~Peregrine Storke~
My fingers clung to the rope, the rough fibers tearing into my skin. My heart felt like a heavy lump in my throat, my chest tightening. It made it hard to breathe, and I sobbed, my lips pinched together.
My bare feet hit the water first, my legs sinking into the twirling blackness. It was cold, the water, its hungry swirls eating me alive.
Despite every effort not to, I began to cry.
The rope in my hands went rigid, and I grit my teeth against the sudden pull, my skin protesting. My arms burned.
“Hold on, Perri! For God’s sake, hold on!” Foster yelled.
There was a violet glow, and the overwhelming taste of watermelon. “I’m here,” Nimble murmured, her lips pressed together, her wings beating furiously. She was taking a risk flying down into the well. One drop of water, and she’d forget everything.
I shook my head frantically, my lips tight. I was too afraid to speak, too afraid a spray of water would make it into my mouth. There’d been a lot of things about my life I’d wanted to forget. I didn’t anymore. The bullying, the struggle with my weight, my father’s yells, and my mother’s indifference … they’d all made me into the person I was now. Rather than weakening me, they had made me stronger.
My frantic gaze went to the surface, to the face peering down at me from above. I didn’t want to forget Awkward. I didn’t want to forget Foster.
His face was too far away to see clearly, but I saw his arms tighten, his elbows bracing as he began to pull on the rope. The muscles in my arms ached, the throbbing pain unbearable. My arms weren’t strong enough to support the rest of my body.
The rope continued to lift. Nimble fluttered near my face, her lips as tightly closed as mine, her worried gaze searching my face. Even if she wanted to help, she couldn’t do anything other than be there. It was enough.
My hips cleared the water, my dripping tunic weighing me down.
Foster kept pulling. “Hold on!”
Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, my lashes falling against my cheeks, numbers flying through my head. It’s what I often did when running or working out, when the pain got too much. I closed my eyes and counted, each number taking me closer to the finish.
My fingers began to slip just as my feet cleared the water.
“Don’t you dare let go, Peregrine Storke!” Foster ordered, his voice firm and unrelenting. “Don’t you dare let go!”
I scrambled to keep my grip on the rope. There was blood now, the fluid making it hard to maintain my hold. My palms burned, and my muscles were stretched to their limit. My sobs increased, my lips trembling.
Nimble flew close, her hands rubbing my cheeks. There was love in her touch. Simple, innocent love.
Foster’s breath came in spurts, his arms bulging. The opening grew closer, the light from the moon sending silver tendrils down the slick stone walls. I could see Foster’s face now, could make out his tense jaw and sweat-covered brow. He stared down at me.
My fingers slipped again, sliding an inch down the rope before my hands caught me. More tears slid down my cheeks.
“Look at me, Perri!” Foster cried.
My face lifted, my gaze finding his. The pain wasn’t limited to my arms anymore. It was in my shoulders now, too. My legs hung below me, completely useless. My feet had kicked the bucket loose on the way down, and there wasn’t enough rope for my legs to grab a hold of. There were only my arms.
“You can do this,” Foster called down. “Hold on, Perri! Don’t you dare give up on me now.”
My hands tightened on the rope, my eyes squeezing shut. The blood was making my palms slick, and I felt them beginning to give. There was nothing but me and the darkness, the fear of falling, and the knowledge that one drop of water could make me forget everything.
A breeze touched my face, my lashes beginning to lift when my arms gave up the fight, my palms sliding down the rope.
Tears.
A rope.
Nothing except air.
A hand grasped my wrist, the hold tight and uncomfortable.
“Your other hand, Perri. Give me your other hand,” Foster ordered.
I exhaled, the sound shaky.
My gaze lifted, my eyes meeting his. I reached for him. My abused palm stung as his hand closed around mine.
He tugged me upward, my feet clearing the top of the well before he finally let go. I fell into him, my battle with tears long lost. The sobs weren’t pretty. They were ugly and loud. They were awkward tears, the kind followed by hiccups and choking gasps. My hands touched Foster’s chest, my palms leaving streaks of blood on his skin.
He grabbed my face. There was guilt in his eyes, but neither of us said anything. His bloody knuckles, my palms, the horror in his gaze … it was enough. The memory of the night was forever burned into our flesh. There’d be scars we couldn’t erase.
His thumb swept my cheek. “After everything we’ve been through here, and a well full of water makes you cry?”
It was Nimble who answered him. “It’s not a normal well,” she said. “It’s the Well of Forgetfulness. One drop of water and you forget everything.”
Foster’s eyes searched mine. “Perfection?”
“No,” I choked, “the well is all mine. I drew it.”
The tears kept coming.
“The Well of Forgetfulness,” he murmured.
The words when they came were almost incoherent. “I don’t want to forget anymore,” I sobbed. “I don’t want to forget any of it.”
There were hidden meanings in my words. Too many hidden meanings.
Foster’s hands tightened on my face, the blood from his knuckles mixing with the tears on my face.
He shook his head. “Damn these walls.”
With that, he kissed me.
It wasn’t a pretty kiss. It was ugly, his lips catching my sobs, his kiss swallowing my tears.
Behind us, the well continued to churn, the water hitting the walls. It sounded an awful lot like a toilet flushing. The Well of Forgetfulness.
Somehow, laughter replaced the tears. It was hysterical laughter mingled with desperate kisses, blood, fear, and relief.
I didn’t want to forget.
“Damn these walls.”
Chapter 24
“That awkward moment when you realize the villain you should have drawn into your story was yourself.”