𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 [18+]

Extra Chapter: Where The Line Blurs

Extra Chapter: Where the Line Blurs

Any fool can be happy. It takes a man with real heart to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.
― Clive Barker,Abarat: Days of Magic, Nights of War

Roses POV:

I woke up to an empty bed.

Dim light seeped through the giant glass doors, the white georgette curtains on the window fluttering in the mid spring breeze. I could make out the patterns created by the moonlight near the window. Subtle mingle musk of earth and his cologne wafted around me, ruling my senses.

Speaking of him..

I let out a yawn as I shifted to my left, only to discover an empty spot with crinkled sheets and pillows. Blinking a couple of times, I noticed the wet spots on the white pillow case.

My heart jumped into my throat as I hastily reached for the table lamp and turned it on; the yellow hue allowing me to take a clearer look.

Blood pounded frantically in my veins as it registered into my sleep induced brain that Marienne might have had a nightmare.

But after two years.

Why now?

Why did my beast have those nightmares again?

Since we got together, three years ago, Marienne never had a single nightmare. He did have panic attacks still, but nightmares were a rarity.

Panic blossomed within me as I looked around erratically, a fear bubbling within me.

How did I not notice it?

I sat up hastily as the covers slid off of me.

I bit my lips as I was made aware of my very naked body.

Since our time in Paris together, we had basically been inseparable. Marienne would make out with me whenever we were alone, although he did not mind PDA.

We seek reassurance into each others kisses, each others touches; whenever we felt loss, we would kiss, hold hand, lose ourselves into each other until we were a mess of moans, sweaty bodies and strangled whispers. We loved each other, he loved me and somewhere along the way, I fell for this deranged man.

He made me feel like I was the only woman in this word, I was the only tune to his orchestra. Without me, he was nothing but a dead instrument. He would say this after our many love making sessions- I would lay panting over him, listening to his wild heartbeat as he would whisper into my ear, You give me purpose, Roseline.

My broken knight...

Stolen glances, stolen kisses and dirty talks in bed- nothing ever got old with him.

He fought my demons, salvaged me- not caring an ounce that he had his own demons to fight. He was trying and I appreciated him.

I slipped into his white shirt that lay idly on the floor, some where along the way, I might have torn his shirt, but it was enough to save me from the cold and cover my body that was peppered with love bites.

A distinct sound of retching made my stomach clench in pain, as I slowly proceeded to the bathroom, my palms turning cold as I prayed it wasnt what I was thinking.

I turned on the light, my fingers trembling as my breaths came out in harsh pants.

Lucid light illuminated the dark corners as I saw him disgorging the content of his stomach, emptying them in the toilet.

My heart fluttered with pain as I slowly walked to him.

"Marienne," whispered.

How did I not wake up?