Chapter 8 – Then What Happens To Me?

~ MELONIE ~ Arwan's statement replayed in my head, my giant fear stood tall, my heart beating in horror. If Mrs. Hunter dies, I'm in trouble; if I fight back, I'm still in trouble. “Fuck this!” I murmured, biting my lips, “What do I do?” I paced around the room, my mind was a jumble of thoughts, each one tangled and twisted, making it impossible to think clearly. I walked over to Clara's room, knocking on the door, “Clara it's me,” I called out. Everywhere went silent, I got no reply, “Clara,” I called again with a pleading voice. “Go away, Melonie,” her voice rang out. “Please, Clara, I need you right now, we need to talk,” I begged desperately. Everywhere grew silent again, and then I heard a click. “Clara, I'm sorry, I know you are mad at me,” I stated as Clara unlocked the door. She stared at me calmly, “I'm not mad at you, Melonie… I'm just - Anxious and…” “I know. And I'm anxious, too. I'm at the center of all this trouble. How do you think I feel?” I explained. “That's why you have me, you have us.” She stated in encouragement. “I know you think it's just you, but it's not. It's us all immediately we got tangled with you. You are in charge of this realm, only you can save it, Melonie.” I stared at her, how easy it was for them to accept, “Mrs. Hunter will not die,” I blurted out in refusal. She blinked, holding my hands, “Even if she doesn't die, you will have to fight at some point. Look what happened today after fighting one dark walker; she got severely injured. What do you think will happen next time? Especially if it's two or more? And trust me, those things are a lot,” she stated calmly. “What happens if Mrs. Hunter dies?” I asked, still verifying the situation. Clara’s face turned sour, “Melonie…” “Just tell me!” I pestered. “War! We have been a target even without you being around. Mrs. Hunter has been protecting this realm with a spell, so no other creatures can come in without struggling. And that's why most times one dark walker comes in instead of hundreds, thousands or millions. If Mrs. Hunter dies, there will be no one else to protect us, the spell will be broken, and a lot of dark walkers will swim in. And no one can fight them except you, I'm sorry your destiny is this horrifying, but this is your home now, and you have no choice but to protect your home,” Clara announced softly. I nodded my head in understanding, dragging my feet out of her room. “So Arwan wasn't lying? I was hoping he was. Hundreds... thousands... millions?” I thought to myself with tear-filled eyes. Arlo stood in front of the door, he seemed to have eavesdropped on the conversation. “Melonie…” he called with arms stretched wide. I walked towards him as he wrapped me in his arms, “You'll be fine Melonie, you have your Arlo here with you,” he voiced out calmly, squeezing me tightly. Tears streamed down my face like a relentless rain, each drop a tangible manifestation of the sorrow that gripped my heart. I wept with a depth of emotion that shook my very being. My eyes, red and puffy from the deluge of tears, felt like they were burning with a fire that couldn't be quenched. My nose was stuffy, and my throat constricted as if the grief itself was choking me. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair, with no lifeline to cling to. The weight of my sorrow was crushing me, pressing down on me like a physical force that I couldn't escape. As I wept, I felt like I was mourning the loss of something precious, something that could never be replaced. Of course, I was mourning my freedom, my peaceful life, my best days were until I turned eighteen, I should have lived those days and cherished them well. As soon as I turned eighteen, tragedy struck. I couldn't catch my breath, couldn't calm my racing heart. The tears just kept coming, a never-ending torrent of sadness that seemed to have no end. I was a vessel, overflowing with grief, and I didn't know how to stop the flood. “Make up your mind Melonie, you can choose to run, but they will come after you,” Arlo's voice sounded out. I hit his chest with my fist and he giggled loudly, “You fool, how's that supposed to make me feel better?” I cried out, new tears filling my eyes. “C'mon, Melonie… stop crying, hmm,” Arlo stated calmly, patting my back. **🥀** I walked into my room and slammed the door shut. If my life were this hard, why exactly was I born? My mother should have just left me unborn; I'd be twerking for Jesus and singing praises as we speak rather than going through this horror. I was drowning in my own emotions, one minute away from breaking down. After a long staring contest with the wall, I dashed out of the room again, walking towards Arwan's room - I stormed in. As I pushed open the door, I was met with a sight that made my heart skip a beat. Standing in the middle of the room, his back to me, was Arwan, who seemed to have been carved from the very gods themselves. His broad, muscular chest was a testament to his strength and power. The defined ridges of his pectorals rose and fell with each steady breath, like the gentle swell of waves on a summer shore. He was covered in sweat as if he had just finished a rigorous workout. The muscles in his back rippled and flexed as he moved, like the gentle lapping of waves on a summer shore. As he turned to face me, I felt my cheeks flush with a sudden warmth. His chest was a masterpiece of masculine beauty, with defined pecs and a chiseled six-pack that seemed to be sculpted from granite. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air thick with tension. I felt like I had been punched in the gut, my breath knocked out of me by the sheer magnitude of his physical presence. Then, a slow smirk spread across his face, and he raised an eyebrow in shock. "Hey," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. “You should knock before you come in." I felt like I had been caught in a dream, a dream from which I didn't want to wake up. I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "Hey," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, “I-I - huh - it was an emergency.” As he stood tall, his chest seemed to expand, filling the space around him with an aura of quiet confidence and unyielding strength. “If you came here to say something, say it and stop eye-fucking me,” his voice rang out, elbowing me back into reality. I snapped my head at him, “What the Fuck! I wasn't even looking.” “Lies, Melonie… lies,” he retorted, “What do you want?” “I came to tell you I'm ready. I'm ready to fight.”