by Carol Robi
“Sophia don’t. Not yet anyway.” What’s wrong with me! I wonder to myself. He kills people just with his touch! “I’ll teach you to stay alive with me and then we can touch..”
“Have you ever killed people?” I rush to ask, needing to break this dizzying spell of wild emotions. The long silences that stretches between us when I say this causes my heart rate to quicken.
“Yes,” he says.
“How many?”
“Very many.”
“How many exactly?”
“I don’t know. I stopped counting,” he says curtly. A cold sweat breaks at the back of my neck and trickles down my spine.
“Accidental?”
“Most of them. But those that occurred right after I was reborn were deliberate.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, not wanting to believe that he has a single cruel bone in his body.
“Exactly that. Deliberate. I wanted to touch human beings even though I knew it would kill them. I was constantly craving their touch, taunted by the life flowing in them, needing to inhale it, touch it, taste it, loose myself in it. I was like a junkie. Every new draugr is like a junkie. My father taught me to control my urges, to take what I need by just inhaling, without touching or tasting. It’s harder to control when touching or tasting.”
“So how exactly would we work,” I start, stopping to clear my throat when he turns his face towards me and I notice the fiery orange glow in his eyes that I now know he gets when hungry. “How would we work if we were to be together, when your touch kills.. How would I learn to..”
“You want to learn?” He asks hopefully.
“I am just curious, as a hypothetical situation,” I say.
“I see,” he says quietly. “I’d teach you.”
“What would you teach me?”
“For example, I’d tell you to fight me for the air, for your space. Don’t just give it all to me like you are right now.”
“I’m not giving you anything,” I say breathlessly.
“Yes you are,” he whispers back. “And it is so difficult not to just take it all away. A struggle really. With others I can maintain my calm, resist without a struggle. With you though..”
“What with me,” I whisper. I watch him turn away and close his eyes, but not fast enough that I miss the reddening of his eyes.
“Let’s just say I’d be happier when I don’t constantly fear that I’ll slip up and kill you, just when I have finally found you. I couldn’t..” he shudders now. “I couldn’t lose you now, Sophia.” I am unsure on how to react to this.
“Teach me,” I opt to say instead, and the sigh of relief he lets off is unmistakable.
“Close your eyes. Do it,” he urges softly. I look at him hesitantly, but then decide to do as he says. “Breathe slowly. Calm down your heart. I can hear its irregular beating. Just keep your eyes closed, relax and try calm down.”
“I’m..”
“Shh..” he says. “Don’t talk,” his voice is comforting. I relax into it. “No!” He suddenly cries out. My eyes fly open with confusion. “Don’t relax to me. That’s very dangerous.”
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“Relax, but maintain your own. Ignore the appealing ring in my voice, ignore whatever it is that makes you want to touch me, or..” he clears his voice at this, and I am grateful for the chilly breeze that now fans my warm cheeks.
“Your voice does not have an appealing ring to me,” I tell him.
“Alright,” he says. “Either way, hold tight. Hold your own as you relax. Remind yourself that I am as much affected by you as you are by me. We are equal, tell yourself that. Remind yourself that you have as much right to live as I do, despite my appeal.. ” I close my eyes and attempt to do as he says, which is saying I have no idea what I am doing.
“I feel stupid,” I say giggling, throwing my hands up in defeat.
“Don’t,” he says. I turn to face him with an amused smile on my face.
“Don’t? Is that the best you can tell me? You should try close your eyes and relax but try not to relax too much, but remember to hold your life to yourself from someone taking it from you by just breathing. You think you can do that, hotshot?” I ask him. Now he’s smiling too.
“Go ahead, Gauthier. Shut your eyes and do it,” I finish off laughing, Gauthier laughing too, his face so beautiful as he looks back at me, that I stop laughing and just look at him. He blinks a couple of times, each time he opens his eyes, they are a shade redder than they had been before, and burn brighter.
Now I’m terrified, but for the life of me I cannot seem to turn away. I remain arrested in his gaze.
“Do you feel it?” He asks quietly. “Do you feel it now?” I nod.
Yes I feel it. I feel myself weakening, not so fast, as when he’d touched me, or his father had stood before me and deeply inhaled my breath. It is a much slower rate of weakening that would easily go unnoticed.
“Do you..”
“Yes,” I say. “I feel it.”
“Will you let me? Are you just going to let me take it from you? To let me kill you? To let me take you away from your mother and brother..?”
“Of course not.”
“Then stop me.”
“How?”
“Fight me! Will you just give in..”
“No!” I say forcefully, clenching my fists.
“Good,” Gauthier says, pulling away. “Good start.”
“What?”
“You fought me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“How? I barely did anything. I just said no.”
“And clenched your fist, grinded your jaw and said that no with enough conviction that you were able to make me fight to feed on you.”
“Feed on me? Is that what you call it?”
“It’s sustenance,” he says shrugging.
“I’m your food?”
“You..” he chuckles nervously, and I relax at hearing him sound so vulnerable. “You are not just..”
“I don’t know how I feel about my soul mate for eternity feeding on me,” I mock him, and he turns to look at me, an embarrassed look on his face.
“You have to believe me. I do not want to feed.. to sustain myself on you.” I laugh, enjoying seeing him squirming uncomfortably. “I want to love you!” He says resolutely, shocking me, stopping my laughter.
“Gauthier..”
“If I could stop sustaining myself on you, I would. You have to believe me.”
“I do,” I surprise myself by saying. His eyes are discerning, a low orange glow, more dark than they’re orange, which tells me that he is staring at me with such intensity for another reason that is more prime than hunger.
“Are you ready for another round of resisting my charms?” He asks, smiling at me.
“Resisting your charms, huh?” I ask amused.
“Uh-huh!” He says, moving closer to me, so that his fingers are just inches away from mine, his face moving closer, so that he now leans over me, and I instinctively lean in even closer.
“Don’t get any closer,” he warns me with a dangerous underlying tone. It is a great struggle to not just lean in and press my lips against his which are so close.
“Why aren’t you fighting me anymore?” He asks. I close my eyes at the sweet warm breath that hits me. I lean closer again, just an inch, but I feel the tug, right before I start to weaken, my hands threatening to sag, my head getting dizzy.
“Fight!” He says with a growl. I look at him, my eyelids feeling very heavy and behold the red globes change to a striking purple, his head so close to me, a hazy grey smoke emanating from my lips and disappearing into his, and for a while all I can think is just how good it would feel to die at his mercy, to satisfy him, give his eyes that deep blue glow. His eyes are now green. Green like the shirt Tony wore today to the nightclub. Tony. Mom. I cannot die. I grit my teeth, clench my fists, even my toes curl, and the temple vein pops out as I concentrate
and hold back with all I’ve got. Hold myself back, my dreams, my hopes, my inhibitions, my fears; I hold them all back. They are all part of me. I do not want to lose them. I hold them tight to myself. I close my eyes and let myself inhale- and suddenly it stops.
My breathing is laboured, my chest heaves painfully as my lungs envelop the new bursts of air. But when I open my eyes again, my heart skips a beat at the sight of most glorious Indian green eyes burning bright, looking at me with open admiration and something else.
“You did it,” he says, his voice hoarse, and it sounds as though he too has had it difficult breathing.
“Did I?” I whisper in disbelief. He nods, the intense colour of his eyes starting to mellow down.
“You were amazing,” he says. I inch even closer to him, unsure of what I want to do. And move yet even closer, Gauthier looking at me helplessly, his eyes torn between what they want and what they oughtn’t take, the green dissipating back into a yellow green, then yellow, before it develops into a mellow orange glow, the air between us so thick.
“Don’t Sophia. You are still weak,” he whispers. I wonder if my breath on his lips affects him as much as his does me. I edge even closer, and feel myself weaken again, as the bliss of giving myself to him settles in, and I watch the colour in his eyes grow in intensity towards their cooler end of the spectrum. This time its him that breaks away, just as I collapse onto the wooden planks under my palms.
“Sophia! Leman? Please tell me you’re alright. Blink or something. I can’t touch you.. Oh thank heavens!” He exclaims when I blink. “You’re alright,” he says, as my eyes flutter open. “But you can’t.. don’t ever do that again. Don’t tempt me, for I can’t be strong with you. I can’t resist you. Promise me you’ll be patient until you’ve learnt to hold your own against me. Promise me!”
“I promise,” I manage to whisper weakly, still slumped over the wooden planks.
Chapter 17
I think I can be happy again. I think I am happy.
I’d forgotten what that could feel like. All I have had since dad’s death are slight moments of joy, rare moments of smiles that soon get wiped away once I remember why it is that I find myself here.
Things have changed though, subtly, but they’ve still changed. I find myself playing dad’s favourite guitar when I’m seated on my bed. I find myself talking to dad sometimes- on those moments, or when I wake up, or when I lie on the roof alone looking up at the stars above.
At first all I’d say was sorry, repeat it so many times until my voice was hoarse and sore, and my eyes were swollen and smarting. Sometimes Gauthier would walk in while I am at it, and look at me with such sad and defeated eyes, not knowing what he ought to do to make it better.
But that’s just it. No one but myself could make it better. Like Dr. Young said. I am the one to forgive myself. I am the only one hurting myself, just like Tony had been hurting himself, by not playing basketball. See how happy he is now, once he forgave himself and went back to playing basketball. I hope mom has had time to forgive herself. She always looks so strong, so I still don’t know if she ever broke at all. She must have though. She loved dad. But I fear she mightn’t have given herself time to grieve because she had to be strong for both Tony and I.
I know I have started healing when I start to smile on the times I talk to dad. Even when there are tears on my cheeks, I still smile or laugh. Soon my sorries are fewer, and I spend more time talking about my life, my school, my cheerleading, and Tony’s games. I tell him about my hilarious friend Amelia who, despite her braces that causes people to make misinformed judgments about her, has insane jokes and can make even the biggest or prettiest person cry just by teasing them, that is if she doesn’t first make them piss themselves from laughing. I tell him about Aiki and Maryanne, my other two friends on the cheerleading squad with me. I tell him how I suspect Aiki has a crush on Tony, and how I hope that Tony will stop sucking on Mandy’s arrogant face and notice Aiki who is a much nicer person and is not as silly or self-obsessed.
“You’d like her dad,” I tell him.
“Are you telling your dad about Aiki again?”
I turn with a silly wide smile at the sound of his voice and catch him sitting casually on my window sill.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hello,” he answers, smiling back. “I didn’t get to catch you after practice today.”
“Emily said it was about time we had a team building outing. We went for frozen yoghurt at ParadIce.”
“Cheerleaders have it so good. Having frozen yoghurt as a team-building exercise..” he stops talking when I wag a warning finger at his face.
“I could just use this teenie finger to trace that nicely chiseled face,” I threaten him. He shakes his head at me chuckling.
“You are insane. I never met anyone that would threaten me by putting their own life in danger. But then again, I never met anyone whose life is so important to me.”
Whatever I had to say remains unsaid, so I clamp my mouth shut. My heart is doing that thing again, and the air suddenly feels stifling hot, despite the slightly ajar window whose sill Gauthier is still sitting on. I feel the familiar pull towards him that sometimes takes over my features when he is near me. It is now occurring more often that before, growing in intensity the more we hang out together.
“We talk, not just eat frozen yoghurt and ice cream,” I say.
“You talk, huh? And that’s some important activity to do as a cheerleader.. Alright! I won’t tease you anymore,” he says when I get so close to him, that I start getting dizzy. Despite all that I want, I take a step back, my whole body recoiling against me as I do so.
“Anymore smart talk from you and I might just kiss you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, shocking myself as much as I shock him.
“I’d give anything to kiss you,” he says quietly, causing my stomach to twist in knots, and my knees to weaken. “But we have to wait, until you’re ready.”
“I can’t wait anymore,” I tell him. I am surprising myself with these honest outbursts.
“I know it feels so, but we must be patient. I can’t touch you yet, and I have to be able to touch you without killing you before I can even let myself think about kissing you..” he stops, his gaze fixed to my lips, his eyes starting to glow, red sparks coming alive in those dark pupils.
“I..” he brushes his hand over his hair, pushing back the locks that have fallen to his face. “I need to leave..”
“Gauthier..”
“I.. I am finding it hard to resist you today.”
“You are?”
“I am,” he tells me, and even though I had stepped back, I notice that his eyes still keep growing hotter and hotter.
“You’re hungry?” I ask him.
“You could say that.”
“Don’t you constantly feed from people around you.” He’d told me one day that it was impossible for him to ‘get hungry’ as there is always so much life to feed from around him. All the human beings in this city bustling with life around him, whose pockets of energy he can constantly feed off.
“This is a different kind of hunger,” he whispers, causing my stomach to tighten in knots. “It’s a hunger only you can quench, but you aren’t ready to.”
He leaves before I can stop him, and I am left collapsing onto my bed with a new hunger of my own. A hunger that haunts my dreams all night, with images of myself in Gauthier’s arms, torturous thoughts of how it would feel to have those lips pressed against my own.
Chapter 18
“Don’t move your face any closer.” I chuckle at this, and he looks at me puzzled.
We are parked by a cliff at the edge of Greenfield Forest, and Gauthier and I are seated at the bonnet of his car facing each other. It’s a beautiful autumn afternoon, and the wind has been kind today. Gentle. Cool, but not chilly. It’s quiet out here, silent. Beautiful, but my eyes are fixed on him. Nothing else around us, however breathtaking, can distract me from h
im.
“You are confusing me,” I tell him.
“Am I?” He asks, his eyes sparkling against the mellow sunlight.
“Yes,” I say, my thoughts scattered at the sight of his eyes, making it hard for me to remember what I wanted to say. “You tell me to move closer, then tell me not to move my face closer.”
“Just your hands,” he clarifies. He lifts his gloved hands now, raises his palms to face me. “Move just your hands. Bring them close, but don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me,” he says, his voice grave. I nod in answer.
“Don’t touch ..”
“I won’t,” I reassure him. “I won’t touch you,” I tell him, searching his eyes.
I lift my hands when he nods, and move them closer to his, my palms facing his, and stop about five inches from his palms. The pulling sensation is dizzying, and my mind screams at me to just throw myself at him, throw caution in the air, and revel in the bliss that will course through my body as his touch kills me. This long wait to touch him is weighing me down. However this need to let him just destroy me, kill me, is what weakens me. I have learnt that it is that need to be destroyed that makes him so easily take my life, my energy. I therefore stop it. Clamp it down. I do not want him to kill me. I want him to touch me, kiss me, but not kill me. I remind myself that I affect him just as much, and this thought strengthens me. The gravitational pull towards him is now under control, so I move another inch closer.
With just an inch between us, my mind is a whirlwind. My heart hammers against my chest, my breathing is laboured, my head hurts, and my vision is blurred. It hurts just to be, just to exist and not be in his arms. If he had not jumped away at that moment, I’d have thrown caution to the air and fallen into his arms.
“I need space,” he says walking away, and without warning, jumps off the cliff.
“Gauthier!” I scream, jumping off the car, running towards the edge of the cliff. I lie flat against my stomach and carefully look over the edge, only to find Gauthier hanging with one hand from a small nook some feet below, a wide smile on his face.