Vampires with disastrous private lives…
(Belle’s 1st kill.)
He thinks I’m coming around because I care less and less and have been more or less agreeable or at least less contentious. What he doesn’t realize is that me not caring is a bad thing. If I didn’t care then it wouldn’t hurt and I wouldn’t feel so badly that all I had was contentious and bad behavior, hurtful comments, and rolling my eyes when he’d try and smooth things over. The less I care, the less all of this means to me… including him.
I hear this voice in my head saying that I don’t need him anymore. It’s like there’s another woman just behind my eyes always watching. I know in my head that I love him and that I care but I don’t feel it in my heart. There’s no emotion. So I laugh at his jokes, have meaningless conversations about how nice trips to the beach would be, and sit in his arms sort of tolerating being there so that I won’t have to hear him complain that he’s trying and why can’t I just let it go and accept our new life together.
Why can’t I just accept that he’s a vampire gigolo that has seven other women on the line at any given time? Well, maybe not seven. I’m just being vicious. But, really. I’m supposed to just pretend that when he’s at home with me our whole life is just normal and married and happy? Not that when he’s not at home he’s snuggled up with some other woman trying to convince her of his love?
Any woman in her right mind would see him and question his sincerity. He’s too smooth, too good to be true, too loving, trying too hard. Too perfect. That’s right ladies, there’s a reason for that gut feeling. I hope that the one he’s with now has sense enough to feel it. But, I have a feeling that the eye mesmerize thing that he did with me, which no longer works by the way, was a vampire trick to make humans compliant.
I resent that I loved him with everything I had. I should have held back because he was always rejecting me in little ways. I resent myself for not acknowledging the red flags that I knew were there and letting myself wind up like this. I could have helped myself out. I know I could have. I’m angry, but now only at myself not at him. So why punish him? That voice in my head says I should just give in to the anger and not worry about what happens when that part of me takes over. It’s like another person is coaxing me into trusting them when everything in me screams not to. Like a child taking candy from a stranger and it was poison instead. But, she’s so convincing.
I need a break she says. I need to heal in a healing slumber and she will take care of things while I rest. I will wake up a whole new me. Telling me all day, in my dreams, whispering in my ear. I see myself when I’m asleep. She looks like me, just with weird eyes and red hair. But, since I don’t have a reflection anymore I can’t be sure that I really don’t look like that sometimes. She’s like a snake hissing in my ear all of the time.
“Oh shut up already.” I grumbled while watching a game show on television. No one was even talking… out loud anyways.
Troy and Elle just looked at me. I know, talking to myself again aren’t I? They’ve been very sympathetic. But, I have this sinking feeling that they know more. But, the angel didn’t say hallucinations or voices was part of being flatlined and I’m afraid to ask because I don’t want them to think that I’m crazy.
But, I’m kind of scared. I know this doesn’t feel right and definitely isn’t normal. Sometimes I wake up and I’m not where I went to sleep at. I give in sometimes in my dreams and then I wake up outside, or on the floor in the kitchen. And they very apologetically take care of me and act like it’s all going to be ok. But, we’re sitting around carrying on like this is our normal life together and no one is saying anything… except Grenhelda… who just won’t shut up until she has her way.
When I woke up the next morning I was sitting at the kitchen table and covered in blood. It was all over me. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom, convinced someone had tried to slit my throat, cursing Troy for being nice to me only to try and kill me later. I hopped in the shower and as the hot water mixed with the blood washing off of me I felt the strangest sensation.
My mouth watered as though Thanksgiving dinner was cooking in the bathroom with me and the best food I had ever eaten came to mind as I stood under the hot water. Until I realized that what I was smelling wasn’t turkey and stuffing and biscuits. Actually, turkey sounded awful right then. It was the blood. The blood smelled so amazing that I stooped down and cupped the bloody water in my hands then started drinking it until I realized what I was doing.
It hit me all at once and I cried, no tears, but the same pain. I think I killed someone. I think I drank… I think I did. And I don’t remember a thing. It wasn’t Troy trying to slit my throat. He did this to me, but not like that. He turned me into this. He did kill me. I would not do this!
I wanted to destroy any evidence to try and make myself seem me again. I showered and scrubbed and soaked and cried for an hour.
They must have seen the mess in the kitchen. If not, then the blood stained foot prints that led to the bathroom. Elle found me crouched on the bathroom floor in a towel. Troy walked in a few moments later and scooped me into his arms.
I hadn’t been with anyone since Troy. And I don’t know why being with him right then managed to make me feel better because I numbly loathe him. But, at the same time, I managed not to see Troy the man. I saw my best friend lying there next to me, holding me, and trying desperately to comfort me. The best friend I had been missing and aching to see and hold for even ten minutes because I knew I’d be alright if I could only get to him. That’s who I saw when I looked in his eyes. So, I slept… for the first time in months… peacefully.