Elements of Fire Book One by Odette C. Bell

Elements of Fire Book One by Odette C. Bell

Author:Odette C. Bell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Odette C. Bell


7

All thought of fighting Richard has completely gone. All of the arguments that have been playing in my head about how unfair this is have completely withered up and died.

I’ve just been left with… hopelessness.

I’ve never been a particularly depressed soul. Despite the fact I haven’t had much verve in my life, I’m not somebody who thinks existence is pointless.

But as I sit on the edge of my bed, shoulders crumpled in, sweaty hands clamped in my lap, a sense of pure, soul-shredding dread wraps around me.

I feel cold. So cold. It’s not the coldness of the body so much as a coldness that invades every experience I’ve ever had and everything that makes me who I am. Maybe that sounds crazy and you can’t understand what I’m talking about, but try. What I saw this morning has canceled out every belief I’ve ever had. My natural sense of order, of rule. That sense that lets people live their lives and gives them hope that tomorrow will be a better day. Yeah, it’s gone now.

I don’t even bother to rub my hands up and down my shoulders. What’s the point?

My door is open, and I can hear Richard talking on his phone to somebody. He periodically pushes the door a little further open, checks me, then goes back to what he’s doing.

His expression is grim. It’s been grim ever since the fight.

During the car ride back, he didn’t speak to me once. Which is saying something. Because I could tell from his expression that he wanted to admonish me for running out of the store like that.

Now it’s obviously the furthest thing from his mind. Because now I can see his concern.

Richard continues his conversation for a few more minutes, then finally hangs up.

I hear a creak as he pushes the door all the way open. He stands in the doorway, trying to make eye contact with me.

I don’t look at him. I continue to stare at my hands.

He lets out a sigh. It’s different to the long-suffering, frustrated sighs he’s been giving me all day. There’s a saddened edge to it. “Look, I know you want to know what happened back there, and I want to tell you, but you need to… understand how dangerous that was. And you need to promise me one thing,” he says, leaving his question hanging.

It finally does it – finally gets me to look up at him. “What?” I croak.

“You will never do something as dangerous as that again. I understand that you’re confused. Understand that you don’t know how powerful your magic is yet,” he says through a hard breath, “but you need to be patient. You need to trust me,” he emphasizes, “and you need to learn.”

Though that god-awful dread is still marching through me, undoing every positive belief I’ve had about myself and the world, there’s something in his tone.

It ignites my frustration again. My bewilderment, too. I look up at him, tears forming in my eyes and yet anger sparking through them, too.



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