FLEUR
Casper smiles. It’s that tight-lipped smirk I love, the one he gives me when I’m pissing him off, but at the same time, he can’t bite my head off whilst keeping a straight face. Eyes darker than ever, as though his pupils have bled into his irises and any fragment of the rich earthy chocolate is gone. But still, I feel myself smile at him. Smiling like the darkness in his eyes is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I hate the dark.
I hate the dark, but I love him.
“Stay in the dark, petite fleur.” I turn to find her. I think she’s sick again. Mum likes the dark when she gets sicker.
There’s a moment, a small crack of light, and I see her. And it’s so strange the way the light moves around her in watery waves. But there’s no water, just darkness. It’s so fucking dark, and I don’t like it. I don’t like being in the dark. I don’t like it when she locks me in the dark.
“Mum…Mummy…Mu—”
“Shhh,” she whispers, holding her fingers to her mouth as though this is only an oops moment and everything is going to be all right. “Hide, petite fleur, don’t let the wolves get you…”
“No.”
“Yes,” he tells me. Taking a step back as I reach for him, he pushes through the gap to
stand beside her. Stay in the dark, Trouble.”
“I don’t want to.”
A drawn chuckle leaves his lips. They’re as sculpted and pink as I remember. The stubble surrounding them is dark and heavy. An itch fuzzes my fingertips to touch it. But he’s too far, and I can’t. No matter how much I run towards them, I seem to get farther and farther away.
Another smile and he looks away. They both turn around, and they’re walking off. They’re leaving me in the dark. I don’t like the dark. I don’t like it.
Tears cloud my eyes, hurting my chest as I hold in my cries. Mum will let me out eventually if I wait. And I wait and wait and wait.
Stay in the dark, petite fleur.
Don’t let the wolves get you.
Stay in the dark, Trouble.
Their voices haunt my obscurity until it feels like the sun is burning my eyes.
Blinking awake, I stare out to the road zooming past us. Unsure of how long we’ve been on the move today, I remain as lost as I’ve been the last couple of days.
Weaving in and out of sleep and haunted dreams. Not nightmares—they can’t be bad because he’s in them.
I dream of him all the time. I dream that he let me love him freely, and that he loved me in return. But I guess some dreams are nothing but wishes dusted in the wind. Some loves are never meant to be requited. Some people are born to be alone.
The hole in my chest threatens to cave in again. There’s a constant bleakness inside me that searches for a loophole in humanity, something that could bring Casper back.
Breathe, I remind myself when everything starts to spin.
We’ve been stopping and starting. It’s bunker and go. Exhausting, but not enough to quiet the grief bellowing inside me, making the hole bigger, the darkness bleaker.
“Are you hungry?” Ryan asks, offering me a croissant he picked up at breakfast at the small bed and breakfast we stayed at last night.
All the villages and bumfuck towns we’ve stopped at are eerie and quiet as though they’re frozen in time.
“Hunger strike isn’t going to change anything. It’ll only make you weaker, and there’s no point in me protecting you if you’re not going to look after yourself.” The croissant lands on my lap, and before I wrap it back up and stash it in the centre console of the Jeep, he adds, “Eat the fucking thing. Do us both a favour and eat or I’ll have to force it down you.”
“For someone who says they’re protecting me, you’re doing a fine job of threatening.” I brush the pastry off my lap. Before it lands on his, Ryan’s swerving the car onto the side of the road. It comes to a stop and he gets out, slamming the door so hard that the whole thing rattles around me.
It’s cold and we’re in the middle of nowhere, taking back roads so we’re safe from traffic cameras, anyone that might be looking for us and anything that might give us away. But he’s pacing on the side of the road. Up and down. Round and round. I can see him in the side mirror, arguing with himself and the heavens before he stomps back towards me.
I shrink in my seat as he gets closer. Glacial and mean. Eyes hooded with frustration and his standard nice smile completely gone. It’s odd that Casper always looked dark and dangerous and I was never scared or uneasy with him. I could push and push him, and I was certain that he would never hurt me. It was like with me, his bark was sharper than his bite. But Ryan…he’s glacial and menacing. The colourful tattoos, the light hair and the bright eyes. They hide what’s really beneath his pretty and laid-back façade.