Page 64

Amias

I didn't even bother getting up from bed this morning, no matter how many times people knocked and called for me. Staying curled up in my soft white blanket within four beige walls, I go back and forth between sleep and wondering if Ignatia is okay.

"Amias!" Mother called. "I want to talk things out. I want to make sure my dove is okay."

I didn't reply, only covering my head with the blanket.

"Amias! You're upsetting your mother! Come out! Now!"

I didn't react to Father. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

"Hey Amias. It's me. Glaide. I just want to make sure my friend is okay. I brought some ribs over."

Still I stay in my bed. I just want Ignatia back.

It falls silent in my bedroom. My head is on my pillow, imagining that Ignatia is beside me. I imagine her beautiful rings of fire staring back at me. My fingers remember how her waist feels and my lips yearn for her passionate kiss.

I hope she's okay…

There's another knock. I don't even lift my head. I just reach out beside me, as if Ignatia were physically there. I pretend to stroke her cheek.

"Amee!"

The sweet little voice does make me snap from my thoughts. I look over to the open door of my bedroom, listening carefully.

“Come out!"

I groan. They aren't seriously baiting me with Sabina, are they?

My bones feel heavy, as if they were carved from metal. I force myself up from bed, and drag my feet down the hallway to the living room, stopping at the front door. "I'm coming, Sourdough."

I walk to the door and open it to see not only Mother holding Sabina, but Father, Glaide and Erasmus crowding around. Just smiling, waiting to come in.

"Oh thank Cosmo, you're still alive in there!" Mother says, placing a hand on her chest. "I was beginning to worry."

"I still have those ribs, if you haven't eaten yet." Glaide adds, holding out a plastic container with dark red sauce.

I don't respond to them, but look at Sabina, who raises a brow at everyone. I smile at her. She's innocent and doesn't deserve to be here in this mess. “Sourdough," I whisper.

I reach out for her, and she stretches her arms out towards me coming to my arms. She cocks her head slightly as I bring her inside. "You look tired," she says with her famous sour pout.

I titter. "I am a little." I don't even bother to look behind me as everyone else steps through the door. “It was hard sleeping last night."

"You need to go to bed.”

"I know, but everyone is waking me up!" I give a side eye to everyone in the room.

"Really?" Sabina pouts.

"Really."

"Everyone! Stop waking Amee up!" she yells to everyone, balling up her fists.

I snicker. "You tell them, Sourdough."

"Amias, we should really address your mental health," Mother says. Creaking comes from the soft white couch on the far end of the room. "I’ve been looking at a bunch of therapists, and I thought maybe I should discuss them with you."

Ignoring her, I look to my fridge a few steps away in my open kitchen. It's in the same cream color as the cabinets. "You want some bread, Sourdough?"

"Yeah!" she exclaims.

"Alright then." Despite my heavy feet, I drag us over to the refrigerator, where I have some homemade bread slices on the shelf, ready to eat in a small container. I reach through the cold blue tinted barrier and hand her one. "Let me know what you think."

"Amias, don't ignore your mother!" Father scolds.

Sabina flinches at my Father's scolding. I sigh and look up at Father. "I don't care who you chose."

"Can you at least discuss it with her?" he growls. "She's trying to help you."

"I just think a proper diagnosis and having someone private to talk to about your feelings may help," Mother murmurs, her brows scrunching together.

“I agree with Mother,” Erasmus folds his arms. “This kind of stuff really damages people. Have you even done anything to take care of yourself? Did you even eat?”

Glaide nods beside him. “You need this.”

I slouch and look at Sabina. "Is it good, Sourdough?"

"Yes!" she exclaims, waving her half-eaten slice. "Can I have more?"

"Finish that piece first." I make my way over to the cream sofa chair. It sits in front of a glass coffee table now hideously decorated with Mother's printed papers. I set Sabina on my lap.

On the papers are faces and descriptions of people. There's two men and one woman. "These therapists have dealt with sexual assault victims and captor attraction syndrome,” Mother explains “I think maybe they can help you."

"I'm not a sexual assault victim."

"Yes, but you have something similar."

"I'm not a victim of any sort." I scoff. "If you would just listen without your own bias, maybe you'd understand."

"Just let me explain these different therapists options."

I'm about to protest when I catch my Father's side glance. Any arguments would get shut down by him, so I might as well shut up.

She discusses them, and I barely bother to listen. They all sound as similar as they look, sexual assault therapists, who help male victims speak their truth and get to a better stage of life. Have been in the profession for decades. They also can deal with dreamscreecher situations like mine.

Instead of listening, my mind drifts to Ignatia. I want to wrap my arms around her waist, and experience one last kiss. Her last kiss left a craving that will never be fulfilled. “So, what therapist would you choose?" Mother asks.

I shrug. "I don't care. Just choose one."

"What is a ter-a-pst?" Sabina asks, raising her brows.

"Oh, it's just someone that will help Amias feel better," Mother explains. "He's a little sad."

Sabina turns to me with her nose wrinkled up. "You're sad?"

I smile. "No. I just miss Clara."

She cocks her head. "Claree?"

"Yes. People don't like her much here, so she had to go to where people like her."

"Why don't people like her? I love her. She's my future mom!"

"Me too. I don't understand them either."

"You should teach her the truth, Amias," Father starts. I groan as he continues. "Kids need to learn that dreamscreechers like Clara are not to be trusted. It's dangerous to condition her to think otherwise. Look at how it's destroying you!”

Sabina gasps “Claree is a dreamscreecher?"

I nod. "But she's not evil."

"But… dreamscreechers killed my parents," she whines. "Will she kill me?"

"No, of course not. She would never do that to you."

"But dreamscreechers are bad.” Her face scrunches.

"No, Sourdough. Let me tell you the truth." I lower my head to her level. "If there was a man that's really mean, like he pushed someone on the playground, does that make you mean?"

She quickly shakes her head. "No…"

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't push those people. He did."

"Exactly. It's the same for Ignatia. Those

terrible dreamscreechers don't make Clara terrible. In fact, she would beat those dreamscreechers that were horrible to you."

"Don't teach her that stuff!" Father hisses.

My mind drifts once again. Ignatia would've made a good mother to Sabina. She'd protect her. She would make us laugh and spend time with us. I'm certain she would have enjoyed being her mother.

The perfect family. Me, Ignatia and Sabina.

My heart thumps in the chest, begging for Ignatia's presence. Tears are forced out of my sockets.

Damn it, I want her back.

“Amias?” Erasmus whispers.

My muscles tense and I ball my fist, wishing I could punch him again. I want to scold all of them. I want to shame everyone for what they've done and what they've taken away from both me and Sabina. If it weren't for everyone in the room, Ignatia would still be here.

But yelling won't do anything to convince them. All my pent up anger melts into mourning. "Give me a minute," I whimper before I storm towards my bathroom, and slam the door on everyone.

I try to suppress my cries with my back against the door. I shouldn't be weeping. I brought Ignatia to safety away where no one would find her. I did the right thing. But the tears keep coming.

I almost immediately slide down against the smooth wooden door. A loud sob escapes my mouth as my mind gets filled with the image of her. They took away the woman that I love. My soulmate. Even if she isn't mine by Amara, our souls were intertwined.

I want her back. Damn it, I want her back, but I can't go after her. My family will stop at nothing to find me knowing I went after Ignatia, and once they find her, they’ll have Ignatia killed.

If I want her alive, I have to suffer without her. I won't risk her life for my own selfishness.

"Dove? Is everything okay?" Mother calls.

"I think Amias needs to be left alone…" Glaide says. "Let's go."

The floors creak towards the door, and I start wiping away my tears.

I don't understand them.

How could they not see what they did to Ignatia is wrong?