Libera Me (Requiem Series)

by Fonseca, Christine

  As silent as the news has been, it is nothing compared to Nessa’s absence. Constant texts, endless messages—no matter how much I try, she doesn’t respond.

  I think of dinner, our promises, the attack. The old me would have seen everything coming. The old me would have been able to defend us.

  The old me would have killed every last assailant.

  I’m still not certain how we managed to escape. All I know is that I never want to see Nessa covered in that much blood again.

  I can’t.

  I walk into Euro, slipping into the familiar seat at the back of the class. Waiting. My skin crawls as I imagine the worst:

  Her aunt has sent her back to the shrink.

  —He can’t help you.

  She’s left school and is never coming back.

  —I won’t live without you.

  She’s remembered something of her life before

  —You’re not my Nesy.

  I cast aside every thought.

  I know who she is. Nothing will dissuade me of that truth.

  Nothing.

  The door opens and Nessa walks in, staring at the ground. She looks like she hasn’t slept since Friday night.

  Neither have I.

  She slips into the seat at our table, refusing to look up at me. I reach for her hand. A shiver runs through me when my fingers touch hers. She glances at me, her eyes filled with a feral fear that reaches into my depths, pulling on emotions I refuse to acknowledge. Things I can’t feel now. Won’t feel ever again.

  “Nessa?” I whisper. “Are you okay? I’ve been calling you. Texting.”

  “I know.” She looks away as tears fill her eyes. “I’ve been…it’s just…”

  I tighten my grasp on her hand. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything.”

  I feel the relief in her touch before it registers on her face. Releasing a deep breath, she looks at me again. “Thank you,” she says. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant.”

  Her words rip through me and the feelings lodged in the recesses of my mind, the shadows of my former self, push forward.

  Need.

  Want.

  I close my eyes, keeping my fingers threaded with hers.

  “You scared me. I didn’t know what had happened to you. Why did you leave?”

  “I had to. There were too many nightmares. I had to go home.” She looks away, tightening her grip on my hand.

  “I don’t want you to be afraid with me. Not ever.” I turn her face toward mine.

  “It isn’t you. It’s the amnesia. Not knowing who I am now. I hate it. I keep…”

  “What?”

  “Seeing things, shadows of a life I’m supposed to know. Something. It scares me.” She looks into my eyes as tears stain her cheeks. “You scare me; you’re feelings for me. You’re belief in me. It’s all too much.”

  Her words punch the air from my lungs. “I don’t care about your past, Nessa,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as anyone. “I want to make certain your future is safe. Let me help you,” I manage to get out. “Please.”

  She furrows her brow and I lean closer.

  “I can teach you to defend yourself against anything,” I whisper. “Anyone.”

  She takes in my words, her expression stoic. I wait, watching for a sign, anything to tell me what she’s thinking.

  A moment passes.

  And another.

  There’s no way for me to read her thoughts, her emotions. Not anymore. I study her face, desperate to know how to help her. Her expression gives nothing away

  Except for her eyes; they speak the truth she won’t say. A truth I crave.

  “After school, we’re going to the gym,” I say, never breaking our gaze. “You need to know how to defend yourself. Especially given everything that’s happened.”

  “I don’t think—”

  I take both of her hands in mine. She won’t face her monsters alone. “This isn’t a request.” I won’t let her be hurt. I won’t let her lose the warrior she is. “You used to know how to fight Nessa. You need to learn it again.”

  “Aydan.”

  “I know you don’t remember that life. But I do.”

  She looks away as tears again fill her eyes. I shouldn’t tell her about a life her mind will never fully grasp, but I have to. She needs to remember, for both of our sakes.

  “Nessa, listen, you don’t feel safe anymore. And I get that. But you’re stronger than you realize. And maybe, just maybe, learning to defend yourself again will unlock some of that inner badass I remember.”

  A smile curls her lips as she looks at me from under her lashes. “Badass? Somehow I doubt that.”

  “Serious badass,” I smirk.

  Nessa laughs and it sounds like music. I let it wash over me, filling every crevice. I want to hear it over and over.

  “Fine,” she says through the laughter. “Whatever.”

  “Good. We’ll go right after school. I’ll teach you a little hand-to-hand combat.”

  “You’ve been watching too many video games I think.” She laughs again and I lose myself in her, wanting the moment to never end.

  Class passes quickly as I imagine training with Nessa. Her and I, reliving a life we never had. A life out of reach. This is bound to spark her memories, help her reach that part of her mind she refuses to acknowledge.

  The final bell rings and we walk to the motorcycle as she chews her bottom lip raw.

  “Nervous,” I ask.

  “No.” She meets my eyes for only a moment before looking away, distracting herself with the helmet.

  “You’re such a liar. You’re nervous, very nervous. You needn’t be, you know. I promise I won’t hurt you.” I give her a playful shove.

  She responds with a strong punch in the arm. Her reflexes are fast, Sentinal-fast. I laugh, an act that only results in a flurry of more half-hearted punches.

  “See, there you go. Practicing all ready.”

  She huffs in a moment of playful frustration and mounts the bike. “You coming?”

  I smile and climb on the bike. Nessa wraps her arms around me, sending a familiar current of electricity coursing through my veins. I suck in a sharp breath.

  “Aydan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What if they never come back? My memories.”

  I turn, meeting her gaze. “Then we make new memories.” I run my thumb across her cheek as the air grows impossibly still.

  She doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe.

  “I won’t leave you Nessa. I love you. Not my memories of you. You.”

  She releases a breath and closes her eyes. “I hope you mean that. Because I really doubt I’ll ever know this life you claim we’ve had.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say as I softly kiss her lips.

  We leave for the gym, lost in the silence of an uncertain future.

  The gym looks all but empty when we arrive. Housed in an old warehouse, it reminds me of something from an old boxing movie. Dark clouds swirl and coalesce above us, threatening to break loose into a torrent of showers. I pull the bike into the alley flanking the building.

  “Are you sure about this?” Nessa asks as we walk into the gym. Old punching bags line two sides of the space, with a sparing ring in the center. “When you said we were going to a gym, this is not quite what I pictured.”

  “Yeah, but the ring is the best place to practice. Go and change in the locker room, then meet me back here.” I throw my bag down next to the ring and pull off my shirt.

  Nessa looks at the hall and back to me.

  “Don’t worry. It’s safe. Just go and change.”

  She shrugs and walks away. Fear seeps from her body, mirrored in her timid walk. I hate seeing this part of her. It’s foreign. Wrong.

  I climb into the ring and stretch, throwing a few punches to loosen my shoulders. The scent of smoke fills my lungs.

  “Okay. I’m ready, I guess.”

  I turn, watching as Nessa climbs in
to the ring and begins to stretch out her arms, neck, shoulders.

  “Why Nessa,” I say. “You don’t sound too enthused about this. You get to beat me up now. You’d think that would be at least a little exciting, wouldn’t you?”

  “More like you’ll be pulling me up from the ground while you pummel me repeatedly.” Nessa finishes stretching and stands in front of me. “Where do we start?”

  “Let’s start with something easy. You used to joke about being able to beat me up with little effort. I think it’ll all come back to you with a little prodding. So, let’s just start with a few blocking moves.”

  “Blocking?”

  “Yeah. I’ll throw a few punches at you, and you block them any way you can.”

  Nessa scowls in response, her brows tightly furrowing.

  “Stop worrying. I’ll go slow. You can do this.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Nessa steadies her stance, stiffening for the impending attack.

  I smile and throw a soft punch. It grazes her shoulders, knocking her off balance and sending her to the mat.

  “Dang it,” she says as her face collides with the ground. “Told you we’d be spending the hour with you pulling me off the floor.”

  “You’re just thinking too hard,” I say as I pull her to her feet. “This time, I want you to clear your mind and watch me. As soon as you feel me strike, block it. Don’t wait to see the punch. React when you feel it.”

  “Um, yeah. Okay.” She takes a new stance, still tense.

  I pull my arms and shake my head, releasing my own tension. “You need to relax, otherwise you’re going to wind up on the floor again.”

  She closes her eyes and shakes the anxiety from her shoulders. “I’m going there anyway,” she grumbles.

  I release another swing as soon as her eyes open, hoping to catch her off guard. The smell of vanilla and ash fills my senses as her arm flies up, catching my fist before it collides with her shoulder.

  “Nice! Do that again.”

  Nessa smiles as I throw a kick toward her hips. She steps back, forcing me to lose my balance. “Good,” I say, stumbling forward.

  More kicks.

  More punches.

  Nessa meets each one, blocking and ducking, settling into a familiar rhythm.

  “Yes,” I say as she dances through our practice. “Just like that. Perfect. Remembering anything yet?”

  “Not at all. And no one attacks like this, slow and controlled. I feel like we’re in a cartoon or something.”

  “Oh! So you’re ready for more then?”

  “I’m going to have to be if I’m going to understand what happened Friday night.”

  This is the first she’s mentioned the attack. I need to know what happened when I was unconscious. I stop, my gaze pinning her where she stands. “Tell me,” is all I can manage to say.

  Tears fill her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

  “It isn’t nothing. Your arms, clothes, were filled with blood and there was barely a scratch on you. What happened? And don’t tell me nothing.”

  She stares at the mat.

  “You fought back, didn’t you? You hurt them?”

  She nods. “I was so scared,” she whispers. “When the guy climbed on me. Tore at my clothing.”

  The words set my rage on fire. I didn’t know what they almost did. Didn’t know…

  “Whatever,” she says as she shakes away the demons I know she must see in her thoughts. “Let’s just step things up, okay?” She clenches her jaw, balling her hands into fists by her side. I watch the emotions drain from her expression as she becomes the Sentinal she was trained to be. “Don’t go easy on me this time.”

  “I won’t,” I say, still angry over the violence I know she endured.

  I walk behind her and she assumes a solid stance. Time slows to a halt. And I wait.

  Wait.

  The air crawls with electricity as I feel her trying to anticipate the attack. Finally, I pounce, pulling her arms behind her, immobilizing her with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. She squirms underneath my hold. Every moment of resistance awakens the part of me I hate. My neck grows hot and I know my marks are flaming to life again. I ignore the feelings flowing through me and focus on her, pulling her arms ever tighter.

  “Fight back, baby. Fight back.” The words come out as nothing more than a whisper. She gives into my hold. Her movements slow and I know I can do what I want with her.

  Resisting instincts that should no longer exist, I spin her around, her arms still bound in mine. She locks eyes with me, the color draining from her face. A tear slithers down her cheek. For a moment I am stunned. She looks so broken, so afraid—nothing like the warrior I know her to be.

  Nothing like my Nesy.

  My heart beats once...twice...as we remain locked in this moment. My thoughts war. Part of me needs to protect her; part of me wants something else.

  Something vile. Wrong.

  I swallow hard.

  And everything changes.

  Nessa’s face grows hard, her gaze, icy. She pulls her arms from my loosened grasp. The fear once etched on her face turns to rage. She strikes me, the blow landing on my arm as I block my face. A tremor vibrates through me and another blow greets the block.

  Within a moment, blows and kicks unleash at a dizzying pace. She strikes my arms, my side, my legs. Kicks, blows, punches. Her fury can’t be contained as she pummels me over and over.

  I block the attack, absorbing the anger in every move. I take a step back, then another. She has me against the ropes. There’s no escaping her rage—one caused by me. Again. Blow after blow, kick and kick, I feel every ounce of her anguish. And although I am not sure how much more I can take, one thing is certain…

  Nessa fights like a warrior.

  The endless blows continue as I wiggle out of her assault. “Nessa, stop. You’ve proven your point.”

  She gives no response save the constant barrage of more punches.

  “Nessa! Stop!”

  Her fist connects with my jaw, sending me spinning back into the ropes. I turn and duck, avoiding the next assault. “Nessa!”

  Nothing comes from her—no words, no mercy.

  Nothing except a palpable anguish unlike anything I’ve felt. Her eyes are aflame, focused on one thing.

  Injuring me.

  Maybe even killing me.

  I can’t slow her assault. My skin bends, absorbing a hatred I’ve never felt from her. Bruises already form as she pounds my body. A strong kick lands in my gut. Another to my ribs. My breathing grows shallow as the attack continues. Her attack. There is no way to stop her, no way to end this.

  Except to fight.

  My markings sizzle, urging me to end the struggle. Stop Nessa. But I won’t. Can’t. I refuse to give into that urge, no matter how strong.

  Refuse to be anything like the UnHoly. The Beast.

  “Nessa! It’s me, Aydan. Stop.”

  She grunts as she throws another punch. I catch her hand this time, turn it on itself. She spins out of my grasp, growling at me. Wiping the sweat from her brow she paces, sizing me up like I’m nothing more than her prey. I stand, frozen, refusing to engage.

  “Well?” She snarls.

  I say nothing as I stare into her eyes, trying to lose myself in them. But there is no recognition now. She is lost in some distant place, some distant memory. She launches into me again. My footing gives way as she sweeps her leg under me and sends me crashing to the mat. I land with a loud thud. She is on me in moments, unleashing hell. Blow after blow, she continues the attack. I react on autopilot, blocking as many as I can. I feel the fatigue in her strikes. A few more minutes and I should be able to regain control.

  More blows, more anguish—all directed toward me.

  Her arms tremble as the onslaught continues. Her breath comes in heavy pants. My moment is almost here. She slows her attack and I take advantage, catching her arms and spinning her onto her back. I straddle her body, pinning her. She s
quirms underneath me, her eyes still wild with a mixture of fear and anger.

  “Nessa, it’s me. You’re safe.”

  She writhes against my hold.

  “It’s me, Aydan,” I say again. “You’re safe, baby. Stop. You’re safe.”

  She slows her movements, her eyes clearing. Recognition replaces the hatred as she stops moving. Tears burst from her eyes.

  “Wh...wh...what happened? Why was I fighting you like that? H...how?”

  “I don’t know. But I don’t think we need to worry about your ability to fight anymore.” I release her arms, moving off of her. She sits up, her body trembling.

  I pull her to me as she begins to sob.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says between sobs. “I don't know—”

  “Shh. It’s okay. Shh.”

  She pours her sorrow into my chest. I want to hold her forever, make her feel safe. An impossible task, I fear. There is something so broken now, something I don’t fully understand and can’t reach.

  Something that will never allow her to feel safe again.

  She pulls away after a moment, wiping her tears along the back of her hand.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I ask, trying to hold a smile in my voice. “What was in your mind while you were attacking me?”

  Fear clouds her features again. “Nothing, really. It was more like instinct. One minute I felt you behind me and the next all I could think about was hurting you. It scared me.” Nessa pulls her knees to her chest, looking more like a little girl than someone who just beat me up. “I don’t remember ever feeling like that before. It was as though someone else directed my movements. Made me hurt you. I kept hearing you ask me to stop, and I couldn’t.” She closes her eyes. “I sound crazy,” she whispers.

  “Not crazy. Just confused. Your memories are starting to come back.”

  She stiffens, inhaling a deep sob. “I refuse to believe that. I’m not a killer. These can’t be my thoughts. They can’t be.” The tears come faster. “This isn’t me,” she says through strangled sobs.

  How do I tell her she is a trained assassin for Celestium, a Sentinal whose job it is to kill? How do I help her see that her memories are real?

  “It’s okay,” I say, wrapping her into another embrace. “You’re not a killer. You wouldn’t have killed me; I know you wouldn’t.”