The Diary of Elliot Parker

.: Entry Eighty-Five :.

My name is Elliot Parker, except not here it’s not. Here I am Ellianor Parkrovia.

As of five minutes ago, I am the Queen, and I am furious.

“You lied” the words tumble out of me, before I pull myself back. The disbelief causes a fog buzzing in my ears, I can’t think, not logically, not as a queen. My anger is evident to even a blind man. I am radiating a fiery heat of anger, the room is hotter, not just me, the air around me shimmers from the anger bubbling like the volcano burning my skin. My blood feels thick; it itches in my veins. I know there is no way I could manage a mask with this rage bursting me at the seams. The focus of my anger, a new found intense hatred I know I can’t escape. Our fates are bound and all I want to do is kill him, my husband of fifteen minutes ago.

The guests around the room are a deadly silence, waiting. I can feel hands on me pulling me away from the lifeless forms of my parents. Their touch on my burning skin feels like ice, cutting through the heat creating a new agony. I spring free of them and launch myself at my husband his lies fill the air and I can feel myself choking.

I wake up in a cold sweat. I look at the sleeping figure next to me. The boat rocking gently. I place my hand over his heart and reach into where his dream should be, but it’s a dreamless sleep for him, until now. I slowly pour the dream into him, so he sees every fraction of a second from my eyes. I push every feeling into him. He begins to wriggle under my hand trying to free himself of the dream. It’s not a safe process. I can see the vein in his neck twitching faster. He is drowning in my grief. I pull myself away slowly and let the dream sit and settle and he begins to wake. I lay still next to him, pretending to be asleep.

I feel him looking at me, watching. I turn over so my face is hidden, his fingers fumble in my hair, pulling strands from my face, laying it out behind me.

I feel the pain of the dream beginning to fade, I remind myself what it was, a dream, nothing more.

The fingers rearranging my hair have stopped, for a moment. I take a deep breath, a relaxed at ease feeling takes over as I release the dreams hold over me completely. The moonlight is swaying from the sea. I feel the soft fingers return to my skin, being so gentle that they could barely be there, I remember the island cave. The closeness, the protection, the lie.

His fingers are replaced by his lips, it’s harder to fight the hurt of the lie. His kisses fall behind my ear, at the back of my jaw, down the side of my neck. I can’t help it, the shiver down my spine made me move, I roll back on to my back and open my eyes. I could feel him near me before my eyes adjusted to the newfound darkness, the moon behind a cloud. His face so close to mine that his breath crossed mine for a brief second before his lips were on mine. Is this what guilt looks like?

I stop the kiss. Before weakness over takes me and I start a new one. Its hungrier than I meant it to be. I pull away a little and he follows after me and pulls me back into a kiss that could have lasted forever. If it wasn’t for that nagging inside of me that kept yelling that I can’t trust him. The dream showed me that. The dream.

I back away completely and turn my head. I can hear the frustration in his sigh. My own frustration is torn; I pull him towards me for another kiss. Get some control of yourself. I am fighting myself when I kiss him and when I don’t. I’m fighting myself more than I fight him and no matter what there is no way I can win. Fighting myself is frustrating. I pull away and this time I stand putting distance between us I walk across the cabin, not far, but far enough that we aren’t touching.

“This is ridiculous.” His voice is breathy and frustrated. He isn’t wrong, but letting myself kiss him feels twisted. I hate him and want him all at once. I respect and despise him all at once and I can’t decide what I feel most consistently. His presence is a destructive storm around me, seductive and alluring but ready to decimate whatever I feel. I can’t decide how I feel about him or how I am meant to feel about him. One minute I want him more than anything, the next I want him out of my life for good. More often than not, I want him, the best of him. I want the man I believed, believe in. I want to be near him, to feel that strange buzzing energy in my body that flows from head to toe. The way his lips press on mine, the way his hungry kisses make me forget whatever was on my mind. The way his touch sets my skin on fire at every tiny point of contact. The way I feel safe and on edge all at once when we are alone.

The fog is lifting in the room, for me at least. I sit on the edge of the bed; his fingers graze the small of my back reaching out for me. I sit back and finally lay down next to him. My back to him, I reach behind me and take his hand in mine before getting comfortable again. “The one thing, I hate the most about you, you make me love you.” My voice drowsy as sleep pulls me back under.

The Diary of Elliot Parker Part Three is now available for pre-order on amazon! Out on the 11th November… here is the UK link https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B075VSBT3Q

Here is the US link https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075VSBT3Q

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