The Light of the World (The Light Series Book 1)

by Tara Brown

  I gasp. “No. Oh my God. It must have been right after we slept together. That’s horrid.”

  She grins. “If you even make a joke about making him feel better, I will throw up. Or slap you.”

  I laugh.

  It's hollow.

  Like my heart.

  The only time I feel better is after sex. It's not even because of orgasms either. The only ones I have are when I'm alone, which is not something I want to discuss.

  At all.

  I feel good after sex, but it's more like when you eat a lot and feel satisfied, but then the remorse hits. Then you have to unbutton your pants and everything feels uncomfortable. I feel good at first and then the discomfort and self-hatred starts.

  Daily, my goal is to make it through the day without sex. I've slipped up four times in two months—at least half of the number of times Wyatt's “dated.” With him, it's a new freshman every week. I can't help but wonder if he slaps them around or pretends he can't see them or acts like a crazed, stalker nut? I can't help but wonder if they feel like they will die without him, after he's discarded them.

  Like I do.

  Mona hates him, and Michelle's worse. They both swear I'm not allowed to have contact with him or be alone with him. Ever.

  It doesn’t matter.

  He doesn’t try to be alone with me anyway. He doesn’t make eye contact with me except to glare at me. Like I hit him. Like I acted crazed.

  I have vowed I will let myself get past him. Willow would hate him and kill me if she knew. Two months of “I'm fine” has been taxing, and she doesn’t buy it anymore.

  The only vow I kept in losing my virginity was where. I vowed not to do it in a frat house bed and I kept that one. I lost it in the bed of a local guy. I had meaningless sex and walked away unscathed. I like to pretend it's unscathed, but I hurt afterward. I hurt in my soul. Like I've traded a piece of it to feel the full feeling.

  My phone vibrates.

  I ignore it.

  I almost always ignore it.

  I can't face Willow. Not after everything I've done. I don’t know how to face either of us. Instead, I ignore us both and seek companionship in shallow places, where I don’t have to face them either.

  Mona picks my phone up and looks irritated.

  I wince. “I can't. She's been super needy lately. She wants me to come home for Thanksgiving, but I'm not sure I can. I've been eating meat and having sex. She'll smell it on me.”

  Michelle laughs. She knows it's true. I look back at the TV and try to get lost in the movie. Scream 3 isn't my favorite movie. I prefer the first one.

  “So, you still planning on being a vampire tomorrow night?” she asks.

  I nod once.

  She sticks her lip out. “Please be Witches of Eastwick with us.”

  I laugh. “No. I don’t want to be noticeable.” They know what I mean. I have enough trouble as it is.

  Michelle scowls at me. “Fine, be that way. You could take one for the team, you know?”

  I look at Mona's pout and shake my head. “Last time I took one for the team, some creep read me poetry in the corner while you jerks danced and had fun. No. There will be a million vampires. I want to blend in.”

  We fall asleep in a bundle of legs, arms, and fleece.

  My dream is disturbing, as always.

  I'm walking in a maze made of corn. Just like the one we just went to in Quebec last week with some random guy Mona likes. I had to lie to Willow and say I was spending the weekend in a study group in my common room. She's been nuts about me staying in my dorm. Anyway, I'm in a corn maze but I can't find anyone. Smoke is rising from the ground. I try calling for them. No one answers, but when I turn a corner, I bump into him. He steps back and bows his head slightly. “Forgive me.” He looks ashamed.

  I try to fight the tears but I can't. I put a hand out. I'm scared of him. He brings his hand back and slaps me hard. My cheek burns, and he does it again. I'm trembling and crying out his name. When I look up at him through the swinging arm, I see the dead look on his face. His eyes are dead. He whispers, “I knew you were already dead, Rayne.”

  I wake as always. I open my eyes and look around calmly. No one is there. A note sits on my pillow with a red wig and a pair of glasses. Susan Sarandon's character.

  I sigh. I am scared of Wyatt, and yet attracted. Somehow, through the slap and the fingers that dug into my skin, I am attracted to him. It makes me ill.

  My attraction to him bothers me.

  The dream bothers me.

  It'll bother me all night.

  It'll be worse when I see him at the bar with some chick.

  Not that I can really throw that name around anymore. They're my people now.

  My phone is dead again. Willow has been blowing it up. I plug it in and make a mental note to call when I get a chance. I curl back into a ball and pray for good dreams. Not that they ever come.

  I sleep all day again. Saturday has quickly become a sleeping day for me. I seem to need it. I am exhausted all the time.

  I wake up to a whisper and look around. The room is empty, but I can see perfectly. The eye thing is worse than ever. I pick up my phone and dial home.

  She answers on the first ring. “Are you okay? Are you in your room? Honey, you need to call more often. I need to see you. There is something I need to talk to you about.” She sounds tired.

  I sigh. “I know. Sorry. I'm just busy and stuff. School is hard.”

  She sighs back. “You're eating meat, aren’t you? I can hear it in your voice. You're tired. Are you having sex too?”

  I cough. “Willow, jeeze.”

  “Don’t try lying to me. Just tell me what's been going on. I can hear it in your voice. Your chi is down. It's bogged. Is it still that boy you liked? That Wicker or Whilom or whatever? Did you have sex with him?”

  I burst into tears. “Wyatt. I love him still, and I don’t know why. Something is wrong with me. I can't make it stop. He doesn’t talk to me.” I heave slightly. “I can't get him out of my head. He was cruel to me, and I can't get over him. He's over me, and I'm a feeble weak loser.”

  “Nene. You're not a loser. You just love more than regular people. Baby girl, you need to come home. Want me to come get you now? Did you have sex?” she asks.

  I shout, “NO GOD! I NEVER HAD SEX! Er—with him.”

  “Okay, okay. Calm your energy, Nene. Just take a breath. How about next weekend? You want to come home next weekend?” She sounds concerned.

  “Okay. Fine. Can we drop the sex thing though?” I beg.

  I can hear her smile. “Yes. Yes, we can. I just worry so much. I hate that this boy has hurt you. I love you.”

  I sniffle. “I love you too.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  I cry softly. “I know. Me too. I didn’t mean to yell. I'm just, I don’t know.”

  “I'll come get you next Friday afternoon, okay?” I can hear her smile in her voice.

  “Yup.”

  “Is that all?” she asks warily, the smile is gone.

  “No, I ate meat.”

  She sighs again. “I knew it. How much?”

  I cringe. It's better than telling her about the sex, so I tell the truth. “Every day.”

  “Rayne Willow Whynde, what are you thinking? You need to stop that and restart the meditation and the poses. Don’t forget the sixth one. I can tell you're not doing it enough.” Or at all.

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Promise?” she asks.

  “Promise.”

  She smiles again. “I love you, Nene.”

  “Love you too, Mommy.” I hang up the phone and feel a little better. I'm still exhausted all the time, and sometimes the dead whisper to me for no reason and my eyes glow, but I feel better. I have confessed half of the crap I've been doing. Next week, I'll tell her about the sex. I vow no more sex. At least until I tell her.

  I pull on the vampire costume and paint my lips black. I decide on a Gothic vampire. My dark hair suits it.
I don’t even realize I'm doing my makeup in the dark until Mona and Michelle come in, and the light from the hallway filters in. “You in here?”

  I put the makeup down. “Yup. Just woke up.”

  When they flick on the lights, they both frown.

  Mona looks at my makeup. “You're doing stuff in the dark again?”

  I nod and stammer, “Y-yeah. Uhm, trying to get in the Gothic mood.”

  They don’t look like they buy it.

  Neither does the Asian girl I don’t know who is with them. Mona grabs the red wig and the glasses and passes them to the Asian girl. She pulls them on. I turn back to the mirror and finish my makeup. Michelle is Michelle Pfeiffer and Mona is Cher. The three of them look awesome and sexy.

  Michelle inspects me. “You look creepy.” Mona nods.

  I smile at Mona and flash my huge fangs. They're the real-looking kind that fit snugly onto your teeth. I used plaster to mold them.

  Michelle looks at me. “All that fabric and you'll still be the most popular girl at the bar.”

  It's true. I'm cursed. I believe it. Ever since that stupid waitress flashed her red eyes at me and the weird dreams have gotten worse, I've been like a dude magnet. A gay guy Michelle knows hit on me last week. I can't walk into the bar without guys offering me drinks or dances or whole tables.

  I look at myself and nod. I'm wearing long black pants with a black tank top and a cape. I don’t have bare skin except my face, which is covered in white makeup, bloodstains, and masses of black eyeliner. I look scary and creepy, and I will still be turning them away.

  We leave the room and walk to the Asian girl in the Susan Sarandon costume's car. She drives us to the bar. I am anxious and excited to party. I like partying now. I leave a club feeling good for days. The beat of the music and the energy makes me high. I don’t even really have to drink anymore. One or two but that’s it. Otherwise I get trashed and sleep with someone. Then Mona calls me a slut and Michelle tells me I should start charging so we can afford dinner out more often.

  The line is long but the bouncer is one of my adoring fans. I walk up and flash a toothy grin.

  He pauses and then smiles. “Hey, Rayne. How's it going?”

  I nod. “Good. Is it busy in there?”

  He smiles seductively at me. “Very. Be careful.”

  I smile sweetly. “Always.” He lets us in and as usual the line bitches and complains, but one look from the huge lug is all it ever takes to quiet them down.

  We climb the stairs and look at the crowd. It moves like an ocean. I feel better instantly. My stomachache is gone and my smile feels real. It only ever lasts until I see him. I don’t look into the crowd. I walk out onto the dance floor and start moving with the music. Immediately, a guy comes over. “Want a drink?”

  I look at Mona and Michelle. They nod.

  “Four beers.” I lean in and whisper in his ear. I can smell his cologne. He smells good. I lick his neck. He pulls back and flashes me a grin. When he leaves for the beers, I catch a glimpse of Wyatt. He sees me and turns away. He looks angry. He always looks angry when he sees me. I close my eyes and let the music take me.

  “Can I get you a drink?” I look up at a cute boy in a Spiderman costume with the mask up. I smile and shake my head. “No thanks.”

  “Wanna dance with me?” he asks sweetly.

  “No thanks. My boyfriend is coming now.” I point to the guy at the bar watching this guy hit on me.

  Spiderman lifts his eyebrows and smirks. “Is he good enough for a hottie like you?”

  I laugh and wave. “Bye.” I hate being rude, but this won't be the only boy accosting me.

  I close my eyes again and feel the beat.

  The cold beer is pressed into my palm after a few minutes. I take it and flash a vampire smile. He passes the beers to my girls.

  He grins at me. “You are sexy.”

  I laugh. “What's your name?”

  He leans in. “Jon.” He has dirty-blond hair, blue eyes, dimples, and a sexy surfer look. He's actually dressed as a surfer, but I would bet he got the outfit from his own closet.

  “I'm Rayne.”

  “I know. I'm Wyatt's frat brother. He told me to stay away from you or he would kick my ass.” He bursts out laughing. I feel weird about the whole thing. I look at Wyatt and catch him staring at us. He isn’t wearing a costume. He doesn’t need one, except maybe some horns and a tail.

  I grab the surfer shirt and press my lips into Jon. I moan and savor the smell of him. He presses his body against mine. I'm lost in him when something pinches into my arm. “Stop.” An angry voice blasts into my ear over the music.

  I pull away and see Wyatt's crazed face in mine. “What are you doing?”

  Jon clenches his jaw and pushes Wyatt. “Back off, man. Don’t grab her arm like that.”

  Wyatt looks at him and points. “Leave now.”

  Jon looks at me and shakes his head. “No. You're a head case, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt grabs his arms and sends him sailing through the crowd. People push him and shove him when he hits them. He trips and ends up lost in the crowd.

  Somehow everyone notices Jon tripping and flailing. They miss Wyatt holding me by my arm and growling at me.

  I glance at Michelle and Mona watching me. Michelle is in the arms of Benny. He gives me a nod, and I shake my head. They all look pissed, but I don’t want a scene. No more than the one I'm in.

  “Like he would stand a chance. Why do you insist on hurting these people, Rayne? Leave. No one wants you here. No one wants your kind.” His words are venom in my ears.

  “What kind, psycho? You're an effing nut, Wyatt. Stop watching me and talking to me. I hate you.” I tear my arm away from his grip and walk away. I hurry to the bathroom and push on a stall door. When it flings open, I slide in and close it. I am twitching in agony. If the stall were bigger, I would pace.

  I cross my arms and sit on the toilet.

  I bite my upper lip and wait for the pain to pass.

  “Rayne, you okay?” Mona asks from outside my stall.

  I nod. “Yup.” My voice is weak.

  “You sure?”

  I shake my head. “No. I never did anything to him. I know I didn’t. I left our date early, that’s it. He's been a miserable jerk since the day HE hit ME. It wasn’t even a date. It was an early dinner.”

  She shakes her head. “Stop worrying about it. He's such a dick. I threw my beer at him. That’s why I'm hiding in here.”

  I laugh. Mona is crazy. “Did you hit him?”

  She chuckles. “Yeah. In the chest. It spilled all over him. He came up and swore at me and told me I should move out of the dorm and not live with you anymore. I called him a cock and the bouncer came up. He threw him out. I just don’t want to be thrown out for throwing a bottle of beer.”

  I open the door. “He's gone?”

  She nods. “Yeah. He got bounced. Asshat.”

  I look at myself in the mirror and try to ignore my glowing eyes. “Total asshat. He's a douche canoe, that one.” I act like I hate him, but truth be told, I am worried the bouncer hurt him.

  Stuff is wrong with me.

  We leave the bathroom and head back for the dance floor. We dance and I end up making out with Jon some more. He apologizes for not sticking up for me. I tell him I understand. He would have been kicked from his house. He is a good kisser and he smells delish. I can't help myself. We stumble down the stairs at the end of the night, laughing and leaning on each other. I'm not drunk. I'm high from the energy.

  “Wanna go for breakfast?” he asks. I want him for breakfast. I shake my head and lean in for a kiss. I may have my first sober sex, ever.

  We walk up College Street and head home. My feet hurt a little. My black ballet flats are not made for hours of dancing.

  “So, what's up with you and Wyatt?”

  I shake my head. “No clue. We went on a date once. He's acted like an asshole ever since.”

  He looks confused. “One date?”
I nod.

  He shrugs. “Weird. He acts like you guys were serious. I saw you leave that morning in his clothes.”

  I shake my head. “I was sick. He let me sleep over. Nothing happened. I didn’t want it to.”

  It's weird that then, when I had him attacking me, I didn’t want him, but now he's mean to me and I want him more than food or air. My intense attraction/love for him started the day he hit me.

  Stuff is wrong with me.

  “He's a dick. I'm probably going to get kicked out of my house for this. But I don’t care.” He laughs. He's very drunk.

  I grab his arm. “Wait, he's going to kick you out for kissing me?”

  He hiccups. “If he doesn’t beat me bloody. He's a wicked fighter. I saw him kick the crap out of some guy a few weeks ago. The guy was huge and older, and he still didn’t stand a chance against Wyatt.”

  I know about his anger. I've felt the sting of it firsthand. Oddly enough, it wasn’t enough to make me hate him, not properly.

  “Yeah, he's weird about you. Any guys even mention you and he gets creepy. His eyes go all dark.” He makes a spooky face and then laughs.

  I laugh too, but I am stunned.

  We walk and talk and I lose my interest in him. I decide to walk him to his place and make sure he gets home safely.

  Halfway across the huge sprawling greens, I see him. He's standing under a tree, leaning the way he always does. Like our encounter is casual. Like he's waiting for me after school and just wants to chat. My stomach starts to ache because I know it isn’t casual. It never is.

  “Jon, you should probably walk that way.” I point toward their house. He looks up and shouts, “SCREW YOU, WYATT! YOU BASTARD!” His speech is still a bit slurred. “I'll protect you from him.” He walks out in front of me.

  “No, just walk that way. I can take care of myself.” I can't, but I can scream, maybe.

  “No, I got this.” He shoos me away.

  When we get closer, I'm scared. Not just for me, but for Jon too. Wyatt looks savage in the shadow of the tree.

  He points at me. “You have to stop this, Rayne. No more dating.” He is angrier than I've ever seen him.