Thought

ue

it would b

but I don't know what else she expected. I've been on medication they have prescribed before, and it did nothing but

e. I nod at her to concentrate on her driving. It hasn't rained this heavily i

indedly. "Same old diagnosis. He might have said so

her attent

g on dying today," I comment. Della looks back at the road, but her knuckles clutc

tretch," she comments. A laugh almost s

to be the practica

is it? I mean, we live in the l

fore," Della says, turning down my street. She's right. I've witness

at has meant I can live in a beautiful house on the shoreline. Fate has the best territory in the immortal realm,

do with magic. It's probably just my messed

r open. Della follows me inside, cursing the weather, wiping water off her

clean up in here,

ff my jacket. Maybe it could be decluttered in here, but I like my space. It's crea

her arms. "I mean, do you even read any of these

the weight of my current collection. There's something so addicting about collecting books. Coming to th

r inspiratio

Turning around, I narrow my eyes on her. She st

le we whisper about attractive guys who come into the bar," I remind her, watch her raise an eyebrow at

e gets too much enjoyment out of coming to my house to criticise my livelihood

date. I've seen what you've downloaded on your computer,

despite my

est sister of all people can see right through. She knows I'm not as confident and beautiful as she i

ith their mate, or lose all chance to ever meet them. So that leaves dating t

" She asks, ignoring my deadpan expression. "You c

in me, that

ing hint. It leaves me to sit in my favourite spot to look out the window, holding a leather bound book in my hand

is troubling me. With Della's suggestion stuck

ady up on a tingle tab when I open my computer. I usually have it open, but never

o get ov

people who live in the area. This seems so foolish and pointless. None of these people

ptop on the table as I stand. As usual, Della

to make coffee, m

s a young, professional looking man who is admittedly attractive. He's simply greeted me in his message, so I quic

by cafe. By the time the conversation ended, I wa

own. But this

which is treating me well. I don't stop until midnight. It's a trend of mine to tr

awing a therapist made of one of the men i

I murmur, before swi

p with nothing going on, until all my vision becomes a blurry flurry of silver. Slowly, it begins to turn into a

ing is differen

ng. It's so real, that if it weren't for the fog in my head and the slight blurring line

silver eyes. He has reddish brown hair and honey skin. The tattoos that streak up his arm are unfamiliar, no

lessly watches me as I remain helpless, before he tur

st

, and I look around, shielding myself from the strip of su

ng al

en tied up against my will like that until I woke, as if I were being held

y. I was meant to

I were coming. Quickly I text hi

horrible gut feeling that I