The Destiny of the Half-Bloods

Chapter 12

DAMEON:

“I didn’t know you were staying on campus over break,” she says as she hands back the jacket I lent her. “Usually everyone is gone.”

“My family is… far away,” I tell her. She nods with sad understanding. It makes me wish I could tell her everything I know about her family, to give her the answers she so desperately craves. She’s standing awkwardly in the center of my sloppy room, hugging herself like she’s afraid to touch anything. Her discomfort around me is heartbreaking. “Please, make yourself at home,” I offer, hoping to relax her a little. I can't imagine what she's thinking right now after what just happened.

“Oh… Okay,” she sighs and gingerly sits on the edge of my bed. I turn around to begin looking through my closet for some spare blankets and pillows, but her quiet voice stops me. “What were you doing in my dorm anyway?”

I grab an old quilt and turn around to face her, looking into those golden-brown eyes is so disarming. “I came to see you,” I shrug as I pass her the quilt. At least I can be honest about that. “I wanted to apologize for what I did the other day. I shouldn’t have pushed you. You deserve better than that." I've never apologized for anything before. This girl is affecting me in ways I never thought possible.

“Thank you for saying that,” she smiles shyly and looks at the floor as she wraps the blanket around herself.

I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t find the right words. I quickly shut it and turn around to find something to occupy myself. I decide to take a seat at my desk and pull out a book to read. Dante’s Inferno sounds interesting right now, though it’s riddled with inaccuracies. If only the writer knew the nightmares that really existed down in hell.

I open the book quietly and glance up at Seraphina. She’s still wrapped up like a caterpillar in a cocoon, uncomfortably staring at the wall. She's obviously not going to open up to me right now, I've done too much damage.

I prop my feet up on the desk and begin to read, though my eyes keep drifting to the beautiful girl who is perched quietly on my bed. I try to push aside the impure daydreams the image is giving me. I'd love to push her into that mattress right now.

I shake my head and look back down at the book, struggling to focus on the text when a tiny sniffle breaks the silence. I glance up and notice the quiet tears falling from the tip of Seraphina's nose. She’s trying to hide them from me. I’m not sure whether or not I should say anything. Comforting people isn’t exactly my forte.

Screw it. I close the book and put it back on the desk. “Hey,” I say as I get up from my chair so I can take a seat next to her. “I’m sorry about your guitar… and your dorm, I guess.” It’s a half-hearted reassurance, but I don’t have much practice making people feel good about themselves.

“Thanks,” she sniffles. “I’m still just… processing what happened.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” I say, followed by another uncomfortable silence. “Seraphina, why were you just standing in the middle of it all... frozen like that?” I ask.

“Oh.” She shrinks. “I get… anxious sometimes.” After a pause, she takes a deep breath. “I get panic attacks, and they just… they paralyze me.”

“That must be really tough,” is the only thing I can say. I desperately want to grab her hand to reassure her, but I can’t push her boundaries. “What is it like… when it happens?”

She looks at me in shock, as if nobody has ever asked her that question before. “Well… It’s like your whole body is a car engine that’s misfiring. Everything is moving too fast and too slow at the same time. And it always happens at the worst possible times.”

I muster the courage to reach out to rest my hand on hers, and I’m shocked when she doesn’t pull it away. She looks up at me with those melancholy eyes and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to kiss her. She’s sucked the breath out of me, and I’m speechless.

“I know, I'm just a freak,” she mourns while fiddling with her thumbs. “I wish I could be normal.”

How can someone so divine think so little of themselves? “I told you, normal is boring,” I say, inching a little closer to her. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

When she looks back up, my face is an inch away from hers, but she isn’t pulling away. Her delicate lips part slightly. I hold my breath at the sight, not wanting to break the connection between us. I’ll wait here for an eternity if it means a kiss from her perfect lips.