A Different Type of Ending

Feyre

I spent most of the night awake, either sitting in the bathroom or staring out the window. I listened to the voice in my head, whispering urgently about something I couldn't understand. When I looked out the window there was a chilled breeze that blew into my room, stirring the curtains on either side of me delicately. It was so at odds with the emotions toiling inside me. I let it wash over me, carrying away all the voices, all of the thoughts, all of the emotions and I gave into the soft movement. I found myself watching the shadows between the stars, wishing they would reveal the silhouette I longed to see. Of course they never did, and the dream died leaving nothing in its place to fill the gaping hole it left behind. So, slowly, everything was becoming empty, nothing more than a shell filled with swirling shadows consuming anything that dared to survive, including me. 

Now, I sat next to the window, watching the woods beyond the grounds of the manor, wondering what monsters lurked there and when they would dare to ever leave. I wondered if my own would join them if they did. I don't think mine wee natural, as the ones in the forest, instead they seemed made of something other, something not meant for this world. I couldn't control it for much longer, and I wasn't sure I would need to. I did know that when it came near the end, I would release it all to save my Court, the ones on the other side of Prythian. Then I would let it take me back to where it came from and where I belonged, in the world of the dead. I had dragged something here with me, and now it would rag me back. 

I could hear someone pacing in the hallway outside, unusual for this time of the night. It was very early morning, around two o'clock, and everyone was usually asleep. I sent out my web, feeling for who is was out there. I was surprised that it was Lucien who paced, rather loudly for his usual silent gait. I was curious, so I went to my door where I found his fist preparing to knock on the wood that had once been where my face was. He jumped and I raised my eyebrows in question. What could he possibly want at this hour and why couldn't it wait until morning?
"Feyre." He whispered quietly in greeting, and it brought back an old memory, fuelled by anger and confusion and streaked with sadness. A friend lost and a life found, a fair price for someone who deserved neither. "Why are you awake?"
"I could ask you the same thing." I whispered back, my voice hushed in fear of waking anyone else who probably didn't need to hear any of this. There were ears and eyes everywhere now, sometimes they belonged to the shadows, and sometimes they belonged to things far more sinister. He sighed,
"I'm sorry. For everything. For not doing anything about Tamlin." He looked down at his feet, fiddling with the bottom hem of his night shirt. I might have forgiven him, standing their in the dark looking like a lost puppy in need of something.
"It's ok." He looked back up at me, hope sining in his eyes, but under it I only saw what he must have been thinking when he saw me wasting away. What he must have persuaded himself was right, everything he did wrong.
"Some of those things he said, I didn't even know."
"I know."
"I did nothing."
"I know."
"I'm glad you came back despite it." I wasn't.
"I know."
"If I knew any better I'd say you didn't care."
"Care about what?"
"What Tamlin said." Anger clouded my vision again, and it swelled deep within me waking those shadows once again. 
"If I didn't care, then why would I still wish my neck snapping had ended it all." I slammed the door in his face as the reality hit me. I had wanted the end then, and I still wished for it. Tears ran down may face like a waterfall, heavier than they had ever fallen before. 
"Feyre-" He stopped himself before he continued whatever shit he was going to say. He sighed, and walked away, just like he always did, always had, leaving me drowning in the sheets of my bed and the sweet salt of my tears. I was so close to forgiving him, so close to forgiving the wolf in sheep's clothing. But, somehow, the sadness helped me. Helped me to realise the darkness inside me was of my own creation, as well as death. I still clung to it, clung to the wish I had followed the darkness rather than it following me. Still clung to those shadows, kept them from escaping. But, somehow, I had grown comfortable with their presents, they were like old friends, covering me with a protective blanket. I don't know whether I was ready to let go of them just yet, so I held them close and helped them pull me into the darkness of sleep.

The next day I woke up to blinding sunlight streaming through the window that I had forgotten to close the night before. I could feel dried tears on my cheeks, and taste their salt when I licked my dry lips. It was if the past wouldn't let me forget, even when I decided to let go, I think something would stay, some small piece of undetectable shrapnel. I stood, only to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It was horrific. My tawny brown hair was knotted and distressed, as if teased with a hairbrush. My eyes remained that stormy swirling grey like my own emotions, I quite liked them, the power they portrayed inside me in place of the weakness.My eyes wee bloodshot and slightly swollen , probably from the combination of lack of sleep and crying. I didn't have time to wash, so I tamed my hair as best I could and splashed my face with cold water to alleviate the evidence of my eyes. When I was finally happy with how I looked I replaced my mask. Show time.