Originally posted by: KaShAdmirerI'm addict to it =)
try to update soon
Originally posted by: akshiankitanice
Originally posted by: ANTARA-2244Read all da chapters at one go! I'm just luving dis ff..and ArSh!!!❤️❤️ plz PM me when u update da next part!!😃
Chapter 10
Armaan spent a good half hour walking the streets, breathing in the crisp winter air, hoping it would cool the fire inside him. It didn't. Turning into the street where his apartment was his mind was no clearer, his confusion no less, than it had been when he left earlier.
He stopped outside the apartment block and threw his head back. Closing his eyes, he let the frigid breeze blow over his face. The sensation was oddly like needles pricking his skin. A bit like the shooting stabs of nervousness in his gut whenever he thought about going up there and seeing Shilpa again.
Man up, Armaan, he told himself sternly. You are twenty-six years old, not some idiotic teenager; start acting like it! How hard could it be anyway? If he just walked in and acted like nothing had happened then maybe all the weird tension would just cease to exist. Yes, that was what he would do. He would go in and be normal. N.O.R.M.A.L.
Surely even he could manage that?
Taking one last deep breath he headed inside the building. The elevator ride up to his apartment seemed to take forever and with each second that ticked by the knot of anxiety in his stomach expanded till it was actually painful. But finally the doors opened and he walked out into the corridor.
And was instantly hit by the sound of raised voices.
He paused at the head of the hallway, a frown denting his brow. They sounded as if they were coming from his apartment, but that couldn't be right. He'd left Shilpa on her own. Unless...
A jolt of horror went through him as it occurred to him that her relatives might have tracked her down. They might have learned that she was living with him and come to give her a piece of their mind about it. Even from the brief interaction he'd had with them he could imagine that would be something they would be likely to do.
He started to hurry forward when one of the voices made him stop again.
"Did you get him drunk? That's what you did, isn't it? You fed him drink and then you pounced on him!"
Armaan's heart froze and for a moment all he could do was stare in wide-eyed disbelief at the door to his apartment. It was ajar and that was why he could hear what was being said. Or shouted in this case.
"No, I-" he heard Shilpa try to defend herself, but she was cut off savagely.
"Don't even try to deny it! I know your type of girl very well! I've seen it before. You prey on vulnerable men! Despicable!"
Armaan forced himself to walk forward, to push open the apartment door and step inside. They didn't see him enter. Shilpa was facing the door, but her eyes were fixed on the woman in the pink and white salwar kameez standing less than two inches in front of her. Armaan noticed the pallor of Shilpa's skin and the pained expression in her dark eyes, and his heart clenched. I shouldn't have left her, he thought.
"I knew this was going to happen!" the woman declared. "I knew it! First the drinking and now bringing wh-"
"Muskaan!"
Armaan's harsh bark cut through the angry stream of words and for one second the apartment fell into a deathly silence in which his voice seemed to echo off all the walls. Both women's heads snapped up and he found himself speared by two pairs of eyes. Shilpa's were intensely dark and wide with surprise, not quite masking the shadows of hurt in them. Muskaan's brown eyes also widened, but it was ire that burned in them.
"Armaan Malik, you have some explaining to do!" she declared. "And you better have good answers, like why you weren't at the airport to meet Rahul and I, and why I found this," – waving a hand in Shilpa's direction – 'in your apartment?"
She fisted her hands on her hips as she finished her little speech, the multitude of bangles she wore slipping down her wrists as she did so, jangling loudly. It should have been impossible, but Armaan could have sworn that they sounded angry too, like a musical echo of Muskaan's snappish words.
He scowled at her. "First of all, Shilpa is not a 'this'," he told her tersely. "And secondly, I would have been at the airport if you had bothered to tell me that you were coming home early. I'm not a mind reader, you know."
"Early?" Muskaan repeated, her expression turning baffled. "What do you mean 'early'? We were always coming home today."
"No, you were due back on the 17th," he corrected her. "I remember you telling me the day you left."
"Today is the 17th, Armaan!"
"It can't be! I..." Confused, he glanced about like he was expecting the date to be displayed in large letters somewhere. "But, I could have sworn it was the 15th today."
"You forgot!" Muskaan sounded indignant. "How? What could be more important than your sister and brother-in-law returning home?" Her eyes cut to Shilpa and they hardened, a look of utter contempt crossing her face. "That? You got distracted by some cheap-"
"She is not cheap!" Armaan cut through her, his eyes flashing with fury. "Sister or not, I won't let you speak about her like that!"
Muskaan opened her mouth to say something but right at that moment a tall, lithe man stepped into the living room from the balcony. He had short, dark hair and light brown eyes that took in the scene before him with an air of amusement, mirrored by the smirk on his lips.
"You know, if you shout any louder the people across the street might just be able to hear you," he commented.
"Shut up, Rahul!" Armaan and Muskaan snapped in unison.
His smirk widened into a grin as he settled himself comfortably on the couch. "Hey, I was just trying to lighten the mood. The tension in here is stifling."
Muskaan made an irritated sound under her breath, shooting her husband a scowl. Then, turning to her brother, she grabbed his arm and said, "Come with me."
Before Armaan had a chance to protest she was dragging him over toward the balcony. For someone so short she was surprisingly strong, her grip like a vise around his lower arm. He knew it was futile to try and wrestle with her. Long ago he'd learned that when she wanted to get her own way she would. And right now she was hell bent on giving him a lecture.
"Who is that girl?" she demanded as soon as they were outside. "Where did she come from and what the hell is she doing here?"
Armaan opened his mouth to answer, but Muskaan rushed on.
"Did you meet her while you were drunk? You did, didn't you? Oh my God, she got you drunk! She spiked your drink so she could get you to bring her back here! She was probably going to rob you!"
As she ranted, she paced up and down the small balcony, her arms flying wildly in all directions, sending her bangles into a crescendo of jingling. Armaan gritted his teeth and reminded himself that she was his sister and he couldn't get away with hitting her.
"Muskaan will you shut up for a second and let me speak?" he demanded.
She shot him a displeased look over her shoulder, but for once she didn't say anything. Armaan took a deep breath. He needed it.
"Shilpa met with an accident that I witnessed," he explained. "I brought her into the hospital. Her relatives chucked her out and she had nowhere to go, so I invited her to have the spare room."
"You what?" Muskaan whirled round, her eyes so wide they were almost popping out her head. At some other time it might have looked comical. "She is living with you?"
"What's wrong with that?" he asked defensively, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Muskaan spluttered for a couple of seconds. "What's wrong with it? What's right with it?" She started to pace again. "Armaan, what do you know about this girl? She could be anyone! She could be a psychopath! And you just invited her into your home?"
"Muskaan, will you stop overreacting? Shilpa is not a psychopath."
"There must be some reason why her family threw her out!"
"Yeah: they are assholes."
She gave him a withering look, making a little frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "You are not taking this seriously, Armaan! Look, I know you have had a hard time coping lately and it's only natural that-"
A loud gasp interrupted the flow of her words. Armaan looked up sharply, a frown denting his brows. Muskaan had been pacing back and forth but she had stopped a few feet away from him, one hand raised to her mouth as if she'd just witnessed something deeply shocking. Her eyes were fixed on an object on the ground. They were wide and staring, the pupils so dilated that her eyes looked black instead of brown. Armaan's frown deepened and he glanced down, wondering what on earth had caused such an intense reaction in her.
That's when he saw it – the drawing pad lying open next to the deck chair. His heart kicked his ribcage and for one moment he was utterly frozen, fine tremors running down his spine. He could only watch in a sort of horror as Muskaan bent and picked up the pad. Her hands trembled as she lifted it up, and when she turned to face him tears shimmered in her eyes.
"What is this?" she asked in a whisper.
His eyes were automatically drawn to the picture and just like the night before a jolt of shock ran through him at the sight of it. In all the confusion of the morning he'd managed to put it out of his mind, but here he was, confronted with it again, and it still terrified him. The charcoal outlines of Shilpa's eyes stared back at him, so big and deep and enchanting. Even though they were inanimate he felt drawn into them all over again, like they were reaching out to him from the page.
He forced his gaze back to his sister's face and her expression made his heart stop. She was regarding him closely, but her expression wasn't shrewd or even thoughtful. It was searching, but it was also awed and had a hint of sorrow. The tears made her brown eyes look glassy, but there was a different sort of light in them, one that sent a bolt of alarm right through Armaan. She was looking at him with hope.
It's not what you think, he wanted to shout, but he couldn't seem to speak, couldn't seem to do anything other than stare mutely back at Muskaan, his heart racing in his chest. And then Rahul appeared, pushing the door open with a cheerful whistle.
"Muski, do you want-" He broke off when he saw her pale face. "What happened?"
Instantly he was by his wife's side, placing a hand on her shoulder, his eyes devouring her face, filled with concern and a touch of alarm.
"Muskaan? What's wrong?"
She turned her head slowly to look at him, the tears thickening in her eyes. Wordlessly she handed the drawing out to him. He frowned and took it from her, glancing down, then up again, a look of bafflement on his face.
"It's a drawing," he said. "Of a girl."
As if on cue, Shilpa hobbled into the balcony doorway. While Armaan and Muskaan had been arguing, she and Rahul had been standing in the living room, trying to pretend there wasn't a sibling war going on outside. Rahul had told her they always fought like cat and dog and said that a cup of tea usually diffused the tension. He'd headed out to ask them if they wanted one when she heard the worry in his voice and saw him rush to Muskaan's side. It wasn't really her business, but Shilpa had felt compelled to go and see what was happening, thinking that maybe she could help Armaan ease Muskaan's concerns about her being there.
When she arrived in the doorway she saw Rahul holding something in his hands. He was half turned away from her so she couldn't see it clearly, but she heard him just fine when he lifted his head and said to his wife, "It's of that girl in there."
Shilpa's heart gave a massive thud and without thinking she blurted, "Me?"
Everyone turned to look at her at once and she felt her face flush with embarrassment. She glanced between them all, cursing herself for not keeping quiet, when it struck her that they were all looking at her oddly. Rahul was frowning, a thoughtful expression lining his face. Muskaan was staring at her with wide, teary eyes, something rather like wonder shining in them. It made her feel uncomfortable and she had the urge to push her hair in front of her face and hide behind it, a bad habit she'd had in childhood. She tried to smile at them, but she knew her lips twisted more into a grimace, so she looked at Armaan instead.
The way he was looking at her was strangest of all. His dark blue eyes were troubled, shadows flitting through them, and a small crease marred his forehead. It wasn't a frown, exactly, but she could tell he was mentally tormented by something. Worry instantly flooded her and she took a step towards him, intending to ask him what was wrong, but it was then that the page Rahul was still holding caught her eye.
She stopped, her breath catching audibly in her throat. Her likeness stared back at her in black and white, but she was certain she didn't look as beautiful as that in real life. Her hair flowed across her shoulders magnificently, the way she'd seen in pictures of fantasy princesses. Her lips looked fuller, more seductive, and her eyes... She stared in shock at them, wondering if she really did look at people that way. They were so dark, so deep, and the expression in them was penetrating, as if she were seeing right into someone's soul.
A little shiver of amazement ran down her spine and then she glanced up at Armaan, who had also turned his attention to the drawing.
"You drew this?" she asked, awe infusing her voice.
He lifted his eyes to her and a fresh peel of alarm went through him. Those emerald eyes were shining, surprise and delight lightening them like the rays of the sun on a lake. But it wasn't that that sent his pulse jittering or had him feeling like he couldn't breathe all of a sudden. It was the searching light in them that so perfectly mirrored the drawing. He felt as if she were looking into his mind, seeing the tangled web of confusion there, and that terrified him more than anything ever had.
"Yes," he admitted, running a hand agitatedly over the back of his neck.
God, he couldn't stand the scrutiny in her eyes. It was bad enough Muskaan was staring at him as if some miracle had happened, but now Shilpa too. He knew they both wanted explanations, but damn it, he didn't have any to give them! What was he supposed to say when he didn't understand why he'd drawn the picture himself?
"You haven't drawn anything in six months," Muskaan said, her voice trembling with emotion. He glanced over at her in time to see a single tear spill down her cheek. A sharp pain seared his heart at the sight of it and he lowered his eyes guiltily.
"Six months?" Shilpa repeated, feeling stunned. She looked back at the drawing and then at Armaan, trying to grasp the enormity of what Muskaan had just revealed. A traitorous voice in her head started to whisper that he'd drawn the picture only for her, but she quickly pushed the thought away. She didn't want to start thinking like that. She wasn't special. Not to Armaan, not to anyone.
"It's getting cold out here. I'm going inside for a drink," Armaan said, desperate to draw everyone's attention away from him and that blasted drawing. He didn't wait for their responses, just strode back into the apartment, keeping his eyes cast down.
"I'll go make tea," Rahul announced, handing the drawing pad to Muskaan before following Armaan inside.
Muskaan stared down at the portrait for another few seconds, and then, finally, she looked up at Shilpa.
"I think you should have this," she said, walking up to Shilpa and holding the drawing out to her.
Shilpa hesitated, torn between a desire to have it and worry she might upset Armaan. But Muskaan pressed it into her hands with a smile.
"He won't mind," she assured her. She paused for a second, taking a deep breath, and then stunned Shilpa by adding, "Thank you."
"What for?" Shilpa asked, baffled.
"For whatever it is you have done to help him." Muskaan reached out and placed a hand on Shilpa's arm. All the hostility was gone from her face now, her brown eyes actually glowing with warmth as she gave Shilpa another smile. Then, with a gentle squeeze of her arm, she stepped round Shilpa and went back into the apartment.
Shilpa remained where she was a minute, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. About a million contradictory emotions were rushing about inside her, setting her heart racing. She glanced down at the charcoal picture and once again she was struck by wonder. With slightly tremulous fingers she traced the outlines, a warm, heady sensation growing inside her as she did so. It was an alien feeling, one she hadn't experienced for a very long time, but she thought it might just be delight. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and she was powerless to resist it.
She didn't realise it, but as she turned to go back inside, her face glowed with happiness.
Half an hour later they were all seated around the giant coffee table in the living room. Muskaan was asking Shilpa a thousand questions, to which she replied patiently. Armaan's sister was loud and flighty, her arms always flying about as she spoke. Her light brown hair was curly and bobbed about as she nodded her head, looking as if it had a life of its own. More than once Shilpa had to repress an amused smile.
Armaan, on the other hand, was restless. The drawing of Shilpa lay on the coffee table where she'd laid it down when she came back in from the balcony and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't prevent his eyes from gravitating towards it. It disturbed him and he didn't even know why. Every time he looked at it a little shiver of fear passed through him and the confusion in his mind seemed to expand. He wanted to get up and pace, his muscles feeling tight, the leaping energy inside him gathering into a ball that was threatening to suffocate him. But he knew if he did, Muskaan would snap at him to sit back down.
"Rahul and I were just in Mumbai," Muskaan was telling Shilpa after learning she'd been born in that city. "We were visiting my parents."
She paused and glanced over at Armaan. Shilpa noticed a ripple of uncertainty cross her face, but it was quickly replaced by a look of steely determination.
"Ma missed seeing you," she addressed Armaan. "She was upset that you didn't go with us."
Armaan didn't look at his sister but his face hardened. "I had to work," he said flatly. Shilpa noticed that his hands clenched and then unclenched like maybe he wanted to punch something. A little knot of worry wound itself around her gut.
"You should call her," Muskaan told him.
"Why?" Armaan did glance up then and his expression was sharp and mocking. "So she can tell me I'm ruining my life again? So she can lecture me about putting the past behind me? So she can try and guilt-trip me into forgiving him?"
"She's worried about you," Muskaan replied. "And you should give Papa a chance. He's different now. He knows he did wrong and he would really like to speak to you."
"Maybe you can overlook what he did, but I can't," he told her through clenched teeth.
His eyes were hard and burning. Shilpa had never seen him look so wild, so dangerous. She could feel the anger radiating off of him, could see it in the tautness of all his muscles. But oddly, it didn't frighten her. There was something almost mesmerising about him and she couldn't tear her eyes off him. Even so, she knew she had no business witnessing this family argument and she forced herself to stand and say, "I should go to my room."
"No, stay where you are," Armaan told her. "Muskaan and Rahul were just leaving."
Rahul rose, but Muskaan stayed where she was on the couch, looking steadily at her brother, her expression as cold and stern as steel.
"Just speak to him once," she said. "You owe him that much."
"I owe him nothing!" Armaan exploded, jumping to his feet. "When did he ever care about me? When did he ever care about any of us? It's too late for him to start now!"
He started to pace toward the kitchen but Muskaan's soft voice made him stop.
"He's dying, Armaan."
Shock jolted his heart, sending a tremor through his whole body. For a second he felt as if he were underwater, flailing about helplessly, all the oxygen being sucked out his lungs. And then he snapped out of it as a sharp, shooting burst of pain cut right through him. A bitter taste clogged the back of his throat and he clenched his hands into fists, resentment a hot, prickling sensation all along his skin as he turned to look at his sister.
"He's dying," she repeated, her dark eyes hollow. "The doctors say he has only months left."
Armaan stared back at her for a minute while his chest ached, the air in his lungs slowly being squeezed out of them. Something hot and stinging pricked his eyes, but he forced it back, refusing to give in, refusing to feel for someone who had abandoned him when he needed him the most. Every muscle in his body tightened and he narrowed his eyes, his lips curling back in a sneer.
"Good," he said acidly. "He deserves whatever he gets."
Muskaan leapt to her feet, her face flushing with temper, but Armaan had already turned his back on her and was marching to the kitchen. "How can you say that?" she shouted after him. "He's our father, Armaan!"
"He's not my father!" Armaan snapped back, yanking open the fridge door. He grabbed a beer. There were only two left. Should have bought more, he thought irritably.
"I know he hurt you," Muskaan was saying. "But he's sorry. He wants to make amends. Can't you even try to meet him halfway?"
"No!" he declared, pulling the top off the bottle.
"Armaan, if you don't try you will regret it."
He ignored her, raising the bottle to his lips and taking a big swig. Muskaan stalked up to him, hurt and exasperation warring on her face.
"It's too early in the day to be drinking," she said.
Armaan put the bottle down and turned to her, slowly but with an air of menace about him. Watching from the living room, Shilpa experienced a sudden shiver of trepidation.
"If I want to drink, I'll bloody well drink!" he told Muskaan. "It has nothing to do with you!"
"I'm your sister-'" she started to say.
"To hell with the family crap!" he snarled, grabbing the bottle again. "I don't want you here! Get out!"
She sucked in a breath and for a second her eyes glistened wetly. But then her expression hardened and she gave him a narrow glare.
"You need to learn to grow up, Armaan," she told him coolly. "You can't keep hiding behind alcohol every time you want to forget something. One day you will have to face it. All of it."
Armaan snorted and without saying a word headed toward the balcony door. Muskaan let him go. She'd tried, she consoled herself. If he didn't want to listen to her what more could she do? With a sigh, she turned and saw Shilpa watching Armaan storm outside, and her heart gave a little leap of hope as she remembered the drawing. Maybe there was still a chance for her brother after all...
"Will you look after him for me?"
Shilpa started in surprise at the gentle tone of Muskaan's voice. Glancing round, she saw her standing in front of her, those big brown eyes hopeful and beseeching. Shilpa's heart gave a little nervous somersault.
"M-me?" she stammered. "But, I-"
Muskaan smiled and placed her hand on her arm like she'd done outside on the balcony. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I have the feeling that you might be the only one who can get through to him. Just watch over him for me. Please."
Her expression was so earnest that Shilpa could easily see how much this request meant to Muskaan. And despite her doubts, despite knowing that she was the last person on earth who could help Armaan considering how deep her own scars went, she just couldn't say no to her. Her throat was too tight with fear to speak so she simply nodded.
Muskaan's face lit up. "Thank you."
After patting Shilpa's hand, she walked over to Rahul and the two of them left. Shilpa watched them go, nerves dancing about in her stomach. I'm not up to this, she thought, biting her bottom lip. I can barely deal with myself most days, never mind someone else.
And yet, when she glanced over at the balcony and saw the sharp curve of Armaan's spine as he sat on the deck chair, she was overcome with the desire to try. She'd seen the flicker of pain in his eyes when Muskaan had told him their father was dying, had recognised the despair hidden behind his anger. Their situations were completely different, and yet, on some level, she felt she understood him. And if she could help ease some of his suffering, she was willing to do so.
Taking a deep breath, she headed out toward the balcony. Armaan was sitting hunched over, cradling the bottle in both hands. He was turning it round and round, picking at the label. Bits of it had fallen on the ground, looking like paper snowflakes. He didn't look up as Shilpa came out and sat down on the chair next to him.
She let him sit in silence for a while, turning her attention to the view instead. Even though it was early afternoon, the short winter day was already beginning to draw to a close and she could see a pink haze in the sky on the horizon. The moon was already visible, a pale silver circle in a cobalt sky. She gazed at it, musing how beautiful it looked even in daylight.
A breeze blew in, lifting her hair from her shoulders. It was icy, but she found she didn't mind so much. In a weird kind of way it was almost refreshing and she let the cold seep into her skin, wondering if it could penetrate deep enough to freeze the ball of sorrow she carried around with her.
"She was only trying to help," she said eventually.
Armaan snorted. She glanced over at him and saw him running his nails down the neck of the bottle. They made a little scratching noise that had the hairs on her arms standing on end. Or maybe that was just the wind.
"She's your sister. It's her job to worry about you."
A disdainful look crossed Armaan's face, tightening the lines about his eyes. "You are going to lecture me?" he asked scornfully. "What the hell do you know about it? You don't even have a sister!"
His words sliced through her heart like the blade of a dagger. Pain shot along her nerve ends, choking her throat, stinging her eyes. She blinked at him in disbelief, struggling to breathe past the wall of agony in her chest.
"Right," she said, not bothering to keep the bitterness from her tone. "I don't know anything." She struggled to her feet, cursing her wounded ankle for making it more difficult. "I don't have a family, after all."
Her voice was so full of hurt that Armaan could have kicked himself. A rush of self-loathing washed over him and he closed his eyes, cursing himself mentally.
She started to leave but his arm shot out, a hand curling about her wrist. "Shilpa, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
He looked plaintively up at her, but she kept her eyes fixed on the balcony door, her face tight with some unreadable emotion.
"Please sit back down," he implored her.
He saw her close her eyes, saw her swallow, and he found himself waiting with baited breath for her answer. His heart actually started to pound and he suffered a few spikes of anxiety. But after a moment she opened her eyes again and nodded. He let go of her wrist and she sat down on the other chair.
"I'm sorry," he repeated. He placed the bottle on the ground and ran a hand through his hair, heaving a deep sigh. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. It's just... My whole life, Muskaan has been lecturing me about something or the other. She's always telling me, do this or don't do that. I'm sick of it! Why can't she just let me live my life the way I want to?"
"Because she loves you and she doesn't want to see you get hurt."
Armaan made a scoffing noise. "She has a funny way of showing it."
Shilpa's eyes narrowed. "Do you know how lucky you are to have someone who cares that much about you?" she asked.
"I wouldn't call it luck," he muttered.
She ignored him and carried on. "Do you know what it's like to be part of a family and yet not really be a part of it? To know that no one really wants you there? To know that if something were to happen to you no one would notice or even care?"
Armaan looked over at her, opening his mouth to say something, but the look on her face made the words die on his tongue. He'd never seen anyone with such a raw expression. Her eyes glittered, but it wasn't just sadness in them; there was some other emotion there too, one that Armaan couldn't define, but which sent chills down his spine.
"They really put you through hell, didn't they?" he asked softly. He itched to reach out and put an arm around her, heck, to pull her into his arms altogether and promise her that he would never let her feel like that again. But he didn't, sensing that she needed to say this, that she'd needed to tell someone for a while.
"The worst of it is knowing that they were right," she said, a terrible look crossing her face.
Armaan frowned, sure he'd misheard her. "Right? Shilpa, surely you can't think that-"
"That what?" she asked, turning to look at him. There were no tears in her eyes, that was what scared him the most. There was just a hollow emptiness, like she was dead inside. His heart thudded with horror. "That I deserved their hatred?"
Armaan started to say 'yes' but she shook her head.
"No, Armaan, I did deserve it. I do deserve it. I can't blame them for the way they treated me. They had every reason to shun me."
"Shilpa, what are you talking about?" He was truly frightened now. Her voice was so flat and cold, but that look in her eyes was even worse. It told him that she believed every word she was saying. "No one deserves to be treated like shit by their family. It's their duty to love you, no matter what."
"But it was my fault," she said, voice so faint he almost didn't catch her words. She looked back out over the city and her face went very still, her eyes cloudy, like she was far away in another world. "I did it."
"Did what?" he asked, catching her hand. He was so desperate to snap her out of that trance-like state, but she didn't even seem to notice him. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn't in the present. He rubbed her hand vigorously, but it didn't seem to have much effect. Her skin was like ice.
"I caused it," she murmured. A shudder went through her body and then she turned back to him, her green eyes meeting his unflinchingly. "I'm responsible for my parents' deaths."
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