by Liz Strange
I kept silent for a few moments. When finally I spoke I chose my words carefully, and it was difficult as I fought back the building anger. Her voice had a cool, confrontational tone to it I had never heard before.
“Yes, I sleep, and yes, I know I look like crap. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
Her face was tight, like after the movies. I knew then that any chance of salvaging our friendship was dead, but I played the part for her benefit. I cowed under her stare.
“Well, I think this is just more proof that you need some kind of medical help with your sleeping issues. Last night we both heard you thrashing around, and you’re getting so thin, and pale looking. I mean the bags under your eyes look like unbelievably terrible… ”
Amanda smirked.
I rubbed my thumb along my lips nervously. “I know I’ve lost some weight, and I haven’t been getting out much. I’m assuming this is coming from some kind of concern?” Now my words were sharp.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Of course I’m concerned. I mean, I thought we were friends, or at least we used to be.” She pushed her chair out, and went to the counter to refill her cup. Without taking a sip, she returned her focus to me, and I could feel the intensity building. Beside me, Amanda shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I really don’t get what’s going on with you. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”
She paused, then a strange looked passed over her. “This isn’t still about that guy is it? Did you sneak out and meet him last night or something?”
“What guy?” Amanda piped up.
I glowered in her direction, but could not stop a flash of his beautiful face from appearing in my mind. “No, it’s not about some guy! For God’s sake, Shannon… you know I’m not you. I react to things differently!”
She balked. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I could barely control my anger then. “It means that it’s none of your business! I’m just going through some stuff, and it’s my stuff, and if you don’t like how I’m acting then stay away from me. I’m not asking for your help, and believe me, I’m not holding out for your understanding, because there is no possible way you could understand!” I was on my feet without being aware of standing.
“You are making absolutely no sense. You look like hell, Rachel. You’re irritable all the time, you zone out, and you never talk to anyone anymore. If you’re in trouble then you’d better speak up, ‘cause I’m not going to ask again. Are you on drugs? Are you being abused? What the fuck is going on?”
My body was rigid with anger. On one level I knew Shannon’s worry and irritation with me was legitimate— I was acting strangely. Yet a fury was brewing, and even though it was not completely justified, I couldn’t stop my reaction to her accusations. A cold stab of realisation went through my heart. This is how it felt to close yourself off from someone you loved. “Nothing is going on, and I’m asking you please to leave me alone. Things will work themselves out.”
“You know that’s not an answer.” Her eyes never wavered from my face.
“It’s the best answer you’re going to get.”
“Fine. If that’s the way you want it. You’re a big girl, and you have the right to do whatever you want with your life. Just remember I have tried to be a friend.”
Unexpectedly, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. “I know you have, and I appreciate it. More than you know.”
The tension in the room was unbearable. I picked up my cup and walked to the counter where Shannon stood. I looked into her eyes— full of worry and disappointment— and attempted to smile. “I’m okay, really.” Was I?
My words fell on deaf ears. “You know I don’t believe you, but there’s nothing I can do if you won’t tell me what’s going on.”
“Then that’s that… ” With those words, I left the room.
I paused at the bottom the stairs, feeling the tension drain out of my body. I heard Shannon return to the table, the scrape of her chair along the floor a chainsaw in my head. I cringed involuntarily. I became aware of a sharp pain in my palm, and looking down I realised my fists were clenched with such force my nails were biting into the skin. Amanda’s voice filtered out, “You’re right, she is being weird, and I haven’t seen her in a while, you know. She looks terrible. What’s with those bags under her eyes?” I silently wished her a painful encounter with a Mack truck.
Shannon was in agreement, her voice now more sad than angry. “She looks pretty rough.”
“Well, there’s nothing you can do if she’s going to be like that.”
“I guess not.”
Then Amanda said something that made my heart thunder into high gear. “Did you see that mark on her neck? I’ve never seen a hickey like that before.”
“I noticed too. Why would she let someone do that to her?”
I couldn’t listen any longer after that. As silently as I could, I made my way back up the stairs to the bathroom. I looked at my reflection once again, seeing the same chalky skin, tired eyes and a new tightness from the effects of the tense conversation. I suspected this appearance was a stage, a prelude to a metamorphosis. I could feel it in my flesh and bones, and the blood rushing through my veins. I had seen it in his eyes, the image flashing in my mind. As sure as I was of this change being inevitable, I was also sure it would mean saying good-bye to everything I had previously been and known.
I let the temperature rise to almost scalding before stepping into the shower, and relished the feeling as the water pounded down on my weary body. I ached terribly. The steam filled the room and my lungs, its presence at once soothing and cleansing. My mind turned this way and that, thoughts shooting off into wild tangents incorporating both fact and fantasy. I saw flashes of events that had already occurred, and of things I surmised were yet to come. It was exhausting trying to sort it all out.
A terrible anguish filled up my chest, pressing outward, needing to find an escape. “Let it go,” my mind pleaded with itself. Then I did. There, under the hot umbrella of water and protected from prying eyes and ears, I released it all. My tears were lost in the water, terrible sobs wracking my body. I sat there until the water turned cold, letting go of all my fear, resentment and insecurity. I let the scars of my soul wash down the drain along with the dirt from my body.
When it was done, I was renewed, empowered and secure in a way that was foreign to all those I would soon leave behind.
I stood there, naked and dripping wet, smiling at my reflection in the mirror. Then, after wrapping myself in a towel, I returned to bed, where I spent the remaining daylight hours tossing in a fitful sleep, dreaming of him.
Chapter 6
That night arrived in a cool, quiet whisper that roused me from my draining sleep. I stretched, my back arched like a cat. I hovered on the edges of wakefulness, enveloped in the comforting vestiges of sleep, when my brain snapped back to reality. In a flash, I was at the window looking out into the waiting darkness. I half expected to find him resting on the window’s ledge, a playful and deadly seductive smile on his lips. He wasn’t there, though, but I wasn’t worried. He would be there soon.
I threw on a comfortable pair of tights, and my favourite black sweater. I caught sight of myself in the mirror on my vanity as I pulled my hair from the neck of my sweater. The bite was barely visible. It had improved drastically during my slumber, no more noticeable than a freckle. In fact, my appearance all around was greatly improved. I was still pale, but I wasn’t as unhealthy-looking as before. My skin had a soft sheen, a slight luminescence catching the light. My eyes were alive with vibrant colour, sapphires set against the backdrop of my unblemished skin. The changes had already started.
My attention was drawn away to the framed picture atop the vanity’s surface, with my jewellery, perfume and other assorted personal items. It was a picture of my mother and me, taken when I was about eleven years old. We were both caught frolicking on the beach, with the grey-blue Atlantic Ocean filling the background. My mother
had her face turned up toward the photographer, her smile wide, and happiness in her eyes. I was just below her, in the process of emptying a bucket of sand to help in the construction of an enormous castle we had been working on. That was one of the last family vacations I can remember taking, with both my parents and my brother in attendance. A lump of remorse formed in my throat. My father had been dead for many years and my brother lived several hours away in another city with his wife and small children. My mother had moved on to a new life of her own. Days like that died a long time ago.
I took one last look at myself then turned the picture down before I left the room. The house was unnaturally quiet. I assumed Shannon had gone out, or left for work early, and I was glad for the chance to get out without a confrontation. I didn’t have the patience for questions I could not answer, and I was too keyed up to lie. I had an undeniable urge to get outside. I pulled a pair of boots from the closet and laced them up tightly. I also grabbed my long coat and hat, and headed out into the crisp night air.
The whole neighbourhood seemed to be wrapped in the same unnerving silence as the house. I was all but bursting with anticipation, knowing without question he would keep his promise to return to me.
A slight breeze caused the trees to sway lazily, and I noticed that they gave off a wonderfully sweet smell I had not noticed before. It had snowed, the first snowfall of the year blanketing the ground with a soft covering of whiteness. As I moved down the driveway, the ground crackled under my feet, and filled me with childish delight. My skin was the exact colour of the snow, and both glowed bright and clear. All my senses were alive with anticipation, and it was wonderful.
The feeling of that night was complete and total fascination. My eyes saw farther, and more clearly than ever before. I could hear, and smell and taste things in the night no one else could be aware of. It was as if the night was its own entity, a being capable of communicating with me through every surface of my body. My senses were attuned to its intimate, secretive whisper as it offered up the wisdom hidden in its darkness. It took great effort to keep myself focused.
I walked to the park that wrapped around the back-end of my subdivision. As I made my way by houses I had passed a hundred times before, I looked at them with fresh eyes. All my senses were heightened, to a level that was almost painful.
I pressed on, my footsteps ringing loudly in the empty street. I savoured the coldness of the air as it penetrated my lungs.
Before I knew it, I entered the park, and the tennis courts loomed before me. A slightly off-kilter lamppost over the courts cast sinister, elongated shadows across the asphalt surface. I passed the empty courts, and the illusion of safety and visibility they offered, to head deeper into the heart of the darkness. My body hummed with excitement, muscles tensed under my pale, taught skin.
A sharp, but almost undetectable buzzing sounded in my ears. The cold air prickled softly at my exposed skin, but the sensation warmed me with its friction.
My throat narrowed tightly. I couldn’t have made a sound if I’d wanted to. Silently, a sprinkle of wet flakes landed on my face. I did not need sound to announce my presence. What was waiting for me in the darkness was linked to me in a way that transcended human senses and emotions. My brain filled with a flash of the park as seen out of his eyes, his line of sight angled toward me from the far end of the field where the public school was situated. Brilliant sparks burst in my stomach. A whisper of wind lifted my hair.
Then the air changed. It was very subtle, but I was so attuned to the feeling of it around me I noticed the change immediately. It grew darker, the air denser. The night circled in around me like a spotlight. What lay beyond a five-foot radius was lost as if behind a closed door. I waited precariously, wavering between the sureties that he was close, and the uncertainty of what our meeting would bring. Then I heard his voice, soft and silvery inside my brain.
“Come to me,” he said.
I was so ebullient, that at the sound of his voice my body was shocked into immobility. I closed my eyes, images of him swimming across the inside of my lids. A warm flush crept up my neck, and onto my face. Moving deeper into the park, my feet carried me along swiftly and surely, though I was walking blind. I felt a gentle pull, reminiscent of the touch of his hands on my body. I was not afraid, or even uncertain. I knew without doubt I should be there.
Then, without sound or movement, his hands were in my hair. I shuddered, my need of him shooting painfully to the surface of my consciousness. He hungrily moved his mouth to my bare neck, his soft lips hovering on the wound he had inflicted the night before. His tongue probed its rough surface, eliciting both pleasure and pain. I was drawn against his body, my shivering convulsions against his firm chest. It was suddenly damp and warm between my legs, my entire being consumed with greedy, selfish desire.
Aggressively, I was thrust back from his embrace. I snapped my eyes open, and his face swam hazily into focus. The snow fell softly upon his ebony hair, leaving streaks of wetness, like tears on his beautiful face. His eyes were brilliant jewels. I reached my hand out tentatively to touch his face, and he smiled. There was something sweet and innocent about his smile, a hint of the boy he must have been, hiding behind the man.
I wanted to speak, but my mind was locked, and my throat as dry as sand. In all honesty, I don’t know what words would have been worthy of breaking that moment between us. I couldn’t take my stare away from his face, and his eyes never wavered from mine. The wind swirled around us, blowing delicate snowflakes onto our hair and clothes.
I received an unexpected flash of his face, bloody and savage, as it was in my bed the night before. With my free hand I reached to my neck and stroked the bite mark. Then his other hand closed over mine, pulling it away. His fingers lightly brushed the tender flesh, causing a terrible throbbing as the blood rushed through the vein. I tried to resist, but couldn’t stop my eyes from slipping shut.
The only thing I was aware of was my blood and the wind. “Open your eyes and look at me. Please.” His voice was gentle and light.
I opened my eyes, pushing away the agony of need contorting my body, and forced myself to concentrate on his face. His eyes burnt like demon fire, turning the blue to violet, and as I looked into them my body relaxed. I stumbled, limbs heavy and my senses dulled. The tips of his elongated teeth were in his smile.
Then in a glitch of space and time, his face was less than an inch from my own. My body shuddered. He leant over my upturned face, and gently pressed his lips against mine. I pressed back, unable to get close enough, crushing my mouth into his. I was beyond reasoning, humility or the capacity to care for anything other than my immediate physical desires. I wanted nothing more than to lie down with him on the soft blanket of snow, and have him ravage me in any way he wanted. I knew with unshakable conviction that I would follow him to the ends of the earth if he wanted me to.
“I know, Rachel. I feel the same way.” His velvet voice responded to my unspoken words. “I feel the need to be with you, every bit as much as you feel the need to be with me. I have never met another woman who has affected me like you have. I guess I didn’t think that it was even possible to have these types of feelings anymore.” He paused, his eyes drifting up to the sweeping of stars against the grey sky, then back to my eyes that were brimming with tears. “Each moment that I am not with you, I hunger. Not just a physical craving but also an emotional one. I also feel your sickness at our separations and your longing for me. If you give your heart to me here tonight, I promise I will love you for all eternity. I know I have no right to ask this of you, or any woman for that matter, because of what I am.” His eyes lowered from mine, and when he spoke again his voice was tight with pain. “I am a monster.”
“You’re not a monster,” I replied.
He looked me straight in the face then, eyes blazing. “Yes, I am a monster, but I have discovered that I am still capable of love.”
Those words stood between us, the meaning both powerful and omin
ous. “I need to hear the words, Rachel. Your thoughts are jumbled. I can’t take the risk of misunderstanding. This is too important.”
A collage of emotions filled me at his words, and fear seemed to be the overwhelming leader of all the feelings rushing through me. I thought of the hospital deaths, the two attacks I witnessed psychically, and the pain I experienced from his bite. I lingered in that murky space between fear and lust.
He stared at me, with eyes full of longing. A sharp bolt of pain shot into me. With our connection open like it was in that moment, his inner turmoil was savagely projected into me. Still I could not speak. I trembled as I thought of all the things I would have to leave behind, and of all the things I did not understand. A petulant cloud of uncertainty washed through me, and I was caught off guard by my faltering resolve.
He traced his cold hand along the edge of my jaw, and down my neck. Flakes of wet snow fell on my cheeks. There was a flash in my mind of the two of us locked in our deadly embrace, and my body rocked with the force of the memory. Then, in a whirl of darkness and snow, my love was gone.
Instantly, I crumpled to the cold, wet ground, a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut. My tears burst forth with fury, and gigantic, heaving sobs escaped from my lips. I pounded my fists against the frozen ground.
“Come back to me,” I wailed into the wind. “Please, Giovanni, come back to me. I’m sorry… I love you.” I raised myself into a seated position, the dampness soaking into my leggings, making icy contact with my skin.
I waited for what seemed like an eternity, my dreadful howls dying into the silence of the night. My tears froze against my stinging cheeks. My heart felt shrivelled and black, a tiny raisin in my chest. An anguished breath rattled my chest. Seeing and hearing nothing, I pushed myself to my feet to begin the walk home.
With a whisper of sound he returned. He stopped about ten feet away, the swirling snow a shimmering curtain to his dark clothes and hair. His expression was solemn and still. As I closed the distance between us, I discerned tears mingled with the wetness of the snow on his cheeks, streaks slightly tinged with red.