Til Death (Immortal Memories) (10 page)

“What have you done to her?” Mia yells when she finishes screaming. Or maybe she never stopped screaming, it just mutates from an inarticulate howl into words flung in our direction. I’m off the couch and Thomas rushes to close the door, to keep her voice locked inside the apartment with us. His rapid movement combined with the door seemingly closing by itself does nothing to calm my friend.

“There’s blood all over you!” She’s trembling. Her entire body quaking with barely contained fear. Her face is all white, especially around her lips, and there’s just the tiniest bead of sweat starting to show at her hairline. Her heartbeat is elevated and I realize that I can actually hear her blood rushing through her veins. I can see the fear rolling off her in great sickly green waves. The second part of the turning is complete and instead of celebrating, of enjoying the way it feels to experience so much more, of spending the evening tucked into Thomas’s arms content in the knowledge that he and I are closer than we ever were, I get to deal with my friend freaking out in my foyer.

“Mia, I’m fine.” I want to sneer at the word. Now that I’ve realized how often I say it, it’s almost repellant to me. How many times have I said that to her and not really meant it? And now that I actually mean it, there’s no reason for her to believe me.

“You always say that,” she echoes my thoughts. “And I always take you at your word, but look at you! You are NOT fine.” She turns to Thomas. “You’ve ruined her. Whatever you’re doing, you’re in the process of destroying her, don’t you see that? Look at her? Is this what you want? Her all covered in blood? Claiming she’s ok when she’s not? Hiding from her friends? Hiding from just...
life?”

Thomas’s face crumbles. His lips part. He takes one look at me and his eyes close. When they open, there’s a flash of sadness, of regret and then … there’s distance. Like he’s removed himself from me. “I’m sorry,” is all he says and his voice is hollow and panic thrums in my chest. I try to read the expression on his porcelain face, but there’s nothing to read. He’s gone.

“Don’t you dare…” I’m walking towards him. I’ll take his face in my hands and I’ll look in his eyes and I’ll do all the dramatic things I wanted to do just a few minutes ago in order to prove how much I love him. “Don’t you dare disappear on me.”

“Listen to yourself!” Mia’s screeching and I hate that I’m sharing this moment with her, that it’s happening because of her. Hate that she’s even here. And if I’m not careful, I’ll end up hating her, too. “It’s like you've gone crazy!”

“Get out.” I say the words through clenched teeth, just as I’d done the night she sat on my couch and tried to talk me into going down to the Citadel. But this time it’s Thomas who responds.

“I’ll leave.” He doesn’t move, but somehow it feels like he’s already gone.

Tears spring into my eyes and I wipe them angrily away, smearing blood across my cheeks and forehead. “No.” I didn’t know so much emotion could be forced into a single syllable.

“She said it. I’m destroying you.” And my heart breaks because I know what he’s going to say and I don’t know how I’m going to talk him out of it. “I couldn’t bear to destroy you before I knew you, there’s no way I could live with myself now that I know your beauty extends to the very limits of your soul.”

And then he’s gone.

I don’t think he’s ever moved so fast and the only reason I see it at all is because it’s his blood coursing through my body right now. All the better to see you with, my dear. And it’s mine coursing through his. We’re part of each other and his absence cuts me to the quick.

I can’t breathe. My chest is constricting and my throat is closing and I fall to my knees.

Mia’s still staring at the space that Thomas used to occupy, her brain working too slowly to process the fact that he’s no longer in the apartment. “Dear God,” she murmurs once she realizes we’re alone.

Meanwhile, I’m making a sound I don’t know how to explain. My mouth is open and tears are flowing through my closed eyes, and it’s as if my grief is forcing its way out of my body through my voice. It’s a low moaning sound, long and uninterrupted. And when I run out of breath, I take a hitching breath in, only to start into the wail yet again.

Mia rushes towards me and I can’t bear the thought of her touching me. I can smell her sweet perfume mingling with a bit of Elijah’s cologne and all the smells that mean Mia and it just spins rage into my heart. With my arm stretched out in front of me, I scramble away from her.

“Don’t touch me!”

Her face crumbles in a mockery of Thomas’s. The hurt I’ve caused her similar to what I saw in his eyes - loss, regret, sadness - yet it means so much less to me to see it on her face.

“Rachel, please let me help you.”

I clamber to my feet and the rage spins itself into a great big ball of words and I launch them at her. “You know what? I’m not fine! And you know why? Because of you! I was finally happy! I was finally safe! I finally, for the first time in my whole life, trusted someone enough to show him all of me and you just ruined it all! You burst in here and think you see a monster when he’s the only creature I trust in the world.” My entire body is straining as I hurl my words at Mia. “I’m not ok! Is that what you’ve been waiting to hear? Well, there you go. I’m not ok and it’s your fault. Now get the hell out of my house.”

I turn my back on her and I hear tiny hitching gasps. Mia’s crying. Trying to gather herself. To catch her breath. I don’t know what I’ll do if she tries to speak. Or tries to touch me. I just want her gone. Gone so maybe Thomas will come back.

But there was so much distance in his eyes when he looked at me. I don’t think he ever will come back.

I’m sobbing now. Hands on my face, slumping against a wall. I hear Mia leave, the door clicking shut behind her. As I slide down the wall and tuck my knees up tight to my chest, I hear her running across the courtyard, her hiccupping breaths. I hear her door slam shut.

All the better to hear you with, my dear.

My tears are like a thunderstorm, ravaging my heart with wave after wave of grief. I don’t know how long I sit like that, crouched on the floor against the wall, the tempest of rage and sadness waging war against the love and hope of a happily ever after I’d finally committed myself to just that very night.

Love is for people stronger than me. Love is for people who don’t get hurt as easily as I do. I was a fool to ever believe otherwise. To believe that Thomas would stay with me. That he’d never hurt me. That he’d want me in the same way I’d want him and that our love would be enough to withstand anything. That we’d be able to sustain forever.

We’d not even been able to sustain one obstacle. One night.

Maybe I’m truly built to be alone. Whatever it is in me that so easily crumbles when I let people get close to me is too strong to overcome. I’m a fool to have thought I
should
overcome it. I was right all along. Keep me to myself. My heart for me and me alone and that way, no one can ever truly hurt me.

I am the master of my fate, for better and for worse. Bringing anyone else into the picture had been a mistake. What was it I’d always told myself? Sink or swim but it’ll all be of my own accord. What I really meant was, I want to do this myself because I’m too fragile to trust anyone else to treat me the way I need to be treated. I’d put up this front of being strong, not because I was sold on the strong, independent woman thing I was trying to sell the rest of the world, but because being strong meant being capable of being alone and being alone meant I’d never have to feel like this.

A small voice reminded me that I’d also gotten to experience true happiness, the kind of happiness that comes with being in love and trusting someone with your heart, because I’d let someone in. Let Thomas see me. Care for me. Trusted him with the most fragile part of myself.

I crushed that voice with a single thought. Nothing is worth feeling the way I do now. Trying to console myself with that bullshit line, it’s better to have loved than lost than never to have loved at all, is just that. Bullshit. Because this feeling right here, right now, there’s nothing worth this feeling.

After a while, my head just kind of goes numb. My thoughts stop spinning and I watch the sun stretch out across my living room floor, edging closer and closer to the pink spot I never could fully get out of the carpet. As the spear of sunlight continues to grow and then weakens, fades, and recedes back towards the window, I consider the long years stretching ahead of me. Years of keeping myself safe from others. Years of struggling to put one foot in front of the other. Years of fanciful ideas like owning my own bakery, ideas born of my need to stay separate from everyone, failing and leaving me adrift in the sea of my life. Rudderless. Just floating along towards my eventual death. Watching my youth and beauty fade. Waking more and more exhausted each day as age makes its tyrant’s march across my life, leaving its marks on me.

It all just seems so pointless.

Night falls and at some point, I’ve moved from my post on the floor against the wall. I find myself sitting on my bottom step, staring at the door, practically willing Thomas to arrive even though I know he’s not going to. Mia said the magic words.

You’re destroying her.

I know Thomas loves me. I know it like I know my name, like I know my favorite color. It’s true in the way you just know the sky is blue when the sun is shining. And it’s because he loves me that I’ll never see him again.

You’re destroying her.

It’s because he loves me that hearing those words from Mia’s mouth is enough to make sure that he’ll never step foot in my life again. And all my hopes and dreams are broken, dashed against the rocks. Still, I remain vigilant. Keep my post on the bottom stair, watching the door. At some point, I wake. I’d fallen asleep leaning against the wall, legs tucked up onto the stair, curled into a tight ball. My body is cramped and uncomfortable but that almost seems better. I don’t think I could stand feeling anything but miserable to my core.

Mia never shows. The last time I’d locked myself into my apartment, after that awful night in the warehouse district, she’d shown up every day, several times a day, trying to get me to let her in. But it seems even she’s decided to leave me. I am utterly, completely alone, just like I’d always secretly wanted, and it’s not at all what I thought it’d be.

How much time has passed, I don’t know, but I finally make my way into the bathroom and gasp at the stranger in the mirror. Blood dried and flaking on my cheek, mouth, and chin. Hair matted and dull. Face smeared and puffy from crying. But those are all physical changes that will be fixed with a shower and some make up. The real change, the terrifying change is in my eyes. They’re a stranger’s eyes, filled with pain and grief and some kind of awful resignation.

I shower, wondering if I’ll feel better once I’m clean, somehow certain that I won’t. And I’m right. I’m hollow and I’m spent. I briefly consider make up, but what’s the point? That’s really the thing, isn’t it? There’s just no point.

I wander downstairs and peer out the window but there’s snow on the ground and it reminds me of Thomas. His hair. His skin. The touch of his skin. He’s stone and snow and I miss him like hell. I catch a glimpse of the Babylonian. He just stares back at me, arches an eyebrow. I close the blinds on him and don’t look outside again.

I’ll be fine. I consider murmuring the words out loud. But I know even I won’t believe it this time. I’m not fine. I don’t think I ever will be again.

Time passes in this strange blur of days and nights and the inside of my apartment is confining and safe and familiar. It’s a prison of my own design. A place to keep me locked away from anyone who could hurt me. I carry wounds on my heart too big to allow anyone inside. I’m not one who deals well with stagnation. But that’s exactly what I’m forcing myself to do. Stagnate. I eat very little, rationing out the remaining packets of Ramen as if the world had ended.

Which, for all intents and purposes, it has.

I can afford to lock myself away like this because Thomas has paid everything up front. But that’s going to come to an end soon enough. I’m going to have to insert myself back into the human race, at least enough to get a job and try and make enough money to simply continue to exist. That thought is … what’s the word for it? There’s resignation. There’s frustration. There’s sadness. It’s dark and it’s heavy and I’m not sure that I can manage it for the rest of my days. Whatever the word is, whatever the right name for all those emotions wrapped up into a single thought might be, I don’t like it. But I don’t really have a choice. One foot in front of the other until I’m old and worn and tired. That’s all there is left for me.

I fish out the papers - my grand budget and plan - I’d started working on all those weeks ago, a lifetime ago, really. It was a different Rachel who sat down to try and scribble out all the answers to the what-nows that surrounded her. This time, it doesn’t matter how much I scribble. I won’t find an answer.

One day, I find myself in the kitchen, baking. Numb from the inside out, moving on autopilot, filling my counters with row after row of cupcakes. Creating as many different shades of frosting as I can imagine. I disappear into myself as I paint with the icing, swirling the colors into shapes both concrete and abstract until I settle on rose petals. I make dozens of the things, each of them draped in rose petals crafted from frosting and my heart aches as I step out of the kitchen and study my handiwork.

I remember a different day that rose petals covered my kitchen, actual rose petals strewn across the countertops and the floor. There’d been food, nourishing food, not Ramen, and a folded notecard with a fingerprint of blood.

I swallow. Staring at my cupcakes, a tiny part of me wants to destroy them, to throw them around the kitchen in a rage, to dig my fingers into the soft confections and claw away the memory. But most of me is too numb to care. I turn my back on the kitchen and don’t look back. I can’t face a lifetime of this. What am I going to do?

What now, Rachel? What now?

Nothing. There’s no way to answer that question that will make me feel better. I’m moving to my apartment door, and my fingers are curling around the doorknob. I’m squinting into the bright sunlight as it pierces the crack I’ve created by opening the door.

“Babylonian.”

I whisper, but I know he can hear me. I know he’s still standing guard, protecting me, just liked he’d been ordered to. The tiny part of me that still feels wants more of the sun on her skin. I widen the crack in the door and catch a glimpse of Mia, locking her own door. She sees me and freezes. Our eyes lock across the courtyard. She takes a deep breath and drops her gaze, turning her back on me and walking away.

Your wish is my command, says the universe. You wanted to be alone, and here you go. You’re alone. And the genie can’t go back into the bottle.

What now, Rachel? What now?

The Babylonian appears on my doorstep, blocking the thin stripe of light. I widen the door and gesture for him to enter. He regards me with his dark eyes, royalty sizing up a peasant. I close the door behind him and he walks through the apartment, looking into the kitchen with some measure of curiosity, and takes a seat at the dinner table near the window.

Without a word, he reaches up and twists the blinds open and sunlight spears me where I stand. I’m blinded. I’ve kept the apartment dark. Locked up. I blink rapidly and shade my eyes as I take the seat beside the Babylonian.

“Sunlight is a gift, Rachel. You shouldn’t shut it out.”

“I don’t like the way it feels.” The stranger I saw in my eyes has taken root in my voice as well.

“Why?”

“Because it’s warm. Because it’s full, full of life and promises. It’s all the things I’m not.”

“Why? You’re young and alive. I’d say it’s all the things you are.”

“It’s all the things I used to be and will never be again. I’m happier in the dark now.”

The Babylonian regards me for a long moment. His eyes rove my face, my eyes, my expression. Has he seen the stranger? Has he heard her? Can he sense the change in me? “What is it you want?” he asks and I can hear that he already knows.

“I want you to kill me.”

“Becoming a vampire won’t bring Thomas back to you. He’ll only regret not having done it himself.” He’s being purposefully obtuse. I can see it. He means to make me say it out loud. Probably to test my resolve.

That’s a test I can pass.

“No. You know what I mean. I don’t want to live anymore. In any capacity. I want you to kill me.”

“Why?”

“There’s nothing left for me.”

“You’re being awfully dramatic. You’re a girl, spurned by her first love. You’ll heal. You’ll move on.”

“This has nothing to do with love and everything to do with hope. I don’t want to live the life that stretches out ahead of me. It’s all …” I wave my hands. “Pointless. Get up, go to work, come home. Day after day. No end in sight. What’s the point?”

“Do you realize how many people have asked that same question? How many people have to muster up the strength to live despite all of that? All of them. It’s part and parcel with the human condition. All it takes is a little strength.”

“I’m not strong.”

“Then surround yourself with your friends and they’ll help you grow strong.”

“No. Even before this, I didn’t let people in. I didn’t let them know me. I was barely holding on as it was. After?” I just shake my head and let him see how empty I feel.

“You’re under protection from the Council. I can’t just kill you without their permission.”

Well that’s funny. The choice to take my own life is outside of my control. I simply nod and he leaves and I’m left to stare absently around my apartment. If these are the last hours of my life, do I want to spend them here? The tiny part that craves sunlight and movement speaks up and I give into her. Sympathy for the shred of Rachel that still survives in what I’ve become.

I bundle up. Pull a woolen hat over my tousled hair. Wrap a scarf around my neck. Pull on a coat. I don’t lock the door behind me. I just walk. The sunlight feels good on the tiny bit of my face that’s exposed and I’m tempted to pull my scarf up higher. I don’t want to feel good.

After a while, I realize that I’m following the paths I’d walked with Thomas, visiting all of the places that I’ve been with him. I’m saying goodbye. All I have left of him are the places we’ve been together, the memories of how I felt while we were there. There’s a parade of images that float through my mind. The first time we touched. The city lights glinting in his hair. The way my hand looks in his.

And then an image comes in and the thought that follows it stops me in my tracks. I see the Council table, all the chairs empty except one. One that should have been occupied by Thomas if he hadn’t been standing next to me. And the Babylonian is going to the Council to ask permission to grant me death. Thomas is part of that Council.

What will that do to him? A being who’s so intent on not destroying me that he’ll remove himself from my life in order to save me. How selfish of me! Begging for death when my death will only bring him centuries of pain. He and I are so much the same, so busy building walls around our hearts so that no one can get in and hurt us. And he let me in just like I let him in and what kind of pain am I leaving him with if I make him vote on whether or not I get to die? Get to finish my years suffering and alone, but alive and therefore whole, or to end it all now and bow out, leaving him to mourn me for centuries stacked upon centuries?

And in that moment, I realize I don’t want to die. Not if it’ll cause Thomas pain. I will live out my life and put one foot in front of the other, forcing a smile onto my face until I learn to be happy again if that’s what Thomas needs. How long ago did the Babylonian leave? Would he go straight to the Council? I don’t know how the whole thing works, but I doubt they’re all just constantly gathered at Club Diablo, waiting for someone to call on the Council. They’re sure to have lives, places to be. Surely, the Babylonian had to contact someone who had to contact the rest. Even if they chose to meet immediately, I might still have time to find them while they gather themselves together.

Time for what, though? What can I do? What is it I
want
to do? I’m still not really sure, just that I have to stop the Babylonian from presenting his case to the Council. I take off into a run, ignoring the stares and exclamations of surprise and anger from people I bump into and swerve around.

All I know to do is go to Club Diablo and hope to find them. Hope to get a chance to … do what exactly? I’m not sure. But I’ve got to do something. There’s a million reasons this could go badly. I could arrive too late, with the words already out of the Babylonian’s mouth. My request spearing Thomas in the heart with a pain I can never take away. They might not meet at Club Diablo. They could be anywhere else in the world.

And there are men in the warehouse district. Men who like to hurt women. Men who like to try and take what isn’t theirs to take. To smear their grimy hands on skin they don’t have the right to touch.

But none of that matters because all I know is that I have the smallest chance to save Thomas from having to make an impossible choice. To save him from pain and heartache. And I’d be a fool not to act, no matter how unshaped and malformed and full of holes my plan.

As I run, I realize something. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to push people away. I’ll never love anyone like I love Thomas. But I can try to learn to trust people. Mia... Max… I want to learn to trust them. Because if you let the right people into your heart, they’ll help you grow and thrive. There’ll be laughter and inside jokes and warm embraces and soft places to put your head when things go wrong.

And, just like I’m racing to reach Thomas, to save him from  a hurt I didn’t mean to deliver, I’ll have people to race to my rescue.

I think of Mia banging on my door, begging to be let in so she could help me. Peering through her window to make sure I’m safe. The sweet way she nuzzles her forehead into my shoulder. She’s been there this whole time and I’ve done nothing but push her away, too afraid of being hurt to realize that I’m actually being hurtful.

I have so much to apologize for.

I’ve managed to run only a few blocks and my lungs are about to explode. I stop and put my hands on my thighs, working on catching my breath by blowing air out of my mouth. The cold air feels like it’s formed ice crystals in my chest and my nose is running. I can’t run another step and my wallet is empty. I can’t flag down a cab. Club Diablo might as well be halfway across the world.

I’ve lost. There’s no way I’ll make it in time. And that’s assuming I was even headed to the right place. I sniff and wipe a gloved hand under my nose. What now, Rachel? What now? I refuse to give up hope.

“Rachel!”

The world freezes in the time it takes me to hear my name called out clear and cold across the snow-filled streets. The wind whips my hair across my face and I see mountains and the snow-lashed trees and hear a rumbling melody, haunting and sweet, a melody forgotten by the world and kept by one man.

I turn and the sun blinds me, reflecting off the snow, too much for my eyes to handle. I blink and for an awful moment, there’s nothing. Did I imagine it? Thomas racing up to wrap me in his arms? Did I wish him into existence with the intensity of my need for him? My heart balances on a razor’s edge.

The crowds part and the clouds cover the sun and there he is. Standing tall and proud, so still. Watching me find him. Pedestrian’s surge around us, but I’m propelled towards him and like water surging around rocks, people move out of my way. Their paths aren’t perfect, their destinations mutable, deviations from their course expected. But me? I have only one place to be and one way to get there. I walk towards Thomas, parting the crowd with my purpose, and wrap myself up in his arms.