Part VIII

Artemis couldn’t sleep no matter how she positioned herself in the one-size too large bed. She couldn’t get comfortable—either it was too many blankets or too little. Sighing, she rolled over and stared at the ceiling, trying to will her body to sleep.

It wasn’t working. It never had.

She stood up and walked for the door. She knew the nightmares would haunt her if she did manage to sleep. If she could avoid another horror-ridden night, she would do it.

As the familiar creaks of the steps greeted her, she jogged down to the foyer where she pulled her hair up into a messy bun and headed for the living room. Seneca was still there, head propped up by his fist as he leaned back on the couch. The news was on but he didn’t seem to be paying attention.

She sat down on the opposite side of the couch, pulling a pillow onto her lap to hold. He glanced at her, not saying anything for a moment.

“I thought you went to bed,” he spoke.

She nodded slightly. “I can’t sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” he laughed quietly. The blue light from the television gave his silver hair sea blue tint and the images shown on the screen reflected in his clear eyes.

“Yeah,” she muttered, agreeing.

She didn’t want to sleep either but she knew she needed to. Tonight would be long without getting any rest and tomorrow would be hard. She knew Seneca couldn’t stay for forever but a small part of her hoped that he would once more be selfless and stay.

She didn’t necessarily trust herself to be alone. Too many times she had done stupid things out of depression and loneliness. She knew that this time would be no exception and didn’t know what she would impulsively do.

Turning her attention to the news at hand, she tried to pay attention to something else besides the fact that she couldn’t sleep.

“So we have some exciting news!” the news anchor crowed.

Her co-worker plastered a fake smile on. It was so wide that it looked painful. Artemis had no clue how shows like this got good enough ratings to stay on air. Maybe the people that watched it were just like her—looking for something to distract them from their hellish reality.

“Ooo,” the other woman threw her hands in the air. Artemis didn’t know her name but she looked like a Summer to her so she decided to think of her as one. “What is it?”

The other replied, reminding Artemis of a Jennifer. “So you know that piano prodigy that seemed to disappear for the past seven months?”

Summer nodded over-exaggeratedly. “Hey, Hayden Hills, right?”

Artemis straightened, interested. “Wait, who?”

Seneca studied her, a small smirk appearing on his face. “Do you know the guy? Are you a fangirl?”

He poked her in the side, teasing her but she smacked his hand away, glaring at him. He retreated with a pout and curled up on his square of the couch.

“Yes!” Jennifer laughed and turned her attention to the camera. “We’ve gotten an insider scoop that he will be attending his father’s business banquet tomorrow.”

Summer let out a sound, one that Artemis assumed was from excitement. It sounded like she was choking on water but when Jennifer also started doing it, she realized they were happy.

She reached for the remote to change to channels, annoyed by the news anchor’s behavior when a picture popped up on the screen. She stopped, recognizing the boy.

“So it was him,” she muttered, leaning forward.

“This is the last picture that was taken of Hayden Hills before the accident that happened seven months ago,” Jennifer sobered. “His mother was killed in a freak-bombing accident and since then, he has had no performances or appearances in public. Some fans say they’ve spotted him around downtown New York City but whether he’s actually been out is something we don’t know.”

Summer started talking. “So, for seven months, Hayden has been staying away from the public eye but, tomorrow evening, he will be making his first public appearance!”

With a sneer, Artemis switched the channel and leaned back against the couch. Seneca watched her, unsure of what was going on in her head.

“What do you know about that Hayden kid?” he finally asked.

She leaned her head to the side, thinking. “I don’t know a lot actually. He stopped in today—that’s a long story—but, he’s just been stuck on my mind since then. I saw him at the cemetery when I visited Mark.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know he doesn’t remember you right?”

She nodded. “No duh. No one does. That’s how the Great Library designed it. It’s more painful for us that way.”

“True,” he agreed. “But also because if the public found out about something like the Great Library right now, they wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

She looked at him, scrutinizing him. “What does that mean?”

“They wouldn’t be able to comprehend all the knowledge of other worlds and universes that are out there,” he explained. “Come on, these people still believe that flying saucers belong to green bean aliens.”

She laughed. “Good point.”

They settled into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Seneca curled up, head resting on the back cushion and closed his eyes. She turned slightly to face him, studying him.

Every time she looked at him, she remembered all the time they had spent together and all the times they had sat in silence, watching the world move by outside while they didn’t change.

She reached out, the tip of her finger brushing against his cheek, tracing the slight scar that ran from the end of his chin, along his jaw line, and up to his ear. When she reached the end of the scar, she pulled back, sighing.

He had never told her how he’d gotten that scar and never talked about. She was starting to think he’d forgotten he even had.

“Why do guys always have such long eyelashes,” she muttered, studying his closed eyes.

A small smile appeared on his face and he opened his eyes. “Am I handsome?”

She raised an eyebrow, sarcasm dripping from her words. “Like an angel.”

“Hey,” he frowned. “At least I’m cuter than that Hayden kid.”

She laughed. “He’s the same age as us I think.”

“904?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Our actual ages.”

“Eighteen,” he spoke.

“Yeah.”

Seneca scooted forward, fingers wrapping around her small wrist and pulling her to face him. His green eyes searched hers, a certain look lingering behind them.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pulling back.

He didn’t let go of her wrist but did relax his hold on it. “I want to know if your eyes have changed.”

“What?” she was suddenly very aware of her heartbeat.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The seconds he didn’t answer seemed to drag out for an eternity but she knew it was only a split second before he answered.

“Someone once told me that if you fall in love with someone’s eyes, you’ll never stop loving them because a person’s eyes never change,” his voice was low and soft like a feather falling through the air.

“Have you fallen in love with my eyes?” she joked. She nudged at his fingers with her knuckles and he let go, straightening.

He shook his head. “No, not just your eyes.”

She was quiet. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I felt like saying it so I did.”

“Some things you shouldn’t say,” she pointed out. “And that is one of those things.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he challenged. “Just because you don’t feel the same way doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to admit it.”

“Is this why you’ve stayed with me all this time?” she asked, her stomach flipping. She wanted him to say yes but at the same time she wanted him to say no.

“No,” he answered.

Relief washed through her, followed by disappointment. A part of her had wanted to hear yes as an answer, to know that someone was fighting to keep her instead of just letting her wander through life.

“Not at first,” he continued. “Our sentence was only one hundred years, Artemis. For the first half of those years, I hated you. If it hadn’t of been for you, neither of us would have gotten got and sentenced in the first place. But then, when our time was up and I was allowed to leave, I realized I didn’t want to.”

She blinked, trying to wrap her head around what he was saying.

“And when you said you were staying,” he paused. “I panicked.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I know how many times you’ve tried,” he answered. “How many times you’ve sat there with a knife in your hand, debating suicide.”

She swallowed. “How could you?”

He shrugged. “I saw you.”

Tears stung her eyes but she refused to let them fall. It would be useless. He would comfort her but it wouldn’t make her feel any better inside.

“Why?” she asked. “Why would you like someone like me? I almost killed you, Seneca.”

He smiled. “After one hundred years I guess I realized how much you meant to me. You were the only thing that I still have from my past.”

My past.

She hated how that sounded. Clearing her throat, she shifted on the couch. She didn’t know what to say or how to express what she was feeling. All of this was new to her.

“Thank you,” she spoke. “For loving me when I couldn’t but I don’t see you like that.”

“I know that,” his smile dropped a little. “I’ve known that all this time. To you I’m just something the cat dragged in, right?”

She couldn’t argue with him. She didn’t want to. Her words would get tripped up by each other and it would come out sounding harsher than she intended them too.

Shaking her head, she spoke carefully. “No, you’re not like that. To me, you’re the rock that’s supported me all this time. You are the person that I can rely on for whatever and I don’t want that to change. I know it’s selfish but…”

She let her sentence hang. “I still need you by my side so never leave.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”