I get the feeling that I have to accept a few things before I can really move on. I have this vision in my head of the person I am. The person I was when I look back and remember liking myself. And it is gone. I’m so far from that girl that the last time I truly remember liking myself in all my glory was as a teenager. Before my heart had a chance to break and stay broken. Before I had to truly undertake any real sense of responsibility and had the inherent freedoms and captivity of a young person. In some ways I will never truly be free only because of what I am tied to. Immortality comes with a perilous cost.
Everyone fights for acceptance of flaws no one else can see but them. I want to see myself as the person I was inside. I almost wish that my outer appearance is what changed and not my inner nature. But not so. I look the same and feel like a bandaged and wounded mummy underneath my skin. I think that anyone who sees me long enough sees the bandages and not the beautiful exterior that still exists.
I miss that girl… who I was. But, have come to the dark realization that I will never be that persona again and have begun to dissect what remains. I’ve concluded that I am in fact, indeed what I loathed and wanted to avoid becoming the most. A bitch. However, I am not an evil bitch so I suppose that counts for something.
I’ve grown tired of apologizing for who I am now because everyone remembers the person I was. I have less than half of the patience that I used to and absolutely no sympathy for people who refuse to help themselves.
I am no longer as compassionate or loving and even though I like this guy, one wrong move and I find myself less forgiving than I know I would have been less than two hundred years ago. All of which is attributed to Clarke.
He is, well, basically another Troy. The same kind of person underneath the ever charming exterior. The kind of person who everyone he surrounds himself with knows him to be an upstanding sort of guy. A person who can be relied upon and helpful. Always a gentleman and ever courteous to all. Until, you’re sitting across the table from him as he tells you how he disappeared for two months, not because of the supposed mission he was on.
Nope, his ex-girlfriend who he hates, needed help moving and he spent the last two months reigniting the fire only to watch it burn out and reaffirm why they are apart. Here is where he elects to sit across from me stuffing his face with dinner that I made while he tells me that she has such an amazing body that he would be in bed with her right now if she wasn’t such a witch.
And I’m supposed to be what Clarke? Grateful you aren’t rolling in bed with her while I do the dishes? I’m supposed to feel great because you feel comfortable enough with me to have this conversation like we’re friends. And then you have the nerve to tell me that you need a date to your friend’s wedding THIS weekend because your plans with her fell through.
I swear I could choke you. I want to rip you head off and spit on you. And I sat there stunned. Like ‘Did he really just say that?’
I gave up and left. Mostly because I wasn’t sure which way was the best way to hurt you. I didn’t want to see you again after that and you pestered me endlessly. I like a fool letting you back in only to be told that you met someone while on another two week vacation that reminded you of your mother so now you’re getting married to a human and once she dies of old age in seventy years or so you’ll call me.
I don’t think I was thinking clearly when I let Primus “volunteer” me for this experiment. I was so hung over from a broken heart I would have done anything to distract me from that kind of pain. And weekly injected shots of anti-venom did the trick.
Three months later, I have wings and silver fangs like a Silver Banshee. But, I don’t have the same sonic effects where I can crush craniums or anything. When I scream, the sound waves pierce a specific part of the brain that controls affection.
One scream can cause extreme hatred, another tone infatuation, another intense sorrow, etc. So, I screamed at Clarke the other day. He’s left his wife and camped out on my doorstep. And I won’t have him. I tried screaming at every other octave but he just wound up confused. So, I left the New Hampshire estate and came to the Sanctum of California.
Now, there’s this guy that I think is amazing and he’s either just really nice and courteous, but flirts marginally and is shy or… I have no idea. I feel like giving up. I don’t want to cheat and scream at him in just the right tone that he winds up like Clarke. I want his honest affections or nothing will count. But, I have silver teeth and wings now. Clarke writes me a love letter almost every day and I send them all back saying to go back to his wife and leave me alone.
I didn’t even mean to make him fall in love with me. I wanted him to NOT call me at the end of his human wife’s life and tried to make him hate me. This backfired profoundly. Unfortunately he found out where I was and I ran for it. Now, I’m sitting in Elle’s living room wondering why she’s not home and where in her house she kept rotten eggs. The stench of sulfur is stuck somewhere in the back of the house near her bedroom. I haven’t seen any mirror windows to hell here so it’s got to be eggs. Right?
* * *
Must keep running. Must keep running. The people in hell are no joke. They completely turned on us and went from a sobbing grateful mess to a B rated zombie movie like Amelia said. Good thing Raphael is close. Our hands glowed brighter and brighter as we burst through the door of a dilapidated brick building with rotting walls. The people in the hallways seemed blind yet searching carefully for something to consume. They moan woefully and pieces of their victims lay strewn about the floor. Running through sticky slick puddles of blood and still trailing behind Amelia and Caleb, they are gaining on us.
We ran up the stairs and at every corner, more poured in through a hallway, or a door we didn’t see was there, bottle nosing us into the back corner of the building that seemed to get darker and darker.
I could hear them moaning behind us. The only light was the blue glow that pulsated from our hands. Caleb was panting hard, out of fear. Amelia started humming. The song sounded familiar somehow.
The moaning seemed to grow closer then recede like an ocean wave. I think hell’s inhabitants are afraid of the glowing light from our hands so they get close then back off. Caleb and Amelia slowed down ahead of me long enough for me to grab Caleb’s hand. First he jumped thinking a hungry damned soul had gotten him. Then he quickly clenched my fingers as if to say his final goodbye.
“Well, it did not take as long as I thought it would for you to reach me. I see you brought a familiar face.” I heard Raphael’s accented voice.
“Can I keep him?” I asked timidly.
“Is he a puppy Elle?” he replied playfully.”He can be restored, but not squander this gift or he will wind up back here. He will be human and wake up with no memory of anything after you bit him. He will not know who you are. He will not remember the centuries that have passed. He will be alone in this new age and a world that changed within a blink of an eye. Can you stand to part with him?” Raphael’s voice carried as though it were all around us.
“I owe him. I owe him a life restored even if it is without me.” I answered with tears welling in my eyes. But, I spoke honestly.
A pool of blue light seemed to seep from the ceiling in the farthest corner from us. A fiery purple tornado, small, but bright, touched down in front of us and held every eye captive… literally. The cannibalistic people were petrified in his light and growled softly underneath their breaths.
Raphael seemed to walk out of the tornado flames as though he was stepping through a door and came towards us.
“And that is why I blessed you with wisdom.” he said.
We joined hands in a circle and in a bright flash of light and wisp of fog I was standing alone in my living room. Marty was asleep on my sofa.
But, she looked as though she had somehow morphed into a wannabe Silver Banshee.
How do I get back to Ryan?
(Photo courtesy of:edisonandlaroo.wordpress.com)
Music for this episode – Bulletproof – La Roux – Classical Cover by Aston