Cerulean (Book one in series)

by A. L. Singer

  I stood up, convincing myself I could go upstairs. Just a quick trip to my room; grab some clothes and return to the downstairs. My legs felt heavy but moved anyway. I crossed the dining room into the foyer and paused, careful not to look up. I put my hand on the railing and slowly climbed the steps, looking down the whole time. Finally the last step was under me, and I turned right, toward my room. I kept my eyes down until I got to my door and stepped inside. I turned the light on and went straight to my dresser. I pulled out a few more lightweight shirts and a few pairs of socks. I grabbed my last two pairs of jeans, and then went to my closet. I threw a pair of sandals onto the pile I held. Going back to my dresser, I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms. My hand brushed up against something soft and silky. I lowered myself to the floor and tucked my legs under me. I let my pile of clothes fall to the floor beside me. I brushed the other cotton pajamas to the side of the drawer.

  There lay the little black nightgown I had made a special trip to the mall for years ago. I looped my fingers through the thin straps and lifted it up to admire. The pretty pink tag still hung daintily off to the side. I had bought it the first day Gavin was off on his trip with the guys. It had sat here buried under my pajamas for years now. It was made of soft black silk. It had fallen just above my knees when I tried it on and looked at my reflection in the dressing room mirror. The front went down to a low V and the back did the same, stopping just below the small of my back.

  Again I thought about how long it had been since I’d been with a man. Felt his hands on my body, his mouth on mine. My hands dropped to the layer of silk draped over my lap. For the first time in a long while I allowed myself to remember what it was like. Making love to Gavin, sharing everything you are. So intimate and exposed. I closed my eyes and thought of Sorin, the past few days with him. I recalled the first time I opened my eyes and saw his face. I thought he was an angel. His wonderful smell, his voice, his ice-blue eyes. My stomach fluttered a little. I looked back down at the nightgown. No more “tomorrow”! I thought. Why wait for the next day to act? Life had clearly shown me that tomorrow may not come.

  Sorin had been a gentleman the past few days. Never had made me feel uncomfortable. When he touched me, it was always in a gentle, caring way. He even looked away when I slipped out of my jeans before crawling to bed. Nothing had been inappropriate between us. My heart had skipped a beat once or twice. I relived his hand caressing my feet, massaging my calf. I sighed and let myself continue to imagine his hands touching me. Caressing other parts of my body. Butterflies slowly filled my stomach. What if there wasn’t a tomorrow? What would I do tonight—right now? It wasn’t unheard of, a woman turning to a man for comfort. To lose herself for a night or two, even with a stranger. I imagined he would be just as gentle and attentive in the bedroom. …

  There was a thud, and I jumped, my head shooting past my open door to the hallway. I threw the nightgown onto the pile of clothes and stood up. I shoved the bottom drawer shut with my foot and turned around. I turned off my light and shut my door behind me. I looked back down at the cream carpet on the hallway floor. I walked past my parents’ room and the stairs to the attic. I stepped quietly and stood outside the guest room door. No light came out from underneath the frame. I didn’t hear movement, so I leaned closer. Suddenly the shower turned on. Had Sorin been gone all day, or was he just getting up? I turned, put my eyes to the floor, and returned downstairs.

  I rushed to the guest room that had become my refuge and dumped the pile of clothes onto the foot of the bed. I went to take a shower, leaving the bathroom light off but the door open. The light from the room drifted in. I undressed, tossing my clothes to the corner of the bathroom. I washed my hair, enjoying the orange scent. Lathered the honey-scented body wash over myself and shaved, careful not to cut myself this time. After I dried off and wrapped a towel around my body I walked to the foot of the bed. I stood there and stared at the pile of clothes. The nightgown had slipped to the floor. I picked it up and carried it to the bathroom. I placed the shimmer of silk on the counter in front of the mirror and gently trimmed the tag away. I stepped back and looked in the mirror. A distorted blur reflected back. I turned the light on and used the towel wrapped around me to wipe the condensation from the mirror.

  I studied my reflection, hardly recognizing it. My stomach twisted, and I felt sick. My eyes looked flat, vacant. Had Sorin really commented on my color last night? My skin was pale. The tan I had acquired two weeks ago while painting a tree outdoors had faded. Running a hand over my abdomen, it felt strange, empty. … I felt empty. My cheeks looked hollow, and I frowned. I remembered what Sorin had said. “I was only trying to keep you from wasting away.” Was that how he saw me? Skin and bones. Pale and empty. That’s what was staring back at me—a shell of my former self.

  I crumpled to the floor and clutched the towel to my chest. I lifted the damp plush cotton to my face and screamed into it. My head stared to spin. Who had I become? This wasn’t me. A week ago I was strong, independent, in control, content, happy … loved. Where was that woman, I wondered. Would I find her again, or was she lost forever? I hated the tears that stung my eyes. The very act of crying was something I now loathed. It was all I seemed to do. I was never emotional like other girls. Never cried to get what I wanted with my parents. Never did it to get out of a speeding ticket. I rarely cried before the accident. Now it had become a daily occurrence, and I hated it. I wanted it to be over, this pain inside. The constant ache in my heart and soul. I wanted to feel something else—anything else.

  Frustrated, I kicked the bathroom cupboard door in front of me, letting out another scream. The nightgown fell off the countertop above me and landed at my feet. I reached out for it, running my fingers over the soft smooth silk. I wanted to feel something other than anguish. I thought of Sorin’s voice. The one he used that could make me drift off. Wonderfully fade away to a complete peace. I thought of his lips, his hands on me. …

  My thoughts rapidly spun out of control. I fantasized about how his hands would feel exploring my body. I envisioned his fingers tracing my face, down my neck, lightly over my collarbone. If Sorin could affect me so easily at times with his eyes and voice, I wanted to know what he could with his body. I imagined him leaving a path of soft kisses over my skin. He could heal this hurt inside me, help me forget. …

  In that instant, I decided. I stood up and slid the nightgown on. The straps crossed against my back. All the pain inside me, all the sorrow, suddenly turned into determination. I wanted to feel his arms around me. I wanted to feel a million butterflies inside. I longed for my heart to race and feel excited about something again.

  Leaving the guest room I headed upstairs, images of us in each other’s arms filling my head the whole way there. The closer I got to his door, the more graphic my thoughts became. My cheeks flushed, and my heart began to beat faster. Suddenly I was outside his door, about to burst in and throw myself at him. My hand on the doorknob. What if he rejected me? It was a real possibility, right? No, what man would turn away a young, willing, barely dressed woman? I exhaled a deep breath. That outcome was absurd. But I did decide to change my approach.

  Still no light from under the doorway. I turned the knob slowly and opened the door just enough for me to slip through. The curtains were darker in this guest room, and less moonlight came through them. It was difficult to make out the shape of the bed in the dark. I stepped lightly toward it, until my knee bumped the wooden frame under the comforter. I leaned over, searching for the edge of the bedding and then slowly pulling it back. I slipped under the sheet and lay on my side, facing him.

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I was now nervous, my body lightly shaking as I reached out under the blanket. I was planning on caressing his chest or back. I kept waiting for my hand to come into contact with his skin. I reached farther. Nothing. I slowly adjusted my body closer to his side of the bed. I took another deep breath and reached farther. Then I felt
it. The edge of the bed. My heart sank.

  I threw back the covers and rushed to the light switch, flipping it on. The room was empty and in perfect condition. Sorin’s clothes weren’t lying around. No books were removed from the shelf near the bed. No cell phone, no keys, no bag with his belongings. He was gone—just the left without even saying good-bye.

  “He promised,” I said out loud. “He said he would stay as long as I wanted.” The same thought kept repeating in my head: He left. I’ve been abandoned again.

  I shut off the upstairs guest room light and slowly descended the stairs to my current room. I felt hopeless. Having Sorin near me these few past days had brought me some comfort. I had found peace for a few minutes, even if how that sense of peace came about was suspicious. I reached my current room, turned the light on, and sat on the foot of the bed.

  The past week crashed in on me. My parents here one day and then abruptly gone, ripped from my life. Sorin entering my life, compassionate and caring … or so I thought. He chose to leave me, to just pack and go. I was alone, no one to help me drift off to sleep. Comfort me in some mysterious way. My eyes wandered around the room. I felt rejected and alone. I didn’t want to be aware of all this current pain; I didn’t want to be aware, period. Having just woken up a little over an hour ago, trying to go back to sleep now naturally would be impossible. I considered going to the kitchen and drowning myself in a bottle of wine. But I’d never really liked the taste of alcohol. Probably why Leo trusted me working in his establishment as a bartender. He knew I never helped myself to drinks on the side.

  My eyes drifted, resting on a prescription bottle sitting on the vanity across the room. I had forgotten all about it. Gina had left it for me the first night after we’d come back from the hospital. It was half her prescription for sleeping pills. She had said she had more at home, and if I really needed to take one, I should; it would help me sleep. Gina had also warned me they were pretty strong and not to drive after taking one. I crossed the room and picked up the bottle. Other than an occasional aspirin for a headache, I avoided any kind of medicine. I had viewed these pills as a false security or comfort, a loss of control which now was ironic. I hadn’t given the pills a second thought. Until now. But whatever it was that Sorin did to me was exactly what I had avoided up to now. I read the label: Gina’s name and address. Bright yellow stickers lined the side of the bottle. A circle with a plate of food and an X over a car.

  Gina really was distraught the first night; we all had trouble going to sleep. I pictured her comforting Jenny. For twins, they couldn’t have looked more unalike; they were fraternal twins, not identical, but they didn’t even look like sisters. Gina had brown hair and brown eyes. Her skin appeared to hold a summer tan even in the middle of winter. The total opposite of blonde, blue-eyed Jennifer. But Gina was just as sweet and caring as her twin sister. She took care of the business part of the coffee shop. She did the schedules, payroll, and product orders. I wasn’t surprised that she needed a sleep aid once in awhile.

  The dosage said one pill, and Gina had given me the impression that would be plenty. I put a single pill in my palm and set the bottle back down on the vanity. A glass of water still sat on my nightstand, and I swallowed the water to wash down the pill. I crawled under the sheet, lay still in the bed, and waited for the darkness to embrace me. I reflected on my life while I waited. I was all alone, with nobody to comfort me. No one to share myself with tomorrow. Tomorrow, I thought. Why continue into yet another day? Only to feel abandoned, rejected? Another day wandering around a now-empty house.

  I didn’t have to suffer through another day, wondering how many more days would pass till the pain eased. I really didn’t want to keep going; I felt devoid of any worth. I stared at the bottle of pills again and decided I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. I flung the sheet back and started across the room. My head spun, and I knew the single pill was entering my system as I felt the first of its effects. I rushed myself across the room and slammed into the vanity. A few bottles toppled over, and the phone bumped into the bottle of pills. I picked up the phone and tossed it across the room. I wouldn’t be changing my mind.

  Twisting the lid off the bottle, I dumped the full contents into my hand. I briefly felt guilty for the false strength I must have conveyed—enough for Gina to trust me with her prescription. She would blame herself. But I couldn’t think about that. I lifted the pills to my mouth, intending to ingest every last one and be done with this misery that had become my life.

  Chapter 8

  I heard the door crash open. Suddenly the pills were flying into the air, and Sorin was yelling at me, shaking me. He had knocked the pills out of my hand and grabbed me by the shoulders. “What are you doing, Mia?” He growled, inches from my face.

  I was speechless, thinking he had left without as much as a good-bye. For him to be right in front of me, yelling at me, was jarring. “I thought … you left,” was all I could manage to whisper.

  Sorin’s eyes were piercing, his face full of rage. My heart felt like it was about to pound out of my chest. I had the fleeting thought he might injure me himself. “How many?” he yelled, shaking me. My head tingled. I didn’t understand what he was asking. “How many pills did you take, Mia?” Holding me at arm’s length, Sorin’s eyes searched the confetti of pills at our feet. He looked back up and quickly surveyed me.

  I tried to gather my thoughts. Pulling away slightly, I attempted to free myself from his grasp. But Sorin pulled me against his body with such force that it knocked the air right out of me. He gritted his teeth and buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply a few times. Was he really smelling me? I started shoving him away again, but the pill I had swallowed was starting to cause the room to spin. “Let go of me!” I finally shouted at him.

  A growl escaped him, and he yelled again, “How many pills did you take?” When I didn’t answer, Sorin’s eyes shot past me to the bathroom behind me. Before I could wiggle loose, he caught me by the wrist and dragged me into the bathroom. He flipped the light switch on and put the toilet seat up. I jerked against his grasp, screaming, “No!” Sorin wanted me to make myself sick, to vomit over one little pill. “Do it,” he demanded through clenched teeth, starting to pull me closer.

  “One!” I yelled. “I swear … I only took one.” I was frantic to get away from him. Again, he pulled me against him and buried his face and my neck. He swore something against my skin, his grip crushing my wrist. “You’re hurting me!” I cried out. He slammed the toilet lid back down and forced me to sit. In one swift motion Sorin moved to the bathroom door, closed it, and sat down in front of it, facing me. He was blocking me from leaving, and for the first time I felt scared.

  I looked down at myself and realized I was still wearing the black silk nightgown. My cheeks started to warm. Uncoordinated, I slid to the bathroom floor, wedging myself between the toilet and bathroom cupboard. I awkwardly flung my hand over my head and grabbed for a towel above me. I finally felt one and pulled it down to cover myself with. I didn’t take my eyes off of Sorin, his head leaning back against the bathroom door. His left leg was bent up with his left arm resting on it. His eyes were shut and frown lines filled his forehead. Go away!” I managed, shaking and feeling desperate.

  Sorin lifted his head and opened his eyes. “Mia, if I could leave you … I swear I would.” His tone was heavy and bitter. “This … you are almost too much for even me to handle.” He rubbed his temple and closed his eyes briefly. His shoulders relaxed slowly, and he lowered his hand from his temple. Sorin’s face softened slightly, and he shook his head. “Maybe I went about this all wrong … I mean, maybe I should have just told you the truth.” I couldn’t make sense of his words. “I just thought it would be too much for you … so soon after the loss of your parents.” He rested his head back against the door again. Looking pensive, he paused for a minute. His eyes traveled over me, and I brought my knees up to my body, increasingly thankful that the oversized towel covered me.

>   Finally he spoke. “Mia … I need to tell you something. I want you to truly listen to the words I am about to say … and believe me.” My head was starting to tingle more, and my body was slowly relaxing against my will. I struggled to focus. “Mia, I am not like you. … I mean I am very different from your kind.” Sorin spoke softly, cautious. “It is difficult for me to explain exactly what I am to you.” He glanced at the floor, searching again for the right thing to say. His words started to sink into my head, and I tried to decipher their meaning: “not like you”; “different from your kind.” What was he trying to explain? My head started to get really foggy, and I thought of the first time I’d heard his voice and seen his angelic face. My eyes widened. Angel … I thought. Sorin is my angel after all.

  “I know,” I quickly blurted out, and his eyebrows rose as he looked at me. “I know what you are,” I said. He was an angel; I convinced myself. His ice-blue eyes, his voice, even his scent. It all relaxed me and helped me find peace. He somehow was exactly what I needed right now. The timing of it was all too perfect. He himself had said that he saved my mother’s life years ago. Now he was here trying to save my life, trying to save me from myself. I could no longer support my head, and leaned back against the wall behind me. I sighed. “An angel.” I smiled softly. “You’re my angel, Sorin.” His face showed a mixture of surprise and disgust at my explanation. My heart fell; I was wrong. “But your voice,” I moaned. “The way you make me feel. You knew about the pills. Sorin, you knew what I was about to do and stopped me.” My eyes quickly teared up. I couldn’t be wrong about him.

  “You are right, Mia … I can influence you in many ways, and I did know what you were about to do. I should have confessed it all from the beginning, and I do realize that … just too late. I will do my best to explain it to you now. First, I am no angel, Mia … not even close. …” His voice trailed off.