The Forgotten Locket Read Online Free Page A
Author: Lisa Mangum
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Fantasy, Time travel, Good and Evil
lot.
Chapter 2
The music was everywhere. The music was everything. The notes burrowed inside of me, wriggling and writhing and eating away at the darkest parts of me. More and more notes poured into me, gathering together into a solid mass, rising up in a wall of noise. A curtain of black covered me. I was consumed by the music.
Underneath the music, a sound rose up like words, a primal language of pain.
I heard someone scream. I felt the echo of it rattle in my throat.
Had that noise come from me?
I closed my eyes, hoping I could blot out the sight of the man with the guitar who stood before me, hoping I could escape into the darkness.
Eventually the screaming stopped, but I still heard the music.
Eventually the music stopped, but I still felt the pain.
Eventually the man left, and I was alone.
• • •
“Don’t move.”
The voice entered my ear like a needle. I remembered another voice, a darker voice, dripping with confidence and command. That voice had said the same thing to me, piercing deep. And when I had obeyed—when I had been forced to obey . . .
My mind shied away from the memory. I could feel my heart beating faster as pain sank sharp claws into me. The salt from my dried tears felt gritty on my lips and tasted bitter.
“Can you hear me? I need you to stay still.”
Confused, I tried to open my eyes, but my body didn’t want to cooperate. I didn’t want to stay still. I had been frozen in place for what seemed like a long time, like forever. I wanted to move, to run, to fly. I wanted to leave behind this place, this empty prison that had locked me in endless pain. I pushed myself to my feet, lashing out at the darkness in my mind, at the voice by my ear, searching for something to hang on to. Something to hit. Someone to hurt.
My fist connected with something solid, the thud sending a jolt through my arm.
“No—stop. Don’t.” The voice was closer now, and I heard a note of frustration in his tone. Strong arms wrapped themselves around me, pinning my arms to my chest and holding me close against a body hard as rock. “Be still. Let me help you.”
I shook my head. No one could help me. I had been cast adrift in a sea of agony and there was no salvation in sight. I was lost. Trapped.
I managed to crack my eyes open a slit, wincing at the dull gray light that slipped inside.
The world around me extended into a flat horizon line. I felt like I should recognize the vast, featureless landscape, but I didn’t.
The man holding me against his chest was taller than I was, and his hair was dark and cut short. His skin, a dusky shade of brown, was smooth, his body toned. His face, from the line of his jaw to the slope of his nose, was all planes and angles. A cloth bandage hid his eyes, spots of blood seeping through like tears.
A swell of apprehension rose up inside me at the sight of the blood. Had I done that?
I didn’t think so. Buried beneath the bright red spots on the bandage were darker smudges of older blood. The wound wasn’t fresh, but it also hadn’t yet healed.
I stopped struggling. I felt like I should recognize the person holding me, but I didn’t. No, that wasn’t entirely true. My hand twitched, and I knew that if I pressed my palm to his cheek, it would be a perfect fit.
“You’re here,” I said. The words came unbidden from somewhere inside me, past the pain and confusion, slipping out like a sigh. “You came.”
The tension in his face softened and his body relaxed to match mine. His arms loosened into an embrace. “Of course I came,” he said. His forehead touched mine. “I promised you I would.”
A line of blood appeared at the lower edge of the cloth binding his eyes.
“Your eyes—” I frowned. There was something I should remember about his eyes. Something important. Something that mattered.
He pulled away from me slightly. “I
Chapter 2
The music was everywhere. The music was everything. The notes burrowed inside of me, wriggling and writhing and eating away at the darkest parts of me. More and more notes poured into me, gathering together into a solid mass, rising up in a wall of noise. A curtain of black covered me. I was consumed by the music.
Underneath the music, a sound rose up like words, a primal language of pain.
I heard someone scream. I felt the echo of it rattle in my throat.
Had that noise come from me?
I closed my eyes, hoping I could blot out the sight of the man with the guitar who stood before me, hoping I could escape into the darkness.
Eventually the screaming stopped, but I still heard the music.
Eventually the music stopped, but I still felt the pain.
Eventually the man left, and I was alone.
• • •
“Don’t move.”
The voice entered my ear like a needle. I remembered another voice, a darker voice, dripping with confidence and command. That voice had said the same thing to me, piercing deep. And when I had obeyed—when I had been forced to obey . . .
My mind shied away from the memory. I could feel my heart beating faster as pain sank sharp claws into me. The salt from my dried tears felt gritty on my lips and tasted bitter.
“Can you hear me? I need you to stay still.”
Confused, I tried to open my eyes, but my body didn’t want to cooperate. I didn’t want to stay still. I had been frozen in place for what seemed like a long time, like forever. I wanted to move, to run, to fly. I wanted to leave behind this place, this empty prison that had locked me in endless pain. I pushed myself to my feet, lashing out at the darkness in my mind, at the voice by my ear, searching for something to hang on to. Something to hit. Someone to hurt.
My fist connected with something solid, the thud sending a jolt through my arm.
“No—stop. Don’t.” The voice was closer now, and I heard a note of frustration in his tone. Strong arms wrapped themselves around me, pinning my arms to my chest and holding me close against a body hard as rock. “Be still. Let me help you.”
I shook my head. No one could help me. I had been cast adrift in a sea of agony and there was no salvation in sight. I was lost. Trapped.
I managed to crack my eyes open a slit, wincing at the dull gray light that slipped inside.
The world around me extended into a flat horizon line. I felt like I should recognize the vast, featureless landscape, but I didn’t.
The man holding me against his chest was taller than I was, and his hair was dark and cut short. His skin, a dusky shade of brown, was smooth, his body toned. His face, from the line of his jaw to the slope of his nose, was all planes and angles. A cloth bandage hid his eyes, spots of blood seeping through like tears.
A swell of apprehension rose up inside me at the sight of the blood. Had I done that?
I didn’t think so. Buried beneath the bright red spots on the bandage were darker smudges of older blood. The wound wasn’t fresh, but it also hadn’t yet healed.
I stopped struggling. I felt like I should recognize the person holding me, but I didn’t. No, that wasn’t entirely true. My hand twitched, and I knew that if I pressed my palm to his cheek, it would be a perfect fit.
“You’re here,” I said. The words came unbidden from somewhere inside me, past the pain and confusion, slipping out like a sigh. “You came.”
The tension in his face softened and his body relaxed to match mine. His arms loosened into an embrace. “Of course I came,” he said. His forehead touched mine. “I promised you I would.”
A line of blood appeared at the lower edge of the cloth binding his eyes.
“Your eyes—” I frowned. There was something I should remember about his eyes. Something important. Something that mattered.
He pulled away from me slightly. “I
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