Page 16 of These Eternal Bones
Dark eyes snap back to mine. My heart shudders in my chest as something flickers behind his cold, intense gaze. A glancing blow of grief, pain…guilt even, or perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me. What could a creature like him know of such fleeting human emotions? Does he feel at all?
That would be the true torment of eternity. The feelings. Never-ending.
His hand finds mine, halting my breath in my lungs. His movements are a little too quick, but fluid all the same. “There is beauty in it, if only one is willing to wait long enough for it to find you.”
My mind blanks as he brings my hand to his lips, pressing them there. Not in a kiss but a seal, his cold lips relishing in the warmth.When his eyes meet mine, they’re black again, that edging of ink spreading across his cheeks.
“Elric…” I breathe, my heart thundering in my chest.
I watch as he catches himself, offering me another smile as he releases my hand, “I’ll be back soon. Tomorrow to–”
“No!” I jerk out a little too forcefully, making his eyes darken further, the veins on his strong jaw snaking to his lips. “It’s just, I’d like time to settle myself, if this is to be my home truly.”
What had seconds ago looked verging on anger softens, the intensity of his eyes warming as he stares down at me. Oh yes, I do believe he feels it all…how could one not be irreparably maddened by such an existence?
“Of course, little syringa, but someone will be by tomorrow to repair the roof. Please do not hesitate to request anything you may need.” He heads toward the door, somehow the graceful, large man seeming to drag his feet as he goes. It’s then that my body decides to spite me. Another gut-stabbing cramp is accompanied by a warm leak of fluid. My eyes widen in horror, for a second, before I school my features, only to look up and find his eyesthere.
Oh god, please spare me one single indignity.
“Okay great!” I squeak out. “Please, you can go.” All but pushing thevampireout of his own dwelling because with my monthly bleed, I’ve clearly lost all sense of self-preservation. My eyes find the cording black veins on his neck and the flash of white canines before I slam the door in his face, debating drowning myself in the creek.
I give it an hour before I lift my skirts, an hour sitting in my blood before I brave the latest of my body’s betrayals. Taking stock of the things whirling in my mind.
Monsters are real.
Vampires are real.
And I’ve suddenly found myself employed by one, with a job that I cannot do.
I’ve just started my monthly in the middle of the woods.
I’ve always looked at the bright side, prided myself on my composure. Growing up surrounded by people with vibrant, big emotions, it never felt like there was much room left over for mine. One more person sobbing and screaming, be it with joy or pain, seemed like one person too much. Like my voice would be the one to push it all over the edge.
So, I kept sweet.
Kept quiet.
StoicMolly.
EasygoingMolly.
AgreeableMolly.
It was never that;Iwas never that. The abyss was full, my voice useless fodder within it. Another scream lost to the cacophony. A universal chorus of suffering. The sob that leaves me isn’t so much a cry, but ascream. A bellow of frustration and…rage. Of fear and uncertainty. Of monotony and the inescapable reality of my plight, I am at the will of a man. Again.
Monsters are real.
I am bloody.
And ithurts.
The rage starts as a bubble of heat in my chest, a tingle, an itch that demands to be scratched for the very first time in my life. I can feel itlicking like flames up my throat, heat grazing the chapped skin of my lips as I tighten them, sucking them between my teeth like that’ll stop it. It doesn’t.
I scream.
My hands ache as I pound my fists and scrape at the floor of the cottage. I finally understand why they did it so much. It seems once you start…it’s impossible to stop. I stumble as I get to my feet, another wrenching cramp tearing through my stomach, and I canfeelhim again…deep within the very marrow of me. Spice and cedar fill my nose, but it doesn’t stop me. My heart is racing with my pulse, a bloody trail, a trickle of self-hatred following my destruction as I rip at the bedding, throwing pots and pans, tools and trinkets,gifts. I sob because I miss my home. Because I amfucked, because there is no escape, no mercy to be found while I stand in an abundance of it.
For once, I want to be ungrateful.
