My Long Lost Mate

The sound of fire crackling woke me up from my deep slumber, pulling me from the darkness of sleep. I fluttered my eyes open, feeling the heaviness of my lids. Blinking my eyes, I took a few moments for them to be accustomed to the overwhelming brightness that took over me.

After a few minutes of regaining consciousness, I finally felt the warmth around me. It was comforting, after so long being in the cold. What was beneath me was no longer the hard prison floor but a soft, comfortable bed.

I glanced to my side, finding Luke, who was fast asleep on the chair next to my bed. Despite being asleep, his hand was holding mine as if he was scared of losing me. A feeling of relief swept over me the moment I saw him by my side. His presence made me realize that I was now safe from any danger.

Feeling no strength in my body, I tried moving my hands to see whether I could move them or not. Only after a slight rise on my fingers, the man who was previously asleep stood up abruptly. He woke as if there was an emergency as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing to do.

Upon waking, he immediately turned to me, greeting me with his brilliant red eyes. The relief was visible on his face when he noticed I had woken up.

"Violet?" he called out, his eyes were brimming with tears. He immediately pulled me into his embrace, holding me close as if he will never let go, "Thank you—thank you for coming back to me."

"I never meant to leave you," I replied, hugging him back with the little strength I had.

How could I leave when you were my peace and comfort?

I've never imagined being in someone's arms could make me feel this happy, this safe. It felt like everything will always be okay, even if the world was falling apart.

The hugs he gave could never be long enough for me. It felt like whenever I was in his arms, all of my pain disappeared, replaced by the feeling of security and contentment. There was nowhere else that I would rather be than in his arms. When the distance between our bodies grew further, I felt myself yearning for more of his warmth.

"I-I don't know what will I do if I ever lose you," he quivered, "I don't want to lose you."

His words held so much sincerity, so much kindness that I've never received from other people. When people hurt me, he healed my wounds. When people didn't care, he cared. When people hated me, he loved me.

He pulled me from the darkness I was in and showed me the light I had never seen before. He was different, and I was more than thankful for that.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, pushing me slightly away to take a glimpse of my face.

"Good," I answered, but Luke didn't seem convinced by my words, "Just a little weak and a bit of pain here and there," I smiled wryly at his worry.

"I'm sorry, I really am," he sighed. His hands went up to my cheeks, ċȧrėssing them softly, "It must have been so scary."

The few words he said threatened the tears that I've been trying so hard to hold since the moment I woke up. I didn't want to cry in front of him. I didn't want to look even more vulnerable than I already was. How is it that he could always manage to break down the walls I build up all this time?

"I'm... fine," I ȧssured. "I am used to these kinds of things."

"If that was the truth, then how come you are crying right now?" he quired, wiping my cheeks from the tears I unknowingly let out. His brows drew together when his eyes bored into me.

I touched my cheeks, realizing that it was wet from tears. I have unknowingly cried, and now that I realized, I couldn't seem to stop them from falling. Luke pulled me back to the warmth of his embrace, softly patting my shoulders while I cried furiously in his arms.

I cried as if there was no tomorrow. The cry that came from my mouth was hysterical, as it consisted of all of my pain and sorrow. I let out all of the raw emotions that I could not bear to contain any longer in my every scream, unraveling every memory that shattered my heart into pieces every time I recalled them.

I was breaking, again and again, that I had become scared of my own vulnerability. But those tears were what kept me alive in the furnace of this never-ending pain. It helped me to cleanse my soul from all of the bottling emotions that gnawed at me bits by bits until what was left was an empty shell, ready to be filled with better things inside but only to be let down every time.

"No one is going to get used to being tortured, no matter how many times they went through it. No one should."

...

"Are you calmer now?" He asked, to which I nod. He gently rubbed my swollen eyes, then proceeding to plant a soft kiss on both of them.

"It was scary," I admitted, my voice hoarse from all the screaming, "I was scared that I won't be able to see you again, to hear Andrew's silly jokes, to eat Bob's delicious meals."

"The same goes for me, love," he ċȧrėssed my hair, tucking a lock of them behind my ear, "I might really go mad if I ever lose you."

The honesty in his words was apparent when I look at his current state. His hair was as wild as a jungle, ruffled, and untamed. A few stubbles of his growing beard covered his initially clear face, causing him to look less neat than usual. He looked haggard and visibly thinner, like he had missed a few days of sleep and meals.

"How long have I been out?"

"Three days," he stated, his eyes never leaving mine even for a minute. "You must be hungry. I will go ask for some food," he said before walking to the door, sending out his order to the servant standing outside of the room.

Surprisingly, that was not as long as I expected it to be. Based on my experience, whenever I black out after receiving my dad's act of love, a week had passed by since the actual occurrence happened—or at least five days at the minimum. I was still wondering how my body endured all that pain for as long as nine years. And now this.

Should I thank God for still letting me live, or should I curse him for giving me so much pain and suffering?

"Where is this place?" I asked, looking around the unfamiliar room.

The room was ample, decorated with mostly the color of red and gold. A huge chandelier was hung in the middle of the room, emitting a soft yellowish light throughout. A few paintings of a mountain covered the surrounding walls, high in quality and big in size. The view outside of the windows only showed the sight of trees and the sky, which made me ȧssume the room was located somewhere on the upper side of the building. By the end of the room, there stood a bathroom where I was really itching to go.

"We are in Gordom," Luke poured water into an empty glass, offering it for me to drink.

Instead of accepting it, I slapped his outstretched hand, causing the glass to fall off his grip and shattered into pieces when it connected with the floor. Beads of sweat started to appear on my forehead while my heart felt like it was pounding out of my ċhėst.

"Violet? Are you okay?" Luke rushed to my side, grabbing my shoulders to help me balance my body.

"I-uh... I'm fine," I panted, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, "I'm sorry," I glanced at Luke, forcing a smile in the hope of easing his worry.

"Hey, it's okay, no need to be sorry," he soothed, again pulling me back to his arms. His arms wrapped around my body perfectly, his palms gently patting on my back to calm me. I felt like I was being cocooned in his embrace, and it was one that was better than that of any buŧŧerfly-to-be.

"Breath," he instructed, drawing my head closer to lean on his ċhėst. I closed my eyes, focusing entirely on my breathing. His rhythmical pats, his soft breathing, his deep, husky voice were better than any medicine a doctor could ever give to me.

At this moment, I realized that home was not a place but a person.

And he was my home.