A mask on my face and another beneath
Ripping them off like I’d rip my own skin
Nicholas felt for the handle and opened the car door, shifting his feet on the grass. His head spun again as he lifted himself out and took a few uncertain steps, his arms extended in front of him. Elodie’s slightly laboured breathing came from the back seat. Every night it was a little coarser, a little heavier.
Night or day made no difference to him. For him, it was always dark. He advanced until his hands felt something hard and rough – tree bark. He stepped towards the tree and leaned against it, his strong frame disappearing among the shadows. For a minute or so he stood still, listening hard to make sure he was alone. When he was satisfied, he took a deep breath. To his shame, his breath ended in a silent, terrified sob. He tried to calm his heart, but it was no use. The worst threat, the worst pain, was not outside of him: it was inside his head. There his father, the King of Shadows, could always reach him. No weapons, no magic, nothing could keep him out. Since he’d betrayed his father to save Sarah and her friends, Nicholas had been locked in his own personal hell.
He clasped his hands together to try to keep them from shaking. His body remembered what happened the last time he’d spoken to the King of Shadows, the burning pain of the brain fury that lasted for days and nights and broke him from the inside. And took his sight away.
His mind put up barriers, desperately. It wouldn’t let himself go there. But he had to. He had to speak to him.
He whimpered softly in the dark, forcing his thoughts into shape, forcing his mind to destroy every wall leading to his father’s consciousness. And finally, he succeeded. He was steady and calm as he heard the King of Shadows’ voice resound in his mind.
“Father,” he whispered in the darkness. “It’s me. I’m sorry. I’m back. I’ve come back to you.”