Nothing about my past, my moms, or my previous foster parents explains why any of it happened to me. I have done nothing but work and go to the library for months. Whoever sent the message made sure I got it loud and clear, except I’m not going to respond.
Something in me has sparked to life.
The Joanna Cole, who was a doormat, milquetoast with a glass of water and a Tuesday lunch of salad, is done for. No amount of placating or being easy to be around had saved me from that beating. The old Joanna Cole can’t rule my life any more. She can’t be in the driver’s seat any more. Being safe has done nothing but work me to the bone and make me feel like shit. It’s a lie I told myself over and over again. Augustine asked for honesty, so I am going to give it to him, and to myself.
She needed to die, and I guess a near-death experience is all it took to bring me back to life.
Augustine makes me feel alive too. He has brought out a side of me in my dreams that I have kept hidden for years, from everyone, simply by listening. The side of me that is loud and laughs and takes up space is alive in my dreams. It is time for me to be that person in real life. No more trying to hide. No more biting my tongue. No more allowing others to make me feel uncomfortable. If I want to feel alive, to enjoy being who I am for real, I need to be honest with myself.
I belong.
I would like to say I have spent every day since becoming the new and improved Joanna. That in this crazy week, I have become the new and adventurous person I am in my dreams. But in reality, after catching up on all my laundry, I was too tired to do much of anything else that all those influencers and self-help coaches talk about on social media. The advantageous list I had made is stuck to my fridge with none of the more impressive things marked off.
I didn’t go out, I didn’t start a new hobby to better myself. I didn’t really do much but lay on my bed and text Augustine. He sends me a message every lunchtime, asking if I have eaten, rested, and hydrated. He reminds me that I am worthy of rest, and that my value is for me to decide, not the amount of work I produce.
He is constantly on my mind. If his odd attempts at gifts weren’t enough, the bond certainly keeps me constantly reminded of him. The pull of the bond is ever present in me, like a string tied around my heart, pulling me to him. I feel connected to him even when we are apart. It’s physical, bone-deep and aching, but it reminds me that that part of the night was very real—the part I want to live in.
That first evening I was alone, when my hand wasn’t enough to keep the heat off my flesh or my pulse from racing, I went to the library. I don’t know how I knew it, but I could tell that Augustine knew when I had arrived. This new Joanna I want to be still couldn’t approach him. So like the coward I was, I slunk to my chair and waited for Kant to lull me to sleep. Or for whatever freaky magic Augustine had to put me to sleep for a few hours of rest.
On Tuesday, I had a bit of panic. What am I going to do for the rest of forever? I have never thought about immortality and what that would mean for me. Augustine had been in a weird mood because of a discussion he had with Deg’Doriel, who I learned is an honest to god demon and his closest friend, so I didn’t voice my concerns about immortal work.
The more I learn about Augustine though, the brighter and more hopeful it all seems because he believes in us, in me. There is something in his voice when he tries to convince me once again that I can quit my silly job that makes me want to believe him too. Eternity, however long that is, won’t be scary because he will always be there for me. I hang onto those words desperately, that he won’t leave me or simply disappear one day.
People always leave you, whether they want to or not. I know my moms’ accident was exactly that, but I also know if my friends really wanted me around, they’d answer my text messages about meeting up. I spent my early twenties pushing people away and claiming I didn’t need them. Unlearning that instinctual gut reaction is hard, but now I will have eternity to work on myself, which is almost as overwhelming as getting attached to someone. What if this is the best I can be?
By Thursday morning though, I am buzzing, completely and utterly excited for Augustine to take me on this date. In the early hours of the morning, before I could sneak out of the library, he caught me to tell me the dress code of the club we were going to tonight. I didn’t latch on to all the details, too distracted by the feeling of his hand in mine, the way his thumb rubbed circles across my skin. My skin was on fire, screaming at me to let him touch more of me there and then.
I take extra care to get ready. I wash and style my hair. I put on makeup, which I haven’t had the energy for in ages. I guess those short little naps in the library are paying off in more ways than one. My outfit is daring, at least for me. It is something I bought during a flash sale two years ago when a friend announced she was getting married. I didn’t get an invitation like I thought I would, so I’ve never worn the dress.
Now, standing in my bathroom on my tiptoes to inspect myself, I am feeling a bit uncertain. I know it fits the dress code, but I am nervous about wearing it out.
The strapless dress is so structured. Even if I had boobs, I am not sure I would need to wear a bra. Its fitted short skirt stretches around my shapewear to give my more streamlined silhouette a hint of tummy rather than the whole show. The sleeves aren’t attached but act more like opera gloves without hands. A flat, floppy bow accents my waist, yet it doesn’t really add much, not like it did in the picture online. My stud earrings don’t add anything to this, and I wish I had kept more of my mom’s costume jewellery, except it is what it is at this point.
I am slipping on my tallest, sturdiest pair of black heels when my buzzer goes off.He’s here.I swallow the anxiety and nerves. This is an opportunity to be me. There is no reason to be anything but honest.
“I’ll be down in just a second,” I tell him on the intercom.
I rush to my bathroom and check my reflection again before grabbing my bag and dashing out. With each step I take towards the door, my hands shake with excitement. The smile on my face is so big my cheeks ache.This is going to be amazing.I can see his outline through the glass of the fire door and I take a deep breath as I pull it open.
“Wow.” Augustine’s eyes flash a familiar golden hue before they turn hazel again and his olive cheeks darken a shade. “Apologies, you look truly stunning,mon abeille.”
My cheeks flame under his adoration. The only word I can think to describe how he looks at me. I look at his outfit to break our eye contact; the fine suit is a lush navy colour. His tie is intricately knotted, and his matching waistcoat creates an ocean of blue that reminds me of the seaside. There is a shining gold bee pinned to his lapel.
“You look very handsome,” I say, even if the word feels a bit awkward in my mouth. Handsome doesn’t begin to describe what a beautiful vision he is. His golden hair is shining in the setting sun and his glasses somehow soften the sharp angle of his face in such a way that makes me want to take them off to kiss every inch of his features to see if they will cut my lips.
“I have something for you that you cannot refuse this time.” He smiles, a sense of satisfaction just flickering across the back of my mind that I know is the bond now. “May I?”
My fingers itch to touch him, to feel his skin on mine. “Yes.”
He produces a jewellery box from his jacket and carefully opens it to reveal a gorgeous set of earrings. Golden with pearls and what I can only assume are diamonds. Definitely not glass costume jewellery. A refusal is on the tip of my tongue because there is no way I can be trusted with something so priceless looking, but he is already reaching for me as I lean in.
His delicate fingers remove my studs and place each piece of art into my ear. They should be heavy, but it feels like they weigh almost nothing. His fingers ghost over the shell of my ear and I feel the heat of his body through the fake satin of my dress. He doesn’t touch my skin any more than that.
I make a small noise when he steps away. He stares at me with such intensity, a hunger swelling in his gaze that makes the heat on my skin rush between my legs. Augustine holds out his arm for me to take and walks me to a long, black Cadillac from a different age. The type of car you are meant to be seen in, to show off wealth. The windows are tinted, the chrome shines, the tires are white-walled. He opens the back door for me to slide in and only then does it occur to me that there is a driver.
“The vehicle is mine, and the driver is Marcus. He owed me a favour and I wanted to ensure we could have as much fun as you’d like tonight.” He explains as he buckles my seat belt over my lap before I get the chance.
“You know what I want,” I tell him, heat creeping up my chest. I want to complete the bond. I want to belong. I want to be owned.
