Luna lines

CHAPTER 5:CLEARED DOUBTS

What the hell is that? I asked in an alarmed tone as I took a shaky step backwards out of fear. Lucien doesn't respond as his eyes peruse the symbol on my door. His expression is unreadable as he crouches low, his fingers tracing the carvings on the door. The marks seem to come alive beneath his finger, as I'd, they have a will of their own. My stomach churns with a mixture of fear and nausea, the awful scent from the expired paint growing stronger until I can practically taste it at the back of my throat. “What does it mean?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “There are tracking sigils.” Lucien responds in a clipped tone. Ancient magic used to find objects of power. They've marked the inkwell and, by extension, you. “Who marked it?” I asked in a worried tone as my eyes flitted back to the symbols on my door.

I have no idea. It could be the Obsidian Order, or it could be the inkwell creating a connection with you. I'm not sure. Lucien says as his gaze flies back to mine.

But one thing I know for sure is that we aren't safe here. We have to leave. Lucien says as he bypasses me and steps into the house. Oh my God! What is he talking about?! I can't leave! Even though I'm being tormented here by the townspeople, this is still my home. The only place I've ever known. “I can't leave! I can't allow some faceless organization to drive me out of my own home! I said in an indignant tone, waving my hands around for emphasis. Do you even understand the severity of this whole situation? Do you understand that you could be killed?! Lucien asks in an incredulous tone, as though he is shocked that I'm not taking all this seriously enough. The only chance of survival you have is me, Lucien says with a tone of finality. But I don't know that now, do I? All the information I have concerning the inkwell has been given to me by you. Meanwhile, you are just a figment of my imagination! I said in a heated tone as I glared at him. How can I trust any word that comes out of your mouth?! How do I even know that this is all happening?! What if I'm just hallucinating? Having a bad dream that just won't end? I ask in a shaky tone as I realize that I'm spiraling out of control, falling down the deep end of craziness. I'm just so scared! It's not like I planned all this. If I had a way to trade all this to have my peaceful life back, I would do it. “If you think I've been lying to you all this time, you can test the veracity of my statements yourself.” Lucien says in a solemn tone as he gives me a cold look. Write something. Anything. And watch it come to life. Lucien says in a harsh tone as he gives me a daring look. My eyes move to the window and I take note of the fact that the day is almost fully bright now. I nod my head in acceptance of his challenge as I stalk towards my writing desk. I take out an empty piece of paper from one of the drawers and I place it carefully on the table before me. I noticed Lucien leaning over my shoulders as I dip my pen into the ink. I took a deep breath before bringing the pen closer to the paper. Do I dare? Can I really do this? There's no question in my mind as to what I'm going to write. I've always imagined what it would be like to have the acceptance and love of the people around me. What would it be like if people like Josh didn't pick on me just for the fun of it? I flick my wrist, forming a word on the paper. The words start to flow freely as I write about a reality where Ria reports Josh to the authorities for what he did to me, and then he is brought down to my house and forced to apologize before he is carted off to a correctional facility. I am writing about the old lady living opposite me. About what it would be like if she were to be concerned about my well-being. How it will feel like for her to give me food, not because I'm starving, but just because she is concerned about my well-being The doorbell snaps me out of my writing haze that seems to envelop me every single time I make use of the inkwell.

My eyes fly to Lucien’s smug ones and I head towards the door. “Who is there?!” I asked in a scared tone as I pulled open the door only a fraction just to see who's actually on the other side. Good day ma'am. Do you recognize this young man? The police officer asked in an extremely polite tone. My eyes flew to the young man currently handcuffed and held onto by the police officers. “Yes — yes I do. His name is Josh. I said in a choked tone as I waited with bated breath for the officer's next statement. A report was made by a concerned citizen that he was caught harassing you. Is that true? The officer asks as he glares at Josh, who looks extremely sober and remorseful. “Yes. Yes it's true. I say in a brave tone shocked out of my mind that everything I wrote is currently happening. Why didn't you report it yourself? I can assure you that we would have caught him much sooner! The officer says as he looks pitifully at me. “Apologize to this young lady right this minute!” The officer says as he slaps Josh on the back of his head. “I'm — I'm sorry, Emma. I don't know what came over me, but I won't be bothering you again. Josh says in an honest tone that causes raw anger to flash through me. Why couldn't he be this sorry without the influence of the inkwell?! “It's okay, I forgive you.” I said in a calm tone that did nothing to expose my inner turmoil. The officer nods his head at me before dragging Josh back to the police car. Just as the car zooms off, the old lady who lives across from me comes bounding out of her door with a bowl in her hands. “You have to promise to eat this, because you really need to get fatter.” The old lady says in an admonishing tone when she gets closer to me. “Thank you, very much.” I said, almost choking on the words. The lady places the bowl in my hand before going on her way. I slam the door closed behind me as I lean on the door, barely able to hold myself up due to the shock of everything that is happening. My eyes found Lucien’s glowing ones, and for a moment I expected to see a mocking look on his face. “What — what are we going to do?” I asked in a shaky tone, the severity of the whole situation finally crashing down on me.