#imogen fourthwing

The memory burns to life, Ridoc’s all too amused smile and lively eyes staring into mine as my heart shatters. I simply nodded. There was nothing else to be done. I didn’t want him watching me break. But I couldn’t stop the tears. He left me in the corridors, crying. Gods, I feel like a fool for even trying with him. He’s the resident smart-ass and everyone warned me he doesn’t do relationships. Looking back, he never treated me any differently than he did his friends. Sure, we slept together. That’s really it. Swallowing the regret that balls in my throat, I take another swig of the bourbon. Why the hell am I wasting these tears on him when there’s been countless men trying to lay with me? Why am I so loyal to someone who was never loyal to me? I wish all of our memories together would just disappear. I don’t want to feel this hurt anymore. The loneliness or awkwardness from it. He didn’t give a damn about me. He never did. 

Slowly moving to sit up, I turn my head at the sound of a knock. I’m done with all these tears. I’m done hurting for someone who never hurt me. Stumbling to my feet, I slowly but surely make my way to the door. The world spins, and my head pulses harder as though warning me. One hand holds the bourbon, while the other swings the door open. I’m sure I look like a wreck. Tangled hair. Tear streaked face and red rimmed eyes. Flushed cheeks from being drunk. The thought brings a slow bitter smile up. Imogen stands on the other side. She takes a single step back, her brows lifting in clear surprise. She does once over my body, her green eyes raising to meet mine once more. She reaches forward in one solid swipe and steals the bourbon with an all too cocky smile. “So this is what we’re doing?” She asks, seemingly excited. But there’s a sadness in her eyes. It seems I’m not the only one hurting. Opening my door for her, I make my way back to the bathing chamber. As soon as my body flops onto the cold ground, relief hits quick and fast. 

“What’d Garrick do?” I question, closing my eyes to hide the tears gathering. These tears are really starting to piss me off. “What makes you think he did anything?” Her voice sounds close. With a turn of the head, I find her laying down with me. “Because you love him.” My lip trembles and more tears rise, but my smile is genuine. For her. She takes a deep breath, grinding her teeth as she looks up to the ceiling. “Flirting with another girl. It’s not like I own him so…” She shrugs, raising the bourbon to her lips. She makes a face, shaking her head with a shocked laugh. “You naughty woman.” Her laughter only makes my smile grow. She offers the bottle and I take it. 

“What about you? Who’s got you like… this.” She emphasizes, raising hand to my face. I laugh trying to ignore the hurt, but the tears drop anyways. “Ridoc Gamlyn.” I answer, and her lips thin. She shakes her head while I take another mouthful. It burns as it goes down but it distracts me enough. “That was your first issue.” She mumbled, rolling to face me. “What happened?” This whole thing ended because I wouldn’t sneak into my father’s study for him. Shaking my head, a bitter smile forms. He was using me. For how long, I don’t know. But it isn’t hard to figure out. I’ll never forget it. “Used and discarded me when it was convenient.” I whisper, shrugging. 

Imogen sits up, studying me for sometime. There’s something in her eyes that I don’t want to name. I don’t want pity. I don’t want rage on my behalf. I just want to forget. I want to erase all the memories with him. All the stolen kisses, the way his voice sounds, the jokes he’d tell to cheer me up. I don’t want to remember his genuine concern, or what I thought was genuine, when I was stabbed during combat training. Or the way he made me feel on nights he’d slip into my bed. Letting out a shaky breath, I hand the bottle to her. She downs the rest of it. 

“We’re gonna need more of this.” She isn’t wrong. Both of us seem to have had a pretty shitty day. She doesn’t move though. She lays down, and we both stare at the ceiling in silence. A comfortable silence. The kind that isn’t forced and is needed. He doesn’t deserve these tears. So why won’t they stop falling? Breathing through it all, I sit up to look out the window. Something tells me I’ll sleep like a baby tonight. 

“Wanna smash the bottles?” What? Turning with furrowed brows, a slow smile crawls forward. What the hell did she just ask? Her eyes widen before she throws her head back with laughter. “Not like that!” She tries to backtrack, and my own laughter joins her. I understand what she was getting at. Swiftly swooping the empty whisky bottle up, I roll my shoulders.  “On three?” I ask, but the sound of a shattering bottle sounds. I turn, mouth open in shock. Well damn. Shattered glass scatters across the bathing chamber floor. She smirks, raising a brow at me. Shaking my head, I turn and throw the bottle with all the anger and frustration I’m harboring. And it feels nice. Hearing the glass crinkle, shatter, it replaces the shattering of my heart. Seeing the glass like little chandelier pieces under the moon’s rays reminds me there’s more to life than a boy. “Alright. I’m going to bed. I’ll clean this tomorrow.” I mutter, focusing on walking in a straight line to get back to bed. Imogen follows, jumping on my bed like she owns the damn thing. “I’m not leaving.” She states, so I shrug and crawl into the bed with her. “Suit yourself.”