Alpha [Epsilon #3] {ON-HOLD}

|03| Remorse

(n.) deep regret or guilt for a wrong committed

I had a lot of time on my hands, and that meant a lot of time spent thinking. Glued to my bed, I lay there as the thoughts ran circles around my mind – each one yelling over the top of the other, never making coherent sense. All the same, they each had a common associated feeling, a front at which they all united.

Remorse.

It was all I felt nowadays. But for what, exactly? Well... I didn't have a definitive answer. My feelings had become a mess of push-and-tug, representing two sides of a war in my head. A war between two girls, and where my heart truly lay...

Except, my heart seemed to lie dead centre of them both, in no-man's land, because it couldn't decide who it felt worse about. Kyra, who I'd dishonoured with my actions – or Laura, whose promise I'd broken in a moment of need. A promise that was over seven-hundred years old.

I knew it was irrational to feel bad about breaking that promise. I'd needed to save Kyra in her moment of near-death, and I'd done exactly that. I didn't regret doing that. Not one bit. If she'd died, I couldn't have lived with myself. Hell, I would do it a hundred times over if I had to. Still, even with all my best intentions at heart... I'd betrayed Laura. I'd betrayed her memory. The mate bond was the one thing I'd promised to her, and I'd given it away. For all the right reasons, I'd given it away – and I didn't regret doing so – but I'd still broken that promise regardless.

I pushed a pillow against my face. What a stupid thing to be dwelling over. For a seven-hundred-and-forty-one-year-old, you'd think I'd have a better grasp on my emotions. But hell, when it came to Laura and Kyra, I was nothing more but a confused teenager.

I removed the pillow from my face, staring across the bed to where Kyra once slept. I never got a chance to amend my words, to explain myself. That if there had been absolutely no way to get rid of Azriel's corruption, then of course I would have placed the mate bond on her. Without a doubt, I would have freed her from that man. But that hadn't been reality. There'd been another option, another way out. Killing Azriel meant I could have rid Kyra of his bond and kept my promise to Laura. It was what I'd intended, what I'd been going for.

But it hadn't turned out that way, and I was sure Kyra wouldn't want to hear my lame-ass excuses, anyway.

I turned on my side, and at that moment, a pang of pain shot down the bond. I squeezed my eyes shut. I'd been feeling Kyra's emotions relentlessly – to the point where I couldn't tell the difference between mine and hers. Feeling her pain crushed my soul, and that was only worsened by the knowledge that I had a part to play in her despair. Some nights, I'd feel the fear from her night terrors shoot down the bond, and I'd have to physically restrain myself from going to her.

Because I'd lost that privilege. I'd lost it the moment I chose Laura over her.

Still, feeling her pain killed me, which was so fucking hypocritical because what did I expect to happen? And yet I still felt it all the same, in the depths of my heart – right next to where my remorse for Laura lay.

I wanted to make it up to Kyra. I had to make it right to Kyra – it was what she deserved. I didn't expect her to forgive me, or for her to magically fall in love with me again. Not at all – I'd seen the resentment in her eyes enough times to know she hated my guts. Even so, I had no idea where to start. Not when Laura still haunted my dreams, her face just as clear as the day I'd lost her. Not when I couldn't let go of the life I'd lost with Laura, despite all the years that had come between.

Letting go of Laura... it seemed impossible. Just thinking about it felt like a betrayal of its own.

Growling, I shook myself from the thoughts and rolled off the bed. The moment I dropped to the floor, my fingers began searching the floorboards under my bed. They traced the familiar outline of a jutting floorboard and, grabbing the edge, I pulled. The wood lifted away, and with two hands, I grabbed the buried object and pulled.

I fell back with a grunt, the trunk clattering the floor before me. I coughed as dust and debris rose into the air, and for a moment, I just stared at the trunk. The leather was worn, and the once-golden clasps had browned with age.

I blew out a shaky breath before deftly undoing the buckles and throwing the trunk open. Immediately, the faint scent of lavender and rosewater greeted me. Her scent. For just a second, I was thrown back to another time, another place, where the sun shone brighter and there were no wars. Just joy. A deep ache formed in my chest, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe.

Then, I returned to the present. Blowing out a long breath, I looked down to the contents of the trunk. Everything in it was hers. I'd kept as many of her belongings I could find after she died, for fear that she'd truly disappear if I didn't. Clothes, jewellery, trinkets... anything to keep her memory alive, to keep her real.

A lump formed in my throat. My hands instantly went to the golden claw clip resting upon the mound of her folded dresses and skirts. I turned it over in my hands, sucking in a sharp breath as I saw the aquamarine stones embedded in its surface gleamed back at me. They were the exact shade her eyes had been – it was why I'd bought it for her in the first place, all those years ago. She'd called me cliche when I told her, and even now, I could see the disbelief written on her features.

I chuckled at the memory, but the laughter quickly died in my throat.

Swallowing, I put down the clip and picked up another object. A silver necklace with a ruby pendant that shone fiercely despite the years. I could almost see it on her now – resting in the divot of her neck, the crimson stone bringing out the rosy tint of her cheeks. I shut my eyes and held onto that image, but then I thought about Kyra, and the image disappeared as guilt wrapped around my insides. I opened my eyes and winced, gently placing the necklace back into its place.

I expelled a long breath through my nose, my heart rate ticking up a notch as my hand hovered above the case – debating whether I should go deeper. If I should dig past Laura's belongings to the memories that awaited me the bottom – the ones which hurt the most.

Almost without thinking, I pushed Laura's belongings aside, exposing the bottom compartment of the trunk.

My heart sunk with that familiar, awful dread. With trembling fingers, I wrapped my hands around the tiny, baby-blue hoodie at the bottom. Slowly, I hauled it up, holding it before my face. For a few moments, I just stared at it, running my thumb absent-mindedly over the plush material – still as soft  as the day I'd bought it.

Baby clothes. Baby clothes that never around to being worn.

Sam...

At that moment, the dagger in my heart twisted, and that centuries-old pain that always resided in me burst to the surface. Gasping, I threw the hoodie back into the trunk and slammed it shut, my fingers trembling as I pushed it back into its compartment and hastily replaced the wooden plank. I stood the moment it was out of sight, backing away from the spot as though it contained a curse. And maybe it did. Maybe it was my curse; one that I couldn't get rid of if I tried.

The curse of my past.