"Be with me forever?"
She presses her hand against her chest and her other hand on my cheek. "You want that with me?" She seems surprised by my question, but not in a fearful way. It’s the same way I look at myself, like no one would ever want me after living the life I’ve lived, acting the parts I’ve acted, debating over whether my life is worthier than someone else's—that part of her still exists somewhere inside of her heart and brain—the scar tissue from her damaged self-confidence is still present sometimes.
"Forever and more—" Isabelle. "Tracy Ales.”
"I think I can agree to give you my forever," she says. "After all, it’s the least I can do.”
"What do you mean by that? You've given me so much," I tell her. She only knows what our life has been these last two years. There’s not much more I could ask of her.
"I just mean, yes," she says along with a breathtaking smile.
I stare into the reflection of the ocean swirling within her glossy eyes, wondering what's floating through her mind, but I believe her words are true, and I'll take her truth and hold onto it with everything I have.
***
ISABELLE
Memories are permanent imprints that can be covered and masked. While they will always remain, they can sometimes be forgotten, but time resurrects what could never be buried.
One by one, tiny images surface in my head like a blurry vision, but just as a puzzle, pieces fit together and clarity sets in.
I was strong enough to handle the life I once lived through, and strong enough to accept why I had to leave my life behind. I never got to say goodbye to those I loved—my parents and friends, but it was to keep them safe, knowing how accessible every private conversation in this world is. I wish I could explain to my parents why they don’t know where I am, who I am, or how I became this person, but out of everyone in the world, I know they would understand the most. This island was meant to be my parents’ final destination if their personal secrets were ever exposed, and I know when they give up hope of me returning to them, they’ll make their way here to find me. It offers me a shimmer of peace in my sometimes-cloudy thoughts.
In the meantime, the memories of how life led me here are my life's darkest perception. I choose to keep them secret as a form of gratitude to the man who has gone to the other side of the world just to bring peace to my life, and then patiently guided me back to his heart again, naturally, organically, and truly. I know now that what we have is pure—we are meant to be with each other, and it’s the only satisfaction I’ve ever needed.
If you enjoyed Darkest Perception and the twisty ride you endured to reach this point, make sure you check out Amelia’s heartbreaking journey in Last Words. Turn the page for an excerpt or (Click here for more).
Excerpt from Last Words
Since 1945, my story has remained hidden deep within the corners of my mind and blacked out as if with permanent marker, in hopes that no one else would ever know. I've been holding on to these silent memories for such a long time, but I'm becoming weak. I've always known that the truth might someday be stronger than my will to be silent, but I can't imagine what my secrets would do to those I love.
This may be cliché, but I'm going to start my story with a once upon a time...except my life hasn't been a fairytale—far from it. In fact, for a long time, I believed a happy ending meant death.
During my early years as a child, I had a perfect life. The sun shone golden rays across Bohemia’s breathtaking sky and bore its warmth down on the silky, green-grass-covered soil. I lived in color—rich with vivid hues, and I danced through the mustard fields, twirling my dress as my hair blew like weeping willows in the breeze. My heart was protected, my life blessed with knowledge, and I was surrounded by love. There was a lightness in my mind and a feeling of completeness in my soul that made each day feel like a gift from above.
Then, a day came when the sun was taken away. The sky became dark with heavy clouds, and my world turned gray. Raindrops that once fell from the sky bled into the tears that burned down my cheeks.
I thought darkness was all I had left after losing everything I'd ever known and loved, but through a cloud of dust and despair, I found a glimmer of hope—a smile amongst the sunken cheeks and rotting corpses.
He should never have smiled at me, and I shouldn't have acknowledged him when he did, but once it started, there was no turning back. I never considered the possibility of how it would end until I felt the heartbreak of loneliness again. His smile was gone, the warm touches we shared through my cold shivers would never heat my body again, and the worst part was that all hope was lost.
It was all for nothing. It would have been easier to have never felt that kind of love because once I knew how good it could feel, I didn’t think I’d ever feel that way again.
As the world caved in on itself, I allowed the pain and misery to pour from my eyes one last time before making a silent vow to never give another ounce of power to those who wanted to dominate the weak.
I traveled through the phases of bitter denial, revenge, hate, sorrow—and finally, the emptiness that would be a part of me forever.
When the sun returned and the grass grew back, those who had survived slowly allowed their wounds to heal, but there was a numbness inside all of us—protection from feeling the pain of the memories that would last a lifetime.
To forget and move on as if it never happened was the only way to survive. I tried to convince myself that I hadn't lived through the most demoralizing and destructive five years this world has ever seen.
I moved to America, leaving the enemy behind. I lived on, shielding myself from the memories. I lived up to society's moral standards and expectations by getting married and having children. I cooked, cleaned, and supported those I love. Then, over time, my past became a part of the earth like the bones and ashes in that far away land.
There is one exception, though, and it's the part of me I have only pretended to forget—my secret. In fact, some would consider what I did to be as wrong, and equally horrendous, as what the heartless ones did to my whole race.
In my heart, I will never consider that it was wrong, and I will stand by my actions and beliefs because the heart wants what the heart wants. Sometimes, even the toughest warriors who survive the odds and somehow escape the shadows of death, can still fall helpless and weak at the mercy of love.
CHAPTER ONE - EMMA
Great, I'm going to be late again. I glance over at the clock on my car radio, feeling anxiety set in as I wait for my phone to ring. I don't understand how I can be expected to predict the exact moment I will arrive somewhere. Mom thinks that because I work for myself, I make my own hours, but that’s not the case. I have a job and deadlines to meet, but Mom clocks in and out of her beloved receptionist position at the town hall, so her lunch hour is the same every day. Even though mine doesn't always match up, I try my hardest to be punctual, but I can't foresee my daily schedule and traffic.
I fly into the parking lot of Panera and see Mom standing in front of the entrance, her hip cocked to one side, an annoyed grimace covering her face, and her fingers frantically searching for buttons on her phone.
Not-so-shockingly, my phone rings five-seconds later, just as I put the Jeep into park. If she weren't busy calling me, she would see that I pulled into the parking lot a minute ago.