oxygen to him, the chance to fill his lungs with life again, to fill his heart with her presence.
He desperately wanted to hold her hands and keep her close to him. He wanted to see her eyes fill with relief when she saw him, as they had when he used to go to her after one of her terrible dreams. But he knew that when she woke up and saw him standing in her room, it’d be fear, not relief she’d feel – and he braced himself for it.
He also knew that her eyes, and her hands too, could hurt him badly – which was why he couldn’t wait a second longer, as much as he would have loved to have kept looking at Sarah’s black hair spread on the pillow, a white hand uncurled beside her lovely face, the rhythm of her back rising and falling under the sheet as she breathed in and out, slowly. He couldn’t risk for her to wake up, panic and use the Midnight gaze on him, or touch him with the Blackwater. He did what he had to do.
Sarah screamed as she felt someone grab both her wrists – she barely had an instant to see Sean’s face over hers, before he covered her eyes. She was blind, and his knee was on her chest, stopping her from filling her lungs – she instinctively started thrashing, trying to free herself, but it was no use. Sean was reeling with the absurdity of it. He was scaring Sarah, he was hurting Sarah. It made no sense. It couldn’t be happening.
It needs to be done. It needs to be done to save her life. But God, I wish there was another way.
“Sarah. Sarah, it’s me. You’re safe. It’s Sean …”
“Let me go!” Sarah struggled, trying to free her hands – she growled, and Sean knew that given half a chance, she’d strike, she’d hurt him. No sign of the vagueness that gripped her when Nicholas was around.
“Please, Sarah. Please. I need to speak to you,” he whispered.
“Let me go!”
“Just listen. Just give me the chance to explain.”
“Go away!”
“Sarah, please.” Sean begged again and again, but she wouldn’t stop writhing. He saw no other way but to lean on her with all his weight, waiting for her to exhaust herself and stop. He heard something snapping, a thin, small ripping somewhere – was she hurt? Sarah’s fingers felt hot already. She’s so much quicker in calling her power than she used to be, thought Sean, and for a second he felt proud of her, in spite of the circumstances.
A new wave of self-hatred washed over him as she struggled against him. Finally, she lay still. She was blinded by Sean’s hand, panting with the effort and with the weight on her chest.
“Sarah. Let me speak. Just for a moment.” Sean tried again.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered, her voice dripping with fear and fury.
“Tell me I can let go of your hands.”
“You can.”
“Will you use the Blackwater against me?”
“No.”
“Give me your word.”
“You have my word.”
Sean didn’t really know whether to believe her, of course. But he needed to give her a chance. He needed to give them both a chance to change that terrible scenario – it was too awful, too painful, to be laying into her the way he was.
“What have I done to you? What did Harry ever do to you? Why are you doing this?” she whispered.
“To save your life—” He was desperate for her to understand. “I couldn’t save Harry, but I can protect you.”
“Let me look at you. Take your hands away.”
“You’ll use the Midnight gaze on me.”
“No. No I won’t.”
“I don’t believe you, Sarah.”
Sarah tried to lift her knees in an attempt to kick him off her, but she couldn’t. He was a lot stronger. Sean leaned even more heavily on her chest, his fingers burrowing into her wrists. She tried to inhale, panicked and whimpered in pain. Sean closed his eyes. How had it come to this? He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe he was doing this to her. I’m actually hurting her. Hurting my Sarah. In what crazy twist of my mind has this ever happened? None of them. Ever.
He felt a teardrop rolling between his fingers. Her breathing was heavy and fast, but her body was growing weary. She knew there was no way out.
I can’t do this, thought Sean. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t hurt her anymore.