by Myers, J. L.
In the security of Kendrick’s comforting arms, sleep finally claimed my exhausted body. Though not even unconscious slumber could steal my mind and memory.
Frozen in wide-eyed horror, I stood in my room at the foot of my four-poster bed. Ty was before me, touching and caressing the pale girl in his arms. His head of glossy-black hair—with lips connected to hers—blocked her face from view.
It’s a dream, I told myself. My arms coiled around my body, nails digging into my sides hard enough to cut flesh. Please wake up. Please wake up. It didn’t work. Before me, my worst nightmare had come to life, and I couldn’t escape.
Desperate not to see them, I tried to look away. My body ignored my internal command, my head refusing to move. My eyelids were fixed open as if held by grotesque clamps. I tried to scream, to cry out for them to stop. Instantly my tongue felt swollen, my throat clogged up.
As ice-cold tears streamed down my immobile face, Ty’s lips moved, trailing down her neck and exposing her face. Vomit spiked my throat, burning with acidity. My eyes, now able to move again, fixed on hers. They were the same silvery-blue eyes of a vampire, of my own. The face I had expected to be alien was not. She had identical thin, pale lips, ivory skin, high cheekbones, and long, golden-blond hair.
Totally mystified, I stared at the now smiling and fanged reanimation of my own reflection. The girl was…me.
~
After a night of repetitive nightmares that locked me inside my own living hell, I awoke with a start. Kendrick’s comforting arms had just been ripped from around my body.
“How dare you take advantage of her,” Dorian’s irate voice sliced through the air.
I lurched upright, heart hammering. Broad daylight poured from the open doorway and into Kendrick’s room. It coated every darkened shade of varying indigo, white and stained-hardwood in shimmering, rich tones. The unexpected brightness stabbed at my eyes, and I blinked rapidly. Darkened shapes coalesced, taking form right before me. Dorian, his face ablaze with indignation, was clutching Kendrick’s bicep. His grip was so tight that fat drops of blood escaped from cuts his fingernails had created. His free hand was balled into such a tight fist that his knuckles whitened. He looked seconds from belting Kendrick square in the face.
“It’s not what you think,” Kendrick said. His hands rose, palms facing forward in a clearly defensive gesture. “Nothing happened!”
Dorian’s eyes burned liquid silver as he raked Kendrick over with a look of disgusted disbelief. My best friend was still scarcely dressed in his boxers. Dorian’s fist rose, muscles twitching to life.
“It’s the truth!” I screamed. I scrambled from the bed, tangled sheets catching around my limbs and tripping me. It took only a split-second for me to right the fall. In the past such clumsiness would have sent me face first into the corner of the square-edged side table. But as my feet hit the mink-soft carpet, I instantly regretted the hasty movement. Lack of blood made my head light and I staggered with dizziness.
Kendrick tore his arm out of Dorian’s grasp, catching me before I crumpled to the floor.
“Get your hands off her,” Dorian snarled, voice piercing like road spikes through soft tire-tread. He jerked me back and out of Kendrick’s supporting hand.
“Cut it out, Dorian!” I tried to pry my arm from Dorian’s grasp. His grip tightened, hand squeezing like it was an extension of his hardened face. “Look, I couldn’t stay in my room. Not after what happened. Kendrick was being a friend. That’s all!”
Dorian released me so suddenly that I staggered back. He ran a tense hand over his face, which seemed to instantly disarm him. “Sorry man,” he said, glancing up at Kendrick. “I just thought… And after, well, yesterday…I guess I just lost it.”
The air around us diffused like the ash of a bomb blast settling. It seemed only I was left wide-eyed and somewhat confused by Dorian’s aggressive and out of character display.
“She’s your sister,” Kendrick said. He moved forward to clasp Dorian’s hand. They bumped shoulders in a guy-like display of granted understanding. “I get it.”
The LMFAO song, ‘Party Rock Anthem’, sounded unexpectedly and I flinched. Dorian fished into his jean’s pocket and retrieved his iPhone, glancing at the screen. “It’s Marika.” He frowned then turned his back to answer the call.
“Dorian, I need to see you,” Marika’s rushed voice was just audible to my ears.
“What’s wrong?” Dorian whispered, striding to the open door as if the few feet would afford him privacy. “Where are you?”
“Just meet me at the animal shelter. My shift starts in thirty minutes.” And with that, the line went dead.
Dorian shrugged and turned back to us, sliding the phone back into his pocket. His face was set with confusion, his eyes distant. “I gotta go,” he said, the levelness of his voice a clear strain as he looked to me. “Will you be alright?”
“Of course,” I lied. Even though I felt raw to the bone, I straightened my back to fake stability. “Go.”
Once Dorian had slipped out of the room, I turned to Kendrick. “You too,” I said, slinging my arms over my chest and dropping back onto his bed.
Kendrick’s brows rose with surprise. “You’re kicking me out of my own room?”
Guilt prickled my skin. After everything Kendrick had done for me, he didn’t deserve to be sent off. But there was still so much mess clouding my mind. The drain from broken, nightmare-plagued sleep was increasing by the minute. Still, the thought of returning to my own room struck an almost prickly, tight feeling through my heart. It was too soon. I couldn’t do it. “I just need to be alone for a while. Kendrick, please.”
With a deep sigh, Kendrick pulled on his t-shirt and jeans that had been draped over the back of the couch. He came to stand beside me and bent, pulling his satin sheets over my legs. Then gingerly—with a touch I almost didn’t feel—he kissed the crown of my hair. “Stay here as long as you want.” He picked up his boarding mag and strode to the door. “I’ll check in on you later.”
~
Much of the day passed in slow motion. Each hour, minute, and second somehow seemed longer than the last. Sleep was patchy, offering some reprieve from the physical pain that gripped my heart. Although the physical pain subsided with sleep, the emotional and mental strain did not. With every moment of sleep came the re-enactment of my nightmare. It seemed so eerily real, mimicking in closer proximity the disgusting detail of what Ty had done.
The waking hours weren’t any easier. The memory of seeing my likeness wrapped in Ty’s muscle-bound embrace haunted my thoughts, forcing comparison between nightmare and reality. The pale skin I had glimpsed from the door and the long blond hair was so like my own. Was my subconscious simply playing a cruel joke on me? Still, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t shake the image of her, of my own face staring back at me and the parted lips revealing sharpened fangs which were my own. It was just a dream, I kept telling myself. Though no matter how many times I said it, I couldn’t bring myself to actually believe the words.
The sound of my iPhone blaring Skillet’s song ‘Never Surrender’ drew me upright. It was a personalized text alert. I sighed and threw my legs over the edge of the bed. Beyond the arched windows bordering Kendrick’s bed, the sun had just dipped past the mountainous horizon. The waning light cast dark shadows about the room. Dorian had ducked back in after Kendrick’s departure with my iPhone. He was off to meet Marika, but still wanted to be able to check up on me. Annoyingly, he had drawn open the drapes, insisting the sunlight would help lift my mood. Being too thought-consumed at the time, I hadn’t bothered to close them.
I went to grasp my phone and paused. There was a full block of mint-centered chocolate with a post-it attached. ‘Kendrick told me you and Ty broke up. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Come see me when you’re awake. Love Mom.’
Certain Kendrick wouldn’t have told Mom the reason Ty and I broke up, I ripped into the chocolate. Yay mint! It was my all-time favorite flavor. A s
plit second later two blocks were in my mouth. I sighed and took hold of my phone from the bedside table. The text was probably another one from Dorian. A full list of texts took up the entire screen. I slept through that? Five of the six visible texts were from either Dorian or Kendrick. Each held varying questions on how I was feeling.
The sixth text almost made me choke. It was from Ty. His arrogance sickened me while bubbling rage forced my vision into a blur. Blinking and unable to stop myself, I opened the text. The words glared up at me, black on white. ‘Amelia, I need 2T2U.’ I need to talk to you.
I was tempted to crush the phone, but as I began to squeeze it blared again. My damning curiosity got the better of me. I braced myself, nails of my free hand slicing through satin to puncture the mattress’s padded top. ‘Let me explain. It’s not what U think.’
My curiosity vanished. I squeezed the mattress harder, rage turning every muscle along my arms rigid. I almost felt the urge to laugh, just to stop the waterworks I felt looming behind my eyes. It’s not what I think?
When the phone went off again, my face was boiling. My entire body was trembling, ready to explode. Incredulity burned from my eyes. Against my better judgment, I dared to read the last text. ‘Plz tlk 2 me. I’m sorry.’
“Sorry? You’re SORRY!”
I struck out with shaking hands to snatch the ceramic lamp from the bedside. Then with a roar of pain that tightened my chest, I hurled the lamp at the door. The power cord flung out, whipping past my cheek. A sting of cut flesh bloomed across my face and the door swung open just as the lamp connected. A shower of ceramic erupted around my best friend, just barely missing his head.
Recovering from the initial shock, Kendrick rushed to my side, dropping to his knees. His hands gripped my thighs with needled fingers. “What happened?” He scanned the room, his body taut and ready to defend any threat. “Amelia, talk to me. Are you okay?”
I cupped his face with my hands, and forced his still-darting eyes to meet mine. “He’s not here,” I said, glancing sidelong at my phone.
Kendrick half-slumped, dropping his head into my lap while whistling through his lips. “You scared the crap outta me. I didn’t know what to think.”
“You worry too much,” I said softly. My fingers raked gently through his thick, golden hair. “But I think I’m ready.”
Kendrick raised his head, eyes that looked almost hopeful searching mine. “For what?”
“To go back to my room…” I paused, biting my lip. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
Kendrick smiled, though tightness was still visible across his face. “Wherever you want me, I’ll be there.” He cupped my face with one hand. His thumb ran over the cut that I could already feel healing, smearing away the spilled blood. “Always.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
With Kendrick’s guarding arm around me, we wavered just outside the open classroom door, each with an armful of textbooks. Dorian—with wet hair from before-school swim practice—tipped an apparently directive nod at my best friend.
It was Monday morning and first up was Psychology. The class I shared with both Kendrick and Ty. Fan-freaking-tastic!
Dorian’s brows rose and his set teeth parted. “I’ll see you both at lunch.”
With a nod from Kendrick, Dorian turned away and we entered the classroom. My best friend’s free arm tightened around me. A girl at the front of the class glanced up from her perch atop a desk. She slapped the girl next to hear. The movement sparked a chain-reaction throughout the entire room. Now every set of eyes was flickering from us to Ty. I groaned internally as their flapping lips moved with audible whispers.
“Ignore them,” Kendrick whispered into my ear.
But ignoring their incessant whispering, I found, was the least of my struggles. Already my eyes had crossed the room to settle on Ty. He occupied the desk we had shared beside a long window with a view down to the courtyard, his training bag at his feet. I could smell the chlorine in his damp, messy hair from this morning’s training session. And I could feel the pain in his sad lingering eyes. Against my will my heart contracted. The barbed wire tightened its hold around the organ with a piercing sting. I winced at the pain. How can he still have this effect on me?
Pain or not, I wasn’t about to give Ty the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under my skin. So I decided to fake it and walked on, forging a careless smile. My left arm hugged the books to my chest, while my right clung tighter to Kendrick’s waist. With relative success, I sidled into the seat next to my best friend, right up at the back of the class. Where Ty used to sit. Ty’s guilt-stricken eyes were still locked on me, his jaw set with lips pinned shut. I hoped he felt like dying.
Ty turned away, shoulders hunched with a show of defeat, almost as though he’d heard my thoughts. My heart sank. The last thing I wanted was for him to look away, to give-up, to get over me and not feel the pain that had been so clearly etched across his face. Instead, I wanted him to yearn for me. To suffer knowing I would never be his again. To think I had moved on with someone else.
“Hey,” Kendrick said, nudging me. “I thought I broke his nose. He doesn’t even look injured.”
I choked on the air. “You did what?”
Instantly my surprise paled to guilt. I was a sucky best friend. Kendrick still had no idea that Ty was a lycanthrope. Even if he’d broken Ty’s nose, it would have healed by now. Yet I still couldn’t bring myself to tell Kendrick the truth. For some unexplainable reason, I didn’t want to cause Ty trouble or see anything bad happen to him. Because… I gulped, feeling as though I had just swallowed a brick. Because even after everything he did to me, I didn’t and couldn’t hate him. Realization hit me like a face of icy water. …Because I still loved him.
Kendrick waved off my worried expression. “Obviously I didn’t hit him hard enough.”
Mr. McKenna strolled into the room then. He dumped an armful of texts and his tweed jacket on his desk up front. Then he scribbled today’s lesson outline in white chalk on the blackboard. “Let’s get started,” he said clapping his hands together.
The class fell in line as the teacher began rambling on. I opened my textbook with a sigh. A vibration against my chest caused me to stiffen. It was my iPhone, set on silent and buzzing with a new text. I pulled it from the inside pocket of my zip-up hoodie. The words shone like a taunting threat. ‘FWIW.’ For what it’s worth. ‘I’m not giving up on us.’
I shoved the phone back into my pocket and snatched out my hidden chocolate bar. Without pause I ripped the wrapper back and took a huge bite.
Kendrick nudged me. “Who was that?”
I took another big bite, shrugging. “No one,” I lied. The words made the chocolate taste like acid in my mouth. But I didn’t want him to worry about me anymore than I wanted to be the cause of a scene. “It’s nothing.”
“You only ever eat candy like that when you’re freaking out,” Kendrick growled. He belted his fist against the wooden desk and shot to his feet. The chair’s legs squealed against wooden floorboards. “I know it was him. I oughta…”
Mr. McKenna turned with raised brows at Kendrick along with every student in the class. “Is there a problem, Mr. Baldassare?”
I gripped Kendrick’s forearm, nails biting flesh and eyes pleading. “Don’t, please. It will only make things worse.”
With hardened eyes like chips of glass, Kendrick shook his head at our teacher. “No, no problem.” He resumed his seat, murmuring under his breath. “But next time, there will be.”
~
I entered my art class later that morning. Anxious energy streamed through my body. The thought of having to endure Vanessa, and what I expected to be a big, smirk-riddled I told you so, fueled coiling dread within me.
Vanessa was positioned at her easel before the glass-paneled window. Her red hair stood out against her vibrant green top that matched the fernery outside. To my utter relief, she appeared totally engrossed, vigorously running the golden tip of a thin paintbrush
in a circular motion over her canvas. I turned my iPod up, letting the words of Three Days Grace distract me. If I’m lucky she’ll ignore me.
As if to spite my wish, she glanced up. And I was surprised. Her sapphire eyes were not sparkling with gloating as I had expected. Instead they were open and kind. “Amelia. It’s good to see you.”
Having heard her through the music, I removed my earbuds. I sunk down before my easel and crossed my arms over my chest. “It is?”
My eyes wandered over her portrait, which was almost completed. It was a beautiful mirroring of her thin and pale physique, pixie-like features and blazing hair. Though unlike the designer clothing she usually wore, she had painted herself in what looked like body-fitted leather and wicked-heeled boots. Her hair was painted up in a high ponytail, and thin gold symbols took up the background of the canvas. There was something familiar about the symbols that tickled the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Vanessa twisted to face me, drawing my eyes from her portrait. “Away from prying eyes…”
Cynicism stole into my tone. “Oh?”
Vanessa smiled and clasped her hands in her lap. “You don’t understand what really happened Saturday night. You only know what you saw.”
Anger sent a flash of heat across my cheeks. “What I saw was enough.” My retort was barely above a whisper, and imprinted with ice. I narrowed glaring eyes at her. “Why do you care, anyway? It’s not like you ever actually liked me. You made it clear you didn’t approve of me and…Ty.” Just saying his name tore into my heart, and I clutched at my shirt. Would physically tearing out the organ be less agonizing? “You told me to stay away from him.”
