Nightingale (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller Page 0,3
tried reaching out to him in my mind, but there’s only endless static. Why can’t he hear me?
“Was there anyone else?” the healer says, bringing my attention back to her.
Henry Trevern, I think. My mouth puckers trying to say his name, but no sounds come out. I swallow and try the other name. “Eloise. I don’t know her last name.”
Surprise flashes across the healers face but she quickly disguises it and makes a note on her tablet. “Tell me about the night you snuck out with—”
“To see me,” Mother interrupts.
“Yes.” The woman keeps her head lowered. “The night you met Malin in the cabin.”
This is how it’s been the whole time. So many questions, but not one mention of Henry.
“Beck woke me.” Henry my mind screams. “He told me to get a sweater and shoes. He said to meet him at the weeping willow.” Henry, not Beck. Henry.
“And then what happened?”
“We transported out of Summer Hill, to the other side of the dome. Mother was there with Annalise and Kyra. There was a cottage and a table of food.”
“So, Beck Channing brought you to Malin. And you had a feast?”
I shake my head. When she says it like that, it sounds ridiculous. “Mother told me…” I squeeze my eyes shut and try to pull the memory up. “She said I needed to go back to Summer Hill. That it was the safest place for me.”
The healer stops tapping on her tablet. “Does any of this make sense to you, Lark? Why would Beck deliver you to Malin? And why on Earth would she send you back?”
“No. It doesn’t make sense.” Except I’m positive it did. Once.
“Does it seem possible that the Light witches manufactured a memory, or perhaps many memories, to confuse you? Were you ever unconscious for periods of time?”
I nod my head slowly. “When they encased me.”
She sighs knowingly and my heart sinks. Why would they plant memories that make me fear them? Wouldn’t it make things easier if I trusted them? But maybe that’s why I have loving memories of Beck and our life together..
The two things don’t add up.
Across the room, Annalise and my male guards are at Mother’s side, watching me.
Wonderful. I’m on display again. Only this time, everyone gets to see how crazy I am.
“Perhaps it’s time for a break?” Mother says, addressing the room.
The healer stands and follows the guards out of my bedroom, leaving Mother and me alone.
“There’s no need for this now.” She bends over me and removes the restraint. I rub my throbbing wrist.
Mother must trust me. Or she’s confident my crazy magic can’t hurt her. Whatever it is, I’m thankful to be free and that everyone is gone. I need time alone to think.
My stomach growls, but I ignore it. I have no appetite and have barely eaten since my arrival. Earlier, I overheard two healers discussing my weight loss and how I’m wasting away. If only it were that easy to disappear.
“I’ll have lunch sent up. Something light, perhaps?” she asks.
“That sounds nice,” I say, even though the press conference, tests, and the effects of magic have left me exhausted and I would rather take a nap.
“I know this is difficult for you, but it’s for the best. We must discover everything the Light witches did to you.” Mother’s magic wraps around me like a cozy sweater. So warm and comforting. “Only then can I help you recover.”
That’s what worries me: her plans for my recovery. But I don’t let on and simply nod in agreement.
“You want that don’t you? To feel better?”
According to everyone around me, I was betrayed by the boy I loved. My whole life has been a lie. Every shared confidence, every sweet touch, every memory were just ploys to manipulate me. How am I supposed to ever feel better? Am I supposed to wake up one day and suddenly everything will be okay? Am I supposed to just forget?
I wrap a loose piece of hair around my finger and blink back tears. “I want to stop hurting,” I say. It’s the truth. I want this never-ending pain, the one the keeps me awake with my mind racing, to just go away. And right now, I don’t care what I have to do to make that happen. I simply want it gone.
A satisfied smile spreads across Mother’s face. “Of course you do. And I’ll be right here, helping you.” She glances at her wristlet. “Now, please go shower while I order your meal.”