Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
…To join.
I feel her in my thoughts. Her pain. Her fear. Her joy at seeing me. And I want to comfort her, but all I see are the souls around the world needing just as much comfort from their pain, and the impending doom of the balance between me and Apep.
I cannot let him gain a foothold, and I cannot lose the control I barely grasp at this moment.
Small arms suddenly wrap around my middle. “Thank you.”
I hang my head, my body completely wrecked. “You shouldn’t thank your murderer, Cleo.”
“I’m not thanking Ra right now, I’m thanking you.”
“We’re the same, me and Cyrus.”
She hugs me tighter. “One’s so very human, the other carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. Who do you want to be right now?”
Nobody has ever asked me this question. In all of my existence, I’ve never been asked what I would wish for, what I would want.
I could create constellations to worship Cleo, I could move mountains, throw the sea into chaos. I could, I could, I could.
But I’ve always thought to myself: I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
Because to choose me, over a world full of people however evil and corrupt—is wrong.
I draw a deep breath. “A father.” I stare out at the sea. “One that comes home to a wife and kids, who binge watches whatever ridiculous shows my family wants to watch. I want to eat bread and not remember what it was like to plant the first wheat. I want to drink water and not be consumed by its darkness, I want to laugh, I want to cry—with my family. I want a family. I want, I want so much, to just sit and read a book to my son, my daughter, I want to touch your face so gently that it puts you to sleep, I don’t know those things, but I imagine they would be---beautiful.”
I can feel her sadness like it’s my own. “I could be a wife like that, you could be a husband like that, even in a mundane job. You could be a car salesman, look at your face alone.”
I laugh. “I would work anywhere for you and no job is too low or high, it’s survival.”
“We could survive together.”
The temptation is so strong my veins burn.
I imagine it.
And then all I see is fire, war, and chaos destroying the world because I failed, both her and the immortals.
It would have never lasted, right?
Chaos would reign.
And people I care for would die. People she cares for would die.
It isn’t fair.
But life rarely is.
The dirt, however, will nourish her, take care of her, restore what has been lost.
She’ll have dreams in her next life, and they’ll feel so real she’ll wake up in tears thinking of them, of us, maybe in her next life she’ll be a famous artist, an author, someone who creates the memories she thinks are false but are completely real.
I almost laugh. Maybe she’ll draw Ken. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
She’ll remember what she loved. And I hope, in her next life, at some point, she sees me, remembers me, draws me, thinks of me, sings about me. I hope so much that when she sheds tears she knows who dries them. That I’m looking down on her shielding her from the pain of loss. I hope so much that in her next life she finds what she never found in this one.
Peace.
She will never remember this. She’ll only feel a strong need to lift her head high towards the sky and spread her arms wide as I gift her with the only thing I can—myself from far away.
I will take the suffering, day after day, but at least…
I will be remembered by the small freckles I create on her nose just so when she looks in the mirror—she sees how much she’s loved. Most people look at them as a blemish not realizing, they can also be protection, a gift. I will forever be hers. I will rise for her only and humanity will be blessed because of it.
Her smell is intoxicating. She still holds me firm. I still have no strength to walk away.
“And what would Cyrus the car salesman do if he knew that he was going to die?”
“He’d make love to his wife.” I lower my voice. “Because you will never feel more at one with someone, and I would need her strength to face the future.”
Cleo rests her head against my back, her small hands roam down my sides and then my front. All it takes is the barest of grazes from her fingertips and I’m hard.
I tell my feet to move.
They do not.
I tell my heart to freeze.
It heats.
And I tell my soul it’s not worth the cost.
It soars.
Her hands graze me again. “We don’t know.” I clear my throat. “The consequences of more, Cleo. I don’t know. There’s a reason I haven’t—just know there’s a reason.”