by A L Makin
Reaching out, I touch the first painting of the battle scene. But as soon as my fingers make contact with the swirls of colour, I’m hit with what feels like a bolt of lightning full of pain, fear and intense despair all rolled into one giant screwed up ball of emotions. It hits me so forcefully that I lose my footing and find myself stumbling backwards. Almost instantly I feel Travis behind me, catching me as I fall back. I have no idea how he managed to get to me so quickly. But I thank my lucky stars he did, otherwise, I’d have easily smacked my head against the table behind me.
“Willow, are you ok? What the hell happened?” Travis asks, his voiced laced with concern.
For one of the first times in my life, I’m stuck for words. All I know is that I’ve just been hit with a huge ass does of emotional wreckage and it knocked me for six. But how? How the hell is that even possible? All I did was barely touch a painting. How have I managed to draw out emotion from a god damn painting? I’ve never been able to draw emotion from an inanimate object before. What the hell? ...
Travis helps as I steady myself. When he’s confident I’m not going to fall over again, he moves to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the paintings. Arching my neck to look up at him, Travis looks down at me.
“I’ll ask again shall I? What the bloody hell was that about?” he grinds out.
I attempt to feign innocence.
“What? You saw what happened. I stepped back, tripped, fell and you caught me. Simple,” I shrug.
“Don’t give me that shit Willow. You didn’t trip at all. You fell backwards as though you were pushed. So I’ll ask again. What! Just! Happened?” he spells out.
He’s not going to drop the subject until I give him the answer he’s looking for. I sigh and turn, sitting on the couch opposite Travis. He folds his arms across his chest. Pointing to the couch behind him, I motion him to take a seat. He looks behind himself and then back at me, but I don’t waiver, so he does as he’s asked. He drops heavily onto the couch, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs with fingers laced together.
“I’m waiting,” he says impatiently.
I take a quick look at the paintings hanging on the wall above his head and sit backwards on the couch. Max jumps up and makes himself comfortable by curling up next to me.
I’ve no idea how I’m going to explain this to him. He’s going to think I’m some kind of freak. I look down at my sleeve and start picking at a small loose thread. I always do this when I’m nervous.
“If I tell you, you’re going to think I’m insane and that I’ve lost the plot for sure,” I hesitate.
His voice softens. “Let me be the judge of that.”
I clear my throat as I continue to pick at the string on my sleeve. I can’t make eye contact. I can’t see the look of scepticism on his face as I tell him my truth of what I am.
“Before I tell you, you need to understand that I’m just a regular person. Just like you. But I have an … ability,” I pause for a moment as I take another deep breath. “For as long as I can remember I’ve been able to tune into people’s emotions. Feel what they feel, both emotionally and physically.”
I stop picking at the string on my sleeve and look across to Travis. He unlaces his fingers and with one hand begins to rub his chin, like in deep thought. He doesn’t speak.
“I never asked to be like this. It’s just how I was born … and it’s the real reason how I found you tonight. I wasn’t lying about looking for Max, he did run off. But when I entered the forest to look for him, I picked up your feelings of pain and I followed them until they led me here. To you,” I finish.
Silence consumes the room until I can’t stand it any longer. “Say something then.”
Travis sits back on the couch, resting his hands in his lap. “So you’re an empath,” he states a matter of fact.
It takes me by surprise. “Erm, yeah. I am. How do you know about empaths?” I ask.
He smiles at me. “Believe it or not, but I’m an educated man Willow. I know, and have seen things that you wouldn’t believe.”
Intrigued by his answer, I can’t help but ask. “So have you ever met another empath then?”
“I have. Just one though - an old lady who used to live here in the village years ago,” he pauses a moment while he thinks.
“But if I remember rightly, she never physically felt people’s emotions. Nope, that little bonus gift you’ve got is something new to me,” he smiles again.
“So I take it this isn’t common knowledge then?” Travis asks.
“No, only my brother knows … and now you of course,” I reply.
“Okay then,” he smiles and then stands back up, turning towards the bookshelf.
“Wait, what? Is that it? There are no more questions? You just accept what I say without thinking I’m some sort of freak,” I argue.
He turns back around to look at me.
“I do,” he laughs.
“As I said before, you’re not the first empath I’ve encountered. You’re ‘ability’ as you put it, is one of the more normal things that I’ve come across during my time on this round rock. Sorry if you thought your revelation would provide more drama,” he laughs again.
“Okay then,” I repeat his words as I shrug my shoulders, nothing else left to be said on the subject.
Travis turns back again to face the bookshelf, and as he turns he takes his jacket off and throws it onto the couch where he was sitting just moments ago. With his back towards me, he reaches up for a book high on the shelf. But it’s as he stretches out that I notice his wound under his slashed t-shirt looks considerably better than it did when I first found him. But how?
“Travis …”
“Yes?” he answers with eyes focused only on the books.
“Whats happened to your wound?” I ask straight.
Travis pauses for a moment before standing tall, stiff as a board.
“My wound?” he replies nonchalantly while keeping his back turned.
I slowly peel myself off from the couch and stand next to the coffee table.
“Yes, your wound. The one on your shoulder … it’s practically healed.”
If the room wasn’t so quiet, I would have easily missed it. But I hear the faintest word, “shit!”
He turns slowly, and with a serious face looks me straight in the eye. He thinks for a moment while attempting to relax.
“Well?” I push.
“I don’t know?” he shrugs. “Maybe it isn’t as bad as you first thought?” He questions.
“It looked terrible,” I argue.
“Yeah, maybe it looked that way in the other room where it wasn’t as bright. But there’s more light in here and you can see it better. It obviously isn’t as bad as it looked,” he dismisses.
He’s trying to fob me off, and I don’t know why. I know what I saw and no amount of excuses will change that. However, I decide not to push the matter. This is only the second time I’ve met Travis, and I don’t know him. I don’t sense any malicious intentions, but also I don’t know how he’d react to feeling interrogated either; so I’ll drop the subject. But I won’t forget it, and I definitely don’t believe him.
“Maybe you’re right. It probably was the light,” I agree.
He visibly relaxes, confirming that he’s withholding something. I mean, he’s not even taken any pain killers, and that was the whole reason for us coming back here in the first place. But again, I let it go, not reminding him of that fact – but not forgetting either.
I need a moment to myself, to try and process some of what’s happened this evening.
“I don’t suppose there is a bathroom in this place is there?” I ask.
“Yeah, there is. If you turn left out of this room, you’ll find it down the corridor, a few doors down on your left. Do you want me to show you?” he asks.
“No, you’re ok. I’ll find it,” I reply a little quicker than intended.
Luckily he doesn’t pick up on my tone.
/> “Ok, just holler if you get lost,” he laughs and then turns back to browsing the books. I’ve no idea what he’s looking for.
I pull out my phone from my pocket and switch on the torch. Why doesn’t this place have light switches? I grumble to myself, tired of wandering around in the dark.
Making my way out of the room, I turn to the left just as Travis instructed. My phones torch gives off a decent amount of light, and I can see that the corridor looks the same as the rest of the church, with grey stone walls and black slate floors. There are oil lamps mounted to the walls running down each side of the corridor. It gives the whole building an eerie gothic feel, looking like something from medieval times.
I pass several closed doors on each side of the long corridor, eventually making it to the bathroom. The bathroom is only a small room with a decent-sized window, toilet, sink and mirror. The window to the side of the sink floods the room in silver moonlight, so I switch off the torch to my phone and place it in my back pocket. Closing and locking the door behind me, I stand in front of the mirror staring at my reflection. I replay everything that has happened and been said tonight, trying to figure out what it is that Travis is hiding from me, and why.
Stood alone, I easily get lost in thought. I have no idea how long I’m stood staring at my dim reflection when the sound of a door being unlocked in the distance brings me back to reality. I bet Travis thinks I’ve got lost with how long I’ve been and has come to look for me. I think to myself.
I quickly run the tap and splash some cold water on to my face. It’s freezing and immediately swamps my body in goosebumps. But it does the trick perfectly by snapping me out of my trance and making me feel refreshed.
I dry my face and hands with a towel, unlock the door and leave the bathroom. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my phone as I turn into the corridor. I’m about to switch on my torch, but something up ahead of me makes me stop suddenly. There’s a light shining out from one of the rooms along the corridor.
Strange? I think to myself until I realise that it’s probably just Travis.
I walk back up the corridor towards the bright room. Stepping into the doorway, I’m surprised to see the back of a dark-haired man. He’s stood in some kind of library. Ancient looking books cover each wall and there is a large grand wooden table in the middle of the room surrounded by solid chairs.
I pause for only a split second, realising that I’ve no idea who this person is. Without thinking I dive as quietly as I can against the wall next to the open doorway, pushing my back up against it. Pressing my sweaty palms against the cold wall, my heart beats hard in my chest. I concentrate as hard as I can on steadying my breathing. A few moments pass until I’ve composed myself. My mind whirls with a million questions on who this person could be, and why he’s here?
I close my eyes and try to tune into the room. To try and get the advantage of figuring out what type of person is only a few dozen feet away from me. I try as hard as I can, but I feel nothing. I’m being blocked by something like there is some kind of impenetrable wall … but how? I’ve never had this happen to me before. This can’t be good.
I take a few quiet breaths to steady myself and re-focus my mind. Slowly I turn around to face the wall. I need to pass the doorway without being seen, to get back to the room and let Travis know we’re not alone.
Shuffling slowly and quietly, I move closer and closer to the open doorway. Reaching the large wooden frame, I curl my fingers around the edge with one hand, whilst steadying myself against the wall with the other.
The door is only halfway open, so I’m shielded from the man in the room. Taking a deep breath, I hold it and lean towards the gap in the hinge. I don’t see anything at first, but I can hear the sound of shuffling feet and pages turning. The side profile of a tall man of about 6’3”, reading a book comes into view. I study every inch of what I can see. He has black hair, which is short on the sides, but floppy on top. It’s not messy, but then it’s not perfectly styled either. His complexion is pale, just like Travis. But unlike Travis, this man’s night coloured hair utterly compliments the paleness of his skin. It’s flawless, and it’s clear to see from his toned body that he takes good care of himself. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, and from this distance, I can see his muscles flex as he walks. He’s nothing like I have ever seen before.
Walking slowly behind the large desk, he’s engrossed in the book in his hands, unaware he’s being watched from afar. He stops when he reaches the end of the desk and turns to go in the opposite direction. It’s during this time that I get the pleasure of seeing him fully. I can do nothing but stare at the truly breathtaking man ahead of me. He has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. They make him look powerful and serious, but as I focus more I see that there is no warmth there. They look as hard as ice, and just as cold.
I’m trapped, mesmerised by the sight in front of me and my breathing hitches slightly. It was only the faintest noise, but it was loud enough to break his concentration and catch his attention. His head jerks up quickly and his cold eyes instantly make a connection with mine through the hinge. Our eyes lock onto each other as we both stand fast. I’m fixed to the spot outside the room, while he remains stood behind the desk, book clasped tight between his strong fingers. We stay locked onto one other; neither one of us wavering. Further and further I can feel myself being sucked into his vice-like stare. I try to move my head, to pull away, to scream, to do anything! But instead, I stay fixed, fixed to my spot unable to move. Not a single muscle in my whole body reacts to any of my commands, it’s like I’m paralysed.
A few more moments pass until I slowly begin to feel my body shift. Inch by inch it starts to move of its own accord, without my direction.
My hand which is still resting on the door frame slides across and along the groves of the large wooden door. My hand resting against the wall follows in its wake, and before I know it I’m stood in front of the heavy door, both palms resting against it. With my view temporarily blocked, I lean forward, pushing the door open as I move.
I keep moving until there is no longer anything in our way. The door stands wide open with me in its entrance. He’s managed to work his way around the large table, and for every step I take forward towards him, he takes one towards me. Any fear I felt earlier, urges to run have left. The only urge … no, desire, I have is to keep going, to move forward and reach my beautiful stranger.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s trapped into moving too. Or is he the one who has me under this spell? We keep our eyes locked on to each other, slowly moving forward. I feel calm and willing. His bright blue eyes bore into mine and the coldness I first saw in them has gone and is replaced by eyes which seem to spit fire and passion.
Continually staring at each other, the closer we get, the more I have to arch my neck. We’re so close now that if we reached out, we’d touch. But we don’t. Instead, we keep shuffling forward. The electricity between us is intoxicating and it makes my head feel light and dizzy.
After what feels like miles travelled, we finally stop in front of one another. The smallest of space remaining between us. The pull to him is overwhelming and I’m overtaken by the desire to touch his pale skin ... to kiss his red lips. But instead, I stay stuck to my spot staring up into his bright eyes. I watch as his red lips part ever so slightly, and just the tip of his tongue snakes out quickly wetting his lips, making them glisten in the warm light.
The urge to be closer is getting to him too and it’s not long before I feel his hand draw up the side of my body. One finger slowly trailing the curve of my hip, my waist and the length of my arm. His touch is cool and it electrifies every nerve, every inch of me that it touches.
His hand continues its trail sweeping my long hair over my shoulder, tucking it behind my ear and exposing my neck. Instinctively I tilt my head to the side, and for the first time since we locked eyes on each other, he breaks our contact to look down at my exposed neck. Using the same hand, he gently reac
hes around to the back of my neck and rests it at the base of my head; fingers intertwined in my hair.
He leans in closer and rests his free hand on my hip. Whatever happens next, I no longer care. I’m willingly powerless, all his to do with however he pleases. With a small smile on my lips and the quietest groan escaping my lips, I slowly close my eyes, giving myself fully over.
His fingers dig deep into my hip as he pulls me closer. It’s only for a split-second when in that same moment, I’m forcefully grabbed from behind and pulled away. The sudden insult of our bond being broken physically hurts and I can’t help but scream out in anguish.
Immediately I regain control over my body. However, a part of my soul feels as though it’s been torn away and I crumple to the floor in a heap, my hair falling over my face as I drop my head in defeat.
The noise of things being smashed and two men shouting and arguing rings in my ears. I try to block it out, too broken to listen to what’s being said. But it doesn’t last long and the room goes quiet again.
With eyes closed, I take a deep breath trying to compose myself. A few seconds pass when I feel someone crouch in front of me, cradling my shoulders.
“Willow, are you ok? Did he hurt you?” I hear Travis ask frantically.
Travis!
With everything that’s just happened, I’d momentarily forgotten I was here with him. I look up through my hair into his concerned grey eyes. He quickly swipes the hair from in front of my face to get a better look at me. But I don’t answer. I feel torn apart.
“Willow, are you ok? Did that bastard hurt you? Please answer me,” he pleads.
Again, I don’t answer, so this time he sweeps all my hair off from my shoulders and tilts my chin upwards with his fingers. Moving my head from side to side, he inspects me closely. I have no idea what he’s looking for.
“What are you doing?” I ask quietly, confused.
