

The crack was barely visible to the eye; the vibration of magic from it was strong but it definitely wasn’t big enough to simply walk through.

“Go watch my men for me?” I asked Ravioli as he watched me from his perch atop a fallen wooden beam.

Taking one deep breath and squeezing my eyes shut, I did the only thing I could think off-I threw myself at the crack.

The air ripped from my lungs; my face bled from the tiny pinpricks of needles that stabbed along my bare skin.

I was compressed and squeezed through space and time.

I couldn’t gasp, couldn’t scream in agony.

I was nothing but an object now misshapen and abused.

This was no portal between cities; no, this was a painful shove between entire worlds, realms apart.

I slammed to the ground with a thud. Bones crunched and snapped as my head bounced back from the cold concrete floor. The familiar smell of damp and blood filled my nose.

I was back in Lyal’s basement. I had been away for such a short amount of time, yet here I was again, muscles seizing in utter terror at the thought of seeing his face again.

I was waiting for the angry blows, the pain.

But I wasn’t the same as I was just a few weeks ago.

No, I was Amaya of the Dark Mountain. I was a full-blooded Dark Witch.

I was powerful. And I was here for my boys.

I waited for the magic in my veins to heal the wound the portal had given me, but nothing happened. My body throbbed as the ache in my skull grew with each uneven breath.

Why wasn’t I healing?

I shoved myself to my feet. The basement was dark, and I was barely able to see in front of me, just the small glow from the streetlight peeping through the filthy basement window casting a small orange streak across the floor.

Rushing to the rickety stairs I slipped and slammed back down to my knees, the pain vibrating through me as my hands slid in a warm stickiness.

What the fuck?

Squinting down at my hands, I tried to make out what it was in the dark. Rubbing my fingers to my thumb, I smeared it, its familiar thick wet slide, a memory I was never able to forget:

Blood.

My heart dropped down to my churning stomach as I closed my eyes and asked my magic to bring me light. Peeking through one eye, my shoulders slumped when the dark basement came into view.

Where were these damn powers of mine?

Shuffling on my knees, I reached up to the dangling string that pulled on the dull orange light above me. Bright red blood smeared all over my hands and pooled around my knees and legs.

A high pitch screech started to ring in my ears; this was not old blood. It was still liquid. Still warm .

I knew who it belonged to.

Everything slowed down. I couldn’t hear through the screeching ring. My vision wavered as I stood to my feet.

Turn around Amaya.

Turn around.

Face it.

TURN AROUND.

Forcing my body to turn, I froze.

No.No.No. Nonono.

No.No.No. No

NO.

My heart ached; the blood pumping through thin veins circulated pain throughout my body.

Grief was supposed be a mental struggle, not utter torture that caused physical pain.

This was a different kind of pain to being beaten within an inch of my life.

This was a cold ache spreading and stretching through every morsel of my being.

A hole was opening in my chest where the obsession and new happiness had been building.

An empty dark pit that held nothing but loss.

Loss and loneliness that only that one person could hold in their warm embrace, an embrace that was now cold, stale and lifeless, their body empty of the soul that swirled light and warmth.

A strange lump clogged my throat, a scream begging to be released and heard. The pounding of my shattering heart echoed in my own ears as my breathing became shallow. I couldn't move. Couldn't speak.

I didn't want to.

Didn't need to.

Blinking dry eyes I unclenched my fists.

Wetness coated where my nails had dug in half-moon shapes into my palm.

It didn't hurt, because all I could concentrate on was that coldness.

I showed no emotion, just an expressionless mask, but inside I allowed the emptiness to spread and curl around my own darkening soul.

I always knew I was cold, dark and practically void of emotions. But this...this was something else entirely.

Breathing in deeply I expected to smell and taste the stench of death, but a nothingness greeted me.

Nothing to smell, nothing to taste. There was nothing left for me here anymore.

Swallowing the scream of utter agony that was my being, I forced myself to stare and take in every detail before me: the colourless blood that pooled around my frozen feet, the little toes that poked from beneath the stained sheet that covered the tiny, emaciate body, the lifeless soulless body of my best friend, my family.

Everything was now a dull black, white and grey.

Because my life had no colour left within it. It had floated away with his soul.

Had they felt every hit? Every kick? Did they cry out in pain?

In fear? Did their little hearts pound in absolute panic?

Did they know they were dying? Had they called my name and begged me to save them?

Did their shitty little life play like a film before their heart stopped being?

Were they greeted by warmth and love on the other side or were they just gone?

Were they nothing but an empty cold vessel? Is that why I felt a large empty pit opening up? Because they were gone and not there to fill it.

People said it got easier over time. Grief.

That it was always hard to start with. But how true was that, when everything I did would remind me of them?

Of how they once smiled flashing little dimples my way.

Knowing that they had such an awful ending to their lives is never going to make that easier.

It was going to stick to me like black poisonous tar.

It would spread and curdle and fester. I could already feel its poison sticking to my bones.

The urge to follow them was strong.

How was I supposed to carry on? When I had fought for so long to get back? I fought to protect them with everything I had. Had only ever kept strong for them. Everything I ever had or was, was for them. I was nothing without them.

I failed them.

It was my fault.

I failed them.

It should have been me not them.

They were mine and I had left them there, alone and cold and empty.

I truly was a monster. Cole had been right; the entire time, he had been right. I was poisonous. Something that needed to be put down like a rabid dog. My venomous spirit had leaked my pores and sunk themselves into everyone's lives and caused absolute chaos.

I wouldn’t leave them alone anymore. I would never leave them again.

A crack echoed around the room as the screeching finally stopped. I was on my knees again, looking down at the stained sheet. I slowly lifted it away from his face.

My boys were identical, but I always knew which was which. And this little soulless empty body was my little Elfyn. Smoothing back his curls, I rested my forehead against his cold one.I don’t know how long I stayed there, minutes, hours-who knows? I still didn’t move.

There was only one body here. But I knew, I knew Elyas was gone also. The swirling pit in my stomach that was usually filled with the deep obsession for them was empty.

My boys were gone.

Dead.

And without them, I was weak.

Worthless.

Pathetic.

Undeserving of the power within me.

I had waited so long to leave. So long to take my last breath and just be done with this god-forsaken fucking life.

I froze as the creaking of the floorboards above my head caused dust to fall onto Elfyn’s body.

He was there: Lyal.

That disgusting, vile fucking scumbag.

He needed to be punished. He needed to feel the pain he put us through for so many years.

He deserved pain.

“I’ll be back. I’ll find your brother. And then I’ll join you. We’ll be together again,” I whispered.

Pushing to my feet, my muscles screaming out after being sat in the same position for hours, I waited for the power to buzz through my veins. When nothing happened, I slowly walked to the rusty green pipe and yanked it from the wall.

I made my way up the stairs.

I was calm. So very calm.

No noise raged within, no clenching cold pit in my stomach.

Just utter calm.

I was finally allowing myself to do what I always needed to do, what I always wanted. What I craved.

Pushing open the basement door slowly, I stepped into the dirty kitchen.More blood greeted me, this one old and thick and smelling of rotten flesh. There, sitting at the old table with a bottle of cheap beer was Lyal, our foster father.

The monster who created a monster.