Page 33 of Even Vampires Bleed
I have no idea how she activated Léandre’s microchip, but I have no doubt that’s what just happened, because between the moment I entered that bathroom and the one I got out of it, Léandre had forgotten everything about me—about himself.
The man I have started to fall in love with just disappeared, and I don’t know what to do.
I know I should be getting up—that I should be getting downstairs. I should try to find Elhyor and Angie to explain what happened, but I have no strength. I’m shaking, covered in tears and snot, and all I want is to disappear where Léandre’s mind went.
I must be crying too loud though because Léandre opens the door to our room—only his now, because I can’t bring myself to tell him it was mine before it was ours—and sits next to me.
“What is wrong with you?” he asks.
It’s not said in a mean tone, but it makes me cry even more because he doesn’t realize that I’m crying because of him, that I’m crying for him.
For everything he just lost without even knowing.
For everything he was.
For everything he wanted to be.
For all his dreams and all our projects together.
For us.
And for me.
Because now, I’m the only one who knows how good we were together, and when I look at him, I can’t see the light that used to shine through his eyes when he looked at me.
I’m just a stranger to him.
And he’s just a stranger wearing the face of the man I was falling in love with.
We just sit like that, next to each other, me not able to say a single word between fits of crying and him waiting for an answer he might never get.
How do I say to the man who just asked, “What is wrong with you?” that what is wrong is him, that what is wrong is his mind, that what is wrong is the fact someone just stole his past twenty-or-so years, and that he’s never going to recover them?
How do I say to the man who I’m pretty sure had the same kind of feelings I had that he disappeared?
How do I tell the stranger that took his place that he’s the reason why I’m not right anymore?
I don’t.
It’s as simple as that.
So, I keep crying.
And he stays next to me in silence.
He doesn’t offer comfort with words or with gestures.
He just stays here next to me, and I keep crying because I can still smell him, I can still see him, but it’s not him anymore.
I’m drowning in my sorrow and I’m helpless to tell him to leave me here, because as much as I hate the stranger sitting next me right now, the smell of him is still soothing a bit my nerves, and I have a feeling I would be much more of a mess if I couldn’t feel him next to me.
At some point, my tears dry up a bit, but I’m still not ready to answer Léandre’s question.
I try to get up, but my legs feel like cotton, and I’m struggling.
Léandre gets up and helps me stand.
The feeling of his hands against my bare arms is like an electric shock, and my tears start anew.
