“Am I ugly yet?” I ask.
Huffing, he replies, “Hardly. Not even makeup’s going to achieve that.”
I try to smile over his praise, but my emotions have temporarily deadened inside.
Something doesn’t feel right. Though I’m stuck living in a dark hole with zero exposure to nature or the outside world, I feel as though I’ve developed an internal clock in terms of my time with Jack. When I’m awake, I can usually pinpoint his arrival time pretty closely, and even when I’m asleep, I still tend to wake in time to catch his arrival. My internal clock woke me up several hours ago, but Jack has yet to bathe these walls with a much needed glow. I have no reason to believe my mind is mistaken, but nonetheless, it feels odd that he’s not here. Has my greatest fear come true, and Jack’s been permanently kicked off pixie-sitting me? Maybe Finley figured out he was never going to break me, and told him to beat it – leaving the breaking and beating to him from now on.
I shiver in the darkness, the thought of Finley weighing heavy on my mind, amplifying my fears with each passing minute that Jack doesn’t show. Though another round of sixty-eight breaks to my traumatized wings completely terrifies me, it doesn’t compare to the horror of losing Jack. Even if the only relationship we can ever have is right here in this hole, with me as his captive, I’d rather have this than nothing at all. I know it’s silly to have a crush on a faerie, I do. But at this point, his friendship means everything to me. Even if that’s all it could ever be. I can’t lose that. Not now.
Tears descend out of nowhere, flooding my face with multiple slippery streams. I let them flow freely wherever they lead, my head resting sideways on bent knees. My heart aches – like really aches. It’s a heaviness I’ve never felt before, suffocating almost. My mind drowns me with dreadful thoughts of a love lost that I never had the chance to experience. How cruel a heart can be when it doesn’t get what it wants. Why add physical suffering when the emotional pain is already so severe? Where’s the logic in that?
My tears run dry, and horrible thoughts continuously break my heart long before a glow creeps down from above. My heart jumps to my throat with a deep gasp, not sure whether to leap with joy over Jack’s arrival, or in absolute fear of Finley’s approach. The wavy brown hair is unmistakable, and a smile strains to fight off the previous hours of dread. I thought I’d be ecstatic to see Jack, but the unnecessary trauma I put myself through today has completely drained the life right out of me.
I feel it. I want to scream unto the heavens, oh, thank you, Mother Nature, but I just don’t have it in me.
He touches down slowly, his body jerking a bit. Maybe it’s the light reflecting badly off his skin, but he looks like I feel. “Hey,” I say, the single syllable absolutely lifeless.
“Hey.” He roughly stumbles to the ground, his body seemingly heavy.
“You okay? ‘Cause you kind of remind me of me a few weeks ago,” I scoff.
His smile is so weak it only goes half way. His face droops and he arches his neck so the crown of his head rests against the wall. “Kind of feel that way too. Sorry I’m late. I feel like absolute crap today. I just couldn’t get going until now.”
He looks like he went a few rounds with a spriggan, his head so pale and swollen it actually looks a little misshapen. As much as I yearn for him to stay, what I want and what he needs are two completely different things. It pains me to see him this way. “Maybe you should go back to bed. Lying on the rocks and breathing in this stuffy air will only make you feel worse.”
“I’m going to stay up top because I don’t want to get you sick.”
“Or, even better,” I urge, “going back to bed. I can take care of myself, Jack. Go get some rest.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t make me kick your butt!” I threaten, giving in to the annoyance rising inside me. “Go home!”
He chuckles weakly, and it looks like it hurts. He groans and pathetically pushes himself back on his feet. Unzipping his satchel, he tosses a mixed bag of pine nuts and fresh mini strawberries onto my lap. “I’ll get you some water in a bit, once I’m able to rest a little.”
Angry, I yell, “Mother Nature, you stubborn–”
Interrupting, he snaps with all his might, “I won’t leave you alone, Rosalie! Not when Finley could show up any minute! I won’t leave you here to face him alone! Now I’m going up top so this doesn’t happen to you. Being sick is the last thing you need right now.”
I’m speechless as he rises, completely numb to the bone. He wavers as he ascends, probably dizzy from yelling.
No, Jack. The last thing I need is to spend more time without you.
“Are you completely incapable of staying down in that hole?” a voice bellows above, waking me from a light sleep. Finley!
I gasp, fear ripping the edge of every nerve in my body. I quickly drench my hair with water, doing my best not to saturate the rest of my body, then aimlessly dump the rest of the bucket on the floor. I blow out the lantern Jack left behind, immersing myself in complete darkness.
“It’s too hot to stay down there all day long.” I suppose the adrenaline is helping Jack snap back, because we both know he’s been topside for three days now. Though feeling a little better, he’s bound and determined to stay away so long as he’s still feeling sick. “Now if you’d like me to take her some place where I can actually breathe a little, then fine, I’ll work on her more hours in the day.”
“You insolent little pest. I never should have allowed your father to use this prison to shape you up. You’re a hopeless cause.”
“My father?” Jack growls. “I thought it was your idea to punish me here.”
“Like I’d really bother myself with the punishment of a spoiled brat and his stupid pranks. I don’t care if you screw up your life. All I care about is whether you’ve broken sixty-eight yet, or if I’ll have to do the job myself.”
“She’s close,” Jack spits. “She can’t endure much more.” He’s keeping his cool better than I am, because we both know it’s a complete lie. I have to do something. Unless the makeup on my skin is absolutely flawless after several days of me mindlessly smudging it, there’s no way Finley will be fooled into thinking I’ve had it rough down here. Jack will get into trouble. Finley will force Jack to leave. Then I’ll be completely on my own. He might even send another faerie to guard me – one that won’t be as kind and generous.
I can’t lose Jack. Not now.
Not ever.
I bobble the hot lantern between my hands, which tremble with fear for what I’m about to do.
Don’t think about it, Rosalie! Just do it and everything will be okay.
For Jack…
Before I can give my action a second thought, or scare myself out of doing it, I slam the metal top of the lantern into the side of my head. There’s a brief shot of pain and a burning sensation on my skin, then nothing.
The thin, elongated leaves dance erratically as the wind blows through to the west, making them twist madly back and forth on the long, pliable branches. The breeze tickles the fine hairs on my skin and makes me shiver, though the air is warm and sensuous. Hands press against my back, pushing me forward, and I grip the vines more tightly as I swing forward. Back and forth, back and forth… I kick my legs to increase the speed of my makeshift swing – two vines of the weeping willow tied to a thin stick.
I yelp when my progress yanks to an abrupt halt. For a moment, all of nature quiets in the tree, and the breeze disappears. My swing suddenly twists to the left, more and more and more, until it can’t twist anymore. I brace myself. My swing takes off full-force to the right. I scream playfully, the pressure building within my head, the force of the rotation throwing my balance to the left. I force my head upward and see a feathery swirl of green with bright specks of blue and white sky twinkling down at me.
My scream turns into a burst of giggles one normally hears from an excited pixling. My swing begins to slow, readying itself to reverse directions. I jerk back and forth a few times before coming to a complete stop. It takes a moment for the vertigo to cease within my head.
Hands caress my shoulders and stroke the length of my back. I peek over my shoulder, but all I see is a fluttery blue shimmer. Jack. His touch is magic, and my back begins to tingle everywhere his hands travel. I hardly feel it when his hands splay against my back, giving me another push, setting my swing back into motion. I sigh and drop my head backwards, kicking to speed up my sway. The flexible branches magically twist around my arms to support me. A gorgeous mop of brown waves, and eyes as green as the willow leaves, come into focus. Just as I’m about to swing away, luscious pink lips lean in to kiss my forehead, extending the curve of my smile.
Humming vibrates my throat, my mind filling with song. “Until then, just swing on the willowy tree.” I sway and sway and sway, for as long as he’s willing to reward me with a kiss each time.
I’m still swaying back and forth in a heavenly trance, softly murmuring the song in my head.
No…wait. I’m not the one humming. The sound is deeper, masculine. My eyes flutter, curious to learn the source of the sound. To my disappointment, I’m not swaying in the weeping willow anymore. The sunlight that I thought was peeping through the leaves, sprinkling me with a kaleidoscope effect of lights, is just the flame in the lantern flickering through the wavy glass walls of its prison.
I’m about to moan my opinion of the cruel disillusionment, when I realize my body is still swaying back and forth. But it’s not a willow branch wrapping itself around me, its Jack’s arms, securing me protectively against his body. My cheek is flush against his chest, and my body warm and snug as if cocooned. A heavenly sigh escapes my chest, but neither I nor Jack flinch, and he continues to rock us as he sings,
“When tears and darkness fall
And you can no longer hear my call
Ignore the evil one’s tempting plea
And scurry now to the willowy tree
Wait there you must, until the day
When Mother Nature illuminates your way
I’m afraid it’s the only key
To make the evil tendrils flee
Until then, just swing on the willowy tree”
As he sings, I lift my head to watch the notes vibrate the muscles in his throat. He senses me watching, and his smile is infectious.
“You know that song?” I ask. Duh, Rosalie. Maybe whacking myself in the head wasn’t such a good idea after all – but at least I can blame my stupidity on whatever head trauma I caused.
“Yeah. My mother used to sing it to me as a child. It took me a while to remember the words though. You’ve been singing parts of it in your sleep for awhile now, and it was driving me nuts that I couldn’t remember the words. It was always right on the tip of my tongue. They finally came to me yesterday when you were humming it in your sleep again.”
Lying against his firm chest is so perfect, I can’t help but reach my arms around his body and really snuggle in tight. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his head bends to gently rest atop mine. I gasp quietly inside myself, little sparks of energy popping throughout my abdomen and chest. My heart feels like it’s trying to flip, fighting hard to break its tethers so it can join in the celebration.
We’d been so good to minimize contact since my moan sent him fleeing. But I don’t care anymore. If he’s not going to run from me right now, then I’m going to soak up as much physical contact as he’s willing to give.
I’m suddenly aware that my back is tingling with a numbing sensation. I groan, and elongate my neck to bury my eyes into his neck, too afraid to check the condition of my wings. Timidly, I whisper, “Did they hurt my wings again?”
I already know the answer.
His chest expands beyond normal lung capacity. Once it slowly releases the superfluous air, he quietly replies, “You were unconscious, so Finley didn’t stick around this time. Guess if he can’t watch you scream, he can’t get off on it.” His arms tighten, bringing our abdomens more flush. “Anyway, spriggans aren’t book smart. Most can’t even count. I did the count silently in my head and once I thought they did enough not to question, I told them to stop.” His upper hand sways back and forth, his fingers brushing the skin on my arm in soft, random patterns. “I’m sorry, Rosalie. I wish I could’ve stopped them completely.”
“How many?”
He knows exactly what I mean. “Thirty-two.”
I moan, and not in the pleasurable way that removed his hands in the past. If anything, his body is trying its best to cover as much of my body as possible, as if it could protect me or something. “How long was I out?”
“Four days.”
Now it’s my turn to overfill my chest. Four days? “Seriously, how bad is it?” Jack extends the length of our sway. After several passes, I urge, “Jack?” He continues to ignore my request, and when my head fearfully rotates toward my back, he presses my head firmly into his chest.
“I’m getting you out of here, Rosalie. And soon. Finley’s not getting another chance at your wings. Okay?”
I try to nod, but his grip is immobilizing. And like a fool pixie crushing on an unattainable faerie, I allow myself to be smothered to sleep by his protective grip.
Once again I awake like a baby cradled in Jack’s arms – and I love it. It saddens me that it took the devastation of watching my wings broken again for him to let go of everything holding him back, but I’m grateful he has. Even if friendship is all we can share, it warms my heart that there’s someone out there that will seriously miss me if my life’s hour glass came to drop its last grain of sand.