15. Chloe
Fifteen
Chloe
I startle awake. Adrenaline pumping, muscles poised to react…
To my empty bathroom.
Blinking my eyes, I lift my chin from my knees and push through the stiffness in my neck to turn my head. Searching for whatever it was that disturbed me.
But there’s nothing there.
The water is still dripping steadily from the faucet, and sunlight is streaming through the curtains. My phone is on the floor, upside down, where I dropped it.
Nothing is out of place.
I’m completely alone.
It must have been a dream.
Sagging with relief, I let out a breath.
He’s not here. He didn’t somehow break in while I slept.
Letting my lashes lower, I begin to ease into sleep once again, but then I remember I can’t stay here. I need to get up. I need to move.
Who knows how much time has passed? How much time I’ve already wasted?
Jolting again, I open my eyes and look to the window, studying the sunlight. Given how weak it is, it must still be early morning.
Which means I only passed out for a few minutes.
Thank God.
There’s still plenty of time to plan my escape. There’s still plenty of daylight left to get to another city.
Unwrapping my arms from around my legs, I grimace and grunt a little as I push up to my feet. Slapping my palm against the tile, I give myself a second to let the pain vibrating through my bones to fade away.
I feel like I just got run over by a dump truck. An evil dump truck that ran over me, backed up, and did it again.
Once the pain becomes more bearable, I take quick stock of myself. Despite the aches, all my bits and pieces seem to be intact.
Reaching up, I touch my neck. My fingers searching for and failing to find where I was bit.
I healed. Just like I do after the sacraments.
Good.
Dropping my arm, I glance to the window again. Trying to gauge the time.
It must be before seven. That gives me approximately nine hours. Eight, if he has the power to move around before the sun fully sets.
Knowing time is on my side, I give myself a few more seconds to rest. After the night I had, and the lack of sleep, Lord knows I need it.
I’m surprised I’m still alive, to be honest. And not because I spent all night dealing with vampires.
I’m surprised I haven’t keeled over from a heart attack.
The stress of the entire situation was nearly unbearable… My heart twinges even now with pain from racing too fast.
At least I hope it’s the stress that’s causing the pain…
When I finally push away from the wall to step out of the tub, I move one foot forward and notice a stickiness between my thighs.
Cringing, I stop and consider ignoring it, but the thought of running around all day covered in old sweat turns my stomach.
Who knows when I’ll get another a chance to get clean?
I’ve never been through one of the rescue missions the Order has done for a cursed woman. I’ve heard of them, yes, but never actually been through one myself. So I don’t know what it all entails.
What I do know is that they tend to relocate the women in danger to other continents. Hiding them in countries on the other side of the world. This might be my last few hours in North America. Tomorrow I could wake up somewhere in Europe, Africa, or Asia.
Off the grid and totally unprepared.
Telling myself I need to give Isaac time to get here anyway, I yank the shower curtain closed and turn on the faucet.
As soon as the water comes out warm, I turn the knob for the showerhead. Still dressed, I let the shower wash over me before I peel my clothes off one by one and toss them behind me. Leaving them in a wet pile for Charity to deal with later.
Charity… I’ll need to check on her…
Before I leave, I might need to go back to the dumpster and get her.
Closing my eyes, I shove my face into the pulsing stream, letting the water strip the night’s filth away.
Flashes of what happened spark behind my closed lids.
Father Dominic looming over me with a wicked blade held in his hand.
Nikolaos standing in my living room.
The blank expression on Charity’s face.
Ambrose’s red eyes.
Blindly grabbing a bottle of body wash, I squirt a big glob into my palm and start scrubbing my body.
I rub my hands along my shoulders, down my arms, and over my breasts. I swirl the soap into my stomach, my legs, and hips.
The moment I touch myself between my thighs though, my body violently reacts.
The monster’s face sears into my vision, and hot, needy desire surges through my veins.
Knees weakening, I slap both of my hands against the slippery tile to keep from falling over. No longer touching myself, I wait for the fiery liquid ache to fade away.
But it lingers, like a strong echo.
An echo of what I felt when our gazes first met.
After seeing his face once… I’m forever tainted.
Panting into the steam of the shower, I try to redirect my thoughts away from him. Pulling up images of everything I find awful and distasteful.
Spiders spinning webs around squirming bugs.
Snakes bulging as they swallow prey whole.
But nothing works.
My brain keeps going back to that moment.
Back to the sheer power of his presence and beauty.
A beauty that even now makes me want to scream.
Nails clawing at the tile, I hear his voice in my head. I feel the force of his longing.
Let me in .
The desperation… Oh God, the desperation.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
It’s the desperation one must feel when they know they’re dying and clinging to their last breath.
Does he want me that bad? Does he want me so bad he’s dying because of it?
He’s not dying , I quickly remind myself.
He’s already dead. He’s just trying to tempt me.
Tempt me like the snake in the Garden of Eden.
I will not be Eve, dammit. I can’t. I refuse.
“Our Father, who art in heaven,” bursts out of my mouth as I launch into the first prayer that comes to my mind.
A prayer so ingrained in me, I can say it my sleep.
When I reach the end, I jump into the prayer of protection.
After begging Saint Benedict for help and still feeling like I’ll combust at any second, my mark and pussy both throbbing in sync with each other, I recite the Benedict prayer.
Frustration and despair begin to set in when I reach the end of that prayer and still feel no relief.
I’m empty… so hollow and empty.
And divine words are not filling me.
Stomach clenching hard at the thought of what could fill me, I start to cry. My tears mixing with the water streaming down my face.
Either God has abandoned me or I’ve asked Him for too much help. Either way, I’m screwed because there’s no way I can live the rest of my life like this.
No freaking way.
Not without going crazy.
I want to be touched so bad…
I want to feel his hands upon my body.
His lips against my lips.
I want to know if his name is really Asher .
So I can moan it in his mouth.
Memories of my dreams begin to fog up my head.
The way he pushed his body into my body. The speed and brute strength behind his hips.
The way he bit my neck.
Fingers slipping down the tile, I begin to sink down to my knees.
“Please….” I groan.
To myself.
To the heavens.
To him .
And I swear I feel something answer back.
It’s faint… so very faint.
But it sounds like my name.
Chloe .
Soft warmth fills me at once, and it’s not the same warmth of the lust pumping through my blood.
It’s the warmth of… affection.
At least that’s what I think it is. It’s the only word my frazzled brain can up with to describe the strange sensation.
I let the warmth wrap around me, not like a blanket but a cloud. A fluffy cloud that will protect me.
The throbbing between my legs begins to ease, not completely gone, but muffled by the static fuzziness.
The air around me also seems to thin, and I find it easier to breathe.
Sucking in big mouthfuls of air, my head begins to clear.
The need to go to him is still there, but it’s not quite as extreme.
I don’t feel like I’ll die from lust if I don’t find him and throw myself at him at this very minute.
Which is good… almost too good.
What happened? Where did this… protection come from?
Did God take pity on me and decide to answer my prayers?
As soon as that thought enters my head, the water pulsing out of the showerhead turns ice cold.
Shrieking, I scramble forward, slipping precariously on the slick tub, and quickly turn the water off.
The damage is done though.
Shivering from the cold, the warm fuzziness that was floating around me is gone.
But so is the lust.
The fires of my need have been extinguished.
I guess all I needed was a cold shower.
Feeling like I’m going fucking crazy, I wrap my arms around myself. Rocking back and forth, I wait for the unwanted lust to come back. To attack me again.
When it doesn’t, when only the ache of emptiness pulses weakly behind my ribs, I yank the shower curtain open and stumble out of the bathtub.
Somehow I manage to grab a towel without tearing the rod from the wall and wrap it around myself. Grabbing another towel, I throw it over my head and bend down to pick up my phone.
Touching the screen, I try to bring up the time, but it remains blank.
I guess it died sometime last night.
Sighing, I turn off the sink faucet and walk into my bedroom. After plugging my phone into the charger, I get dressed.
It’s tempting to wear my own clothes for once, but I decide against it. He may know where I am and it might all be pointless now, but who knows what will happen today. There’s still hope inside me that I can get away.
There’s still hope that Isaac or Father McCall will help me.
Choosing quickly between the two inappropriate shirts Charity left me yesterday, I settle on I Don’t Spit, I Gargle and pull it over my head. After stepping into some panties and leggings, I walk over to my nightstand and check on my phone.
The screen is lit up now with a slight charge and the time is displayed in big white Arabic numerals.
5:15
Thinking that must be a mistake, that it can’t possibly be right, I pick my phone up and quickly shut it off and on again.
It must be stuck on the time it died at or something…
Shifting from foot to foot in impatience, I stare hard at my phone screen, waiting for it to light up with light.
When it does, I want to scream.
5:16
No.
No, no, no .
I didn’t sleep all day. It’s still morning. The sun is still up…
Running to my window, I pull open the curtains and stare out in horror.
The sun isn’t rising in the horizon, floating above all the buildings. It’s setting, slowly but surely sinking below them.
Oh God, I’ve wasted so much time…
Panic taking over, I race back over to my phone and pick it up.
I have so many missed calls, I can’t even begin to sort through them, so I just go straight to voicemail.
Hitting play, Charity’s voice blasts through my speaker. “You bitch! How dare you leave me in a dumpster! I remember everything from last night, and if you think—”
Grimacing at her screeches and honestly not caring about what she has to say, I skip to the next message.
Father Dominic’s cold voice slithers into my ear, cranking up my sense of dread. “Chloe, I’ve received your codeword. Call me back at this number.”
His message promptly ends, and nothing plays after.
That’s it. Two voicemails.
Two voicemails from the people I dislike the most in the world…
What about Father McCall? What about Isaac?
Did they forget about me?
I finally check through my missed calls but they’re all from Charity and a number I don’t recognize. The number that must be Father Dominic’s.
Why is he calling me? How did he get my codeword?
Fearing the worst but hoping I’m just being pessimistic, I tap on his missed call and dial the number.
The line rings five times before he answers. “Hello?”
“Father Dominic,” I croak out then clear my throat. “It’s Chloe.”
“Ah, Chloe,” he says, his voice oozing his dislike. “How nice of you to finally call me back.”
“I’m sorry, I…” trailing off with a sigh, my shoulders slump.
I don’t even know how to explain why I passed out.
Or why I should have to explain it. He obviously got my message and knows I’m in danger.
“You ran into a little trouble? Hmm? Ran into your vampire lover?” he finishes for me.
“He’s not my lover—”
Father Dominic interrupts me before I can fully defend myself. “Not yet. But we both know it’s only a matter of time before you spread your whore legs and let him defile you.”
“What?” I gasp in disbelief.
Did he really just say that to me?
“Chloe, Chloe, Chloe,” he says, chiding me like I’m child. “Drop the innocent act. You should know by now that it doesn’t work on me. I’m immune to your wicked charms.”
What on earth is he talking about? What wicked charms?
Scratch that, I don’t really want to know.
“Where’s Father McCall?” I ask, trying to keep my anger out of my voice. “I need to speak to him. It’s an emergency.”
“He’s dead,” Father Dominic says simply.
So simply I’m not sure I heard him right.
“What?” I find myself gasping for the second time.
“He’s dead, Chloe,” Father Dominic says more firmly, his own anger leaking into his voice. “He was killed yesterday, by vampires.”
“No,” I moan as the truth of his words hits, taking all the strength out of me.
Father McCall is dead.
Killed by vampires.
The man who’s been my only protector in this cursed world is gone.
“Yes, he’s gone,” Father Dominic says cruelly, “and I’m stuck with you now.”
Looking up at the ceiling, tears stinging my eyes, I ask, “How?”
But I’m not asking Father Dominic, I’m asking God.
How could He take him from me?
Have I not lost enough?
My mother. My father.
My entire life.
All gone.
Have I not sacrificed enough? Have I not given enough?
How much more must I suffer? How much more must I endure to prove my devotion? How many more people around me must die?
Die because I’m cursed.
“He was attempting to rescue a cursed girl,” Father Dominic growls. “The mission went bad.”
A sob bubbles out of me and I quickly slap my hand over my mouth to smother the next one.
All of my heart and soul is in pain, terrible pain, but I know better, even now, than to show weakness in front of Father Dominic.
“Are you crying?” Father Dominic asks, and there’s so much disdain in his voice I can’t bring myself to answer him.
Another sob tries to bubble out of me and I gulp it back.
“You are crying,” Father Dominic says with smug certainty. Then his next words almost destroy me. “Good. You should be crying, Chloe. You practically killed him yourself.”
I shake my head hard in denial.
“It wasn’t me, it was vampires…” I remind him between sobs.
“It was your kind ,” he practically spits. “You Whores of Babylon. Evil Jezebels that will usher in the End of Times. Tempters of Man and Beast. You should all be burned at the stake. If you had any righteousness inside you, any love for God Almighty, you’d save us the trouble and end your own life.”
His words are so harsh, so cruel and unexpected, I feel like each one just slapped me in the face.
“You want me to kill myself?!” I practically screech.
“Yes,” he answers with no shame. “You should kill yourself, Chloe.”
I rock back on my heels, almost falling over in disbelief. Disbelief so strong it temporarily numbs my pain.
“That’s an unforgivable sin,” I remind him with a hiss.
“For a human,” he snaps back.
He couldn’t insult me more if he tried. I can take being called a whore, a jezebel, and everything else under the sun.
But reminding me that I’m not really human…
“What are you saying?” I ask, dreading his answer.
Father Dominic lets out a long sigh. “Are you that stupid? Have I not made it clear? You’re an evil abomination. A blight on this earth. You’re just as bad as the vampires, if not worse. You’re not human, Chloe. You have no hope at salvation. You have always been damned. Killing yourself will not change that, but it might save the lives of the righteous that do have a chance at paradise.”
“That… that’s just your opinion,” I stammer.
It can’t be true. If it is, then why has the Order protected me until now?
Why did they lie to me all this time?
Why did they give me hope?
Father Dominic laughs. “I assure you, it’s not. I’ve consulted with the Knights, and after reviewing all the facts, we’ve decided that your life no longer helps us achieve our goals.”
The Knights… the second highest authority in the Order. One step below the Lord Commander.
My first reaction is to accuse Father Dominic of lying.
But why would he lie?
“Goals? You used me to achieve goals? That’s all I’m worth…” I mumble in shock.
Is this really happening? Or am I trapped in a bad dream?
“Yes,” Father Dominic says, sounding impatient. “We used you to achieve our goals, Chloe, and you should be proud that you’ve helped us, that you’ve done a little good, but your usefulness has come to an end.”
Nodding to myself, I try to wrap my mind around that. Try to wrap my mind around my entire life being a lie .
“And you want me to kill myself?” I ask, still numb and unable to feel the awfulness of the words.
“Yes,” Father Dominic hisses at me. “Kill yourself before that vampire gets his hands on you. Kill yourself now for the good of the world.”
Sucking in a trembling breath, I hold it in my lungs then let it out. “And if I don’t?”
“If you don’t…” Father Dominic repeats like he didn’t expect that question.
“Yes, if I don’t,” I snap impatiently at him, throwing his own nastiness right back.
Father Dominic snarls, “If you don’t kill yourself, Chloe, you’ll become an enemy of the Order. We’ll hunt you, like the vampires, to the ends of the earth.”
At a loss for words, I find myself saying, “Okay, that’s good to know.”
Then I press the big red button to disconnect.
Father McCall is dead.
The Order wants me to die.
There’s no hope… there’s never been any hope of saving my eternal soul.
Any one of those things alone is capable of breaking me.
But combined?
I’m utterly destroyed.
Staring at my wall in a daze, my emotions shift rapidly.
First, there’s denial.
I tell myself what I heard, what Father Dominic said, isn’t real.
But it is real…
Deep down inside, I’ve always known what he finally spoke out loud.
I’ve always known that Heaven was never truly within my reach. But I thought, dammit, I thought it would be because of my own failure and weakness.
Not because I never had a chance in the first place.
What was the point? What was the point of living the way I’ve been living? Is this even living? Trapped inside four walls five days a week. Never being able to go out on my own, to explore.
To meet people and converse.
To be .
They locked me in a cage and convinced me it was for my own good.
And I believed them.
Fool that I am, I believed them!
Anger swells inside me and I grip my phone so hard I almost break it. Tossing it away in disgust, I start to slowly spin in a circle, my eyes sweeping around me.
At my small, neat little cage.
With a cry, I lash out and knock everything that’s on top of my nightstand to the floor.
But it’s not enough. Not enough to satisfy the rage burning inside me.
Grabbing the nightstand itself, I lift it up and toss it at the opposite wall.
Then I move onto my dresser. Sweeping everything on top of it to the ground.
Next come the drawers. Ripping them out, I toss them at the wall, enjoying the way they crack and break apart. The clothes spilling out like guts.
Just like me—everything I pick up, everything I throw, cracks and breaks apart.
Eventually, I make it to the altar. My little altar dedicated to Saint Benedict that I’ve prayed at three times a day, every day for years.
So many years…
Gone. They’re all gone.
All wasted.
And for what?
Misery.
Pure fucking misery.
Picking up the cross, I grip it. Letting it cut into my hand.
But the pain is too little.
With a scream, I throw it away. Not even watching where it goes.
Then I rip off the altar cloth and shred it with my hands. Shred it to pieces.
To match my heart.
Dropping the last scrap of cloth, I grab the altar by the leg and fling it away from me.
Then I fall to my knees.
The weight of my tears, of my grief, is so heavy my head falls forward.
I have nothing left.
I have no one left.
What is there to even live for?
What do I do now?
Die?
Reaching out to God, like I’ve always done when in need of guidance, I ask Him.
Do I die, God? Is that what you want? Is that what I was always meant to do?
Should I have died the day I was born?
Staring at the floor, I wait for an answer.
But there’s no answer.
Only silence. A crushing, deafening silence that makes me cry harder.
Deliriously I begin to think He’s not listening to me.
Like the Order, He’s turned his back on me…
Abandoning me to be alone.
Then, faintly, beneath all the grief and misery, I feel that warmth.
The fuzzy warmth of love and affection surrounding me in a cocoon.
I don’t know where it’s coming from and it scares me. I try to push it off. To shed it like an unwanted skin.
But it clings harder, tightening until I feel like I’m being held in a pair of arms.
A pair of arms that want me and love me and will never let me go.
There’s someone out there that needs me…
Someone who needs me to go on.
Tears drying, sobs quieting, I let the warmth comfort me. To fill me with renewed purpose.
A purpose I’m tired of fighting.
Lord knows, I’m tired of running and fighting.
So fucking tired.
The phantom arms cradle me, rocking me, until the pain is gone and my head is clear.
I know what I must do.
Why I was born.
My reason for existing.
The phantom arms fade away.
I shiver at their loss, the cold threatening to creep back in, then push up from the floor.
Lifting my head and brushing my hair out of my face, I look at the destruction of my room.
It looks like a tornado swept through. A violent tornado named Chloe.
Everything is scattered, broken, or shredded.
Even my bed… I don’t remember touching my bed, but the mattress is off the frame, the headboard cracked in half.
If I was in a better state of mind, I’d probably be afraid of what I did. Afraid of the violence and strength behind it.
But I’m not, and I’m running out of time. The sunlight is quickly dimming. The shadows in the corners are growing larger.
Where’s my phone?
Dropping to my knees again, I start sorting through everything on the floor. Searching for it.
I haven’t heard from Isaac, and I need to call him and tell him not to come.
It’s too late for a rescue now, and my monster is too close. If Isaac shows up, he’ll only be in danger.
I can’t lose him too , I think as I fling away a shirt.
He’s all I have left.
Crawling around on my hands and knees, I dig through the wreckage of my belongings. Hoping my phone wasn’t damaged in the carnage.
When my fingers finally slide across its smooth glassy surface beneath my broken bed frame, I let out a breath in relief.
Quickly grabbing it up, I touch the screen and watch it immediately light up. The light a little too harsh for my eyes in the dimness.
Squinting against the glare, I pull up Isaac’s number and press the big green button.
Lifting my phone to my ear, my heart thuds sickly in my chest as the line rings and rings.
Then drops to my stomach when I reach his voicemail.
No answer.
Why isn’t he answering? Did something happen…
Shaking away every dark thought trying to worm its way into my head, I hang up and redial his number.
He’s probably busy or something , I tell myself. He’ll answer this time.
The phone rings three times then connects.
“Isaac, where are you?” I rush out, both relieved he picked up and worried he’s close.
Only silence answers me.
“Isaac?” I ask tentatively, my heart sinking deeper into my stomach.
“Chloe, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” my monster says, and I feel it.
I feel how much he missed me in the pulsing ache behind my ribs. It’s that horrible need, that horrible longing that’s like dying.
Gasping, I drop to my ass.
“How….” I say breathlessly, my lungs struggling to process the air around me. “How did you get Isaac’s phone?”
Please tell me you didn’t kill him. Please.
“I found Isaac snooping around your house. Thinking he was a burglar or someone who wished to do you harm, I thought it best to apprehend him,” he nearly growls. “I told you I can’t protect you if you don’t invite me in. You should have invited me in .”
His anger licks at my skin and the mark on my thigh flares with the emotion. But the anger isn’t necessarily directed solely at me. He’s angry mostly because of the separation.
How I know all of this, how I can sense and feel it, I don’t know. But I do.
“He’s not a burglar, he’s my friend,” I say weakly.
Isaac was coming to save me…
“Oh, is he?” the monster says with mock surprise. Then he chides me like I’m a child. “Chloe, my love, we really need to talk about the kind of people you surround yourself with. You’re not making the best choices.”
When I don’t respond to that, too speechless, his voice thickens with sincerity. “I’m worried about you.”
Words elude me once more. How do I respond to that? Especially because I know he’s being completely sincere again.
He truly cares.
My throat starts to tighten up and my eyes burn.
Then I feel the throbbing in my thigh growing stronger.
He’s coming for me.
“Is Isaac okay?” I finally manage to ask before I forget how to breathe.
For the second time today I’m fearing the worst.
There’s a long, pregnant pause then he says, “He’s fine.”
I let out the air I was holding in a gush.
My shadow stalker says menacingly, “For the time being.”
That sounds way too ominous for my liking.
Sitting up straighter, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” He chuckles softly. “I mean it all depends on you.”
Alarm bells ring in my head.
“Asher,” I say slowly, carefully. Like one does when they’re dealing with a dangerous animal. “Is that your name? Asher?”
There’s another long pause, and when his voice fills my ear again it’s full of so much emotion my mark pounds a heavy beat, pulsing up and down my leg. “ Yes .”
Heat courses through my body and I have to squeeze my knees together. Fighting against the sudden flood of lust that wants to rob me of my senses.
“Please don’t hurt him,” I plead, my words almost slipping into a moan. “Please, Asher.”
Asher lets out a harsh breath.
Then he says almost as if he regrets it, “I can’t promise that.”
Panting now, my fingers squeeze hard around my phone. “What can you promise?”
Voice dropping low, so low I feel it thrumming in my stomach, he says, “Come to the door, Chloe.”
I want to go. Oh, how I want to go. I can feel a tug, a pulling, as if there’s a string inside me, urging me to get up, to move.
But I can’t.
Not.
Yet.
Gritting my teeth against the compulsion, I grind out, “No.”
“ Chloe ,” Asher growls, his anger licking at my skin again. “Come to the door right now .”
The pain of resisting, of refusing him, when he’s this close, just within my reach, brings tears to my eyes.
“No,” I groan in misery. Hoping. Praying. Secretly begging he gives me what I want. “Not until you promise me you won’t kill him.”
“Fine,” Asher snarls. “If you come to the door, if you come to me , I won’t kill him.”
The relief I feel is so powerful it’s almost like having an orgasm.
But he didn’t promise.
He has to promise.
“Promise?” I ask, shakily getting to my feet.
I sway, waiting for him to answer, the world spinning around me and becoming hazy.
“I promise,” Asher says impatiently.
I’m walking before I realize I’m even moving. My feet stepping over every little thing in my path with ease.
My hand opens my bedroom door without being told to, and every step I take down the hall and through the living room carries me closer to what I’ve been running from my entire life.
Floating as if I’m in a dream, a dream that is about to become a nightmare reality, everything passes by me in a blur.
I can feel him . His aura, his presence, reeling me in closer and closer.
Calling to me.
Singing to me.
When I finally reach the front door, I pause. The barrier bringing me up short.
“Don’t do it, Chloe!” I hear Isaac bellow on the outside before he grunts in pain. “You swore!”
I hesitate. What did I swear?
Oh yeah…
“ Open the door, Chloe ,” Asher commands. “ Now .”
Unable to refuse him, to resist, my fingers find the handle and twist it open.
The night air hits me in the face at once. Sweet. Too sweet…
And though I want to look ahead, I force my eyes down.
Needing one more moment to myself.
To have free will.
Isaac makes a choking, gurgling noise as if he’s in pain and reality comes rushing back in.
My eyes finally see what’s in front of me. There are two sets of shoes. One pair is black, polished, and clean. The other pair is scuffed up with dirt and blood.
Focusing on the scuffed boots, I slowly drag my eyes up until they land on Isaac’s face.
He’s changed. Gone is the young, serious boy I knew in my youth. In that boy’s place is a man. A man with a strong square jaw and blue eyes that are screaming at me in terror and rage.
I’m sure he’d have a lot more to say if there wasn’t a hand locked tight around his throat, strangling the life from him.
Words almost fail me. The force of Asher’s pull attempting to strip them away.
But, somehow, I manage to croak out, “I’m not breaking what I swore to you. I’m not inviting him in.”
I sense Asher stiffen and my attention snaps to him.
When our eyes meet it feels like worlds collide.
My soul is rocked from the impact, and my body thrums, all the atoms of being stirring.
He’s just as beautiful as I remember.
So beautiful it’s soul-crushing.
Drawn forward, I take the first step over the threshold.
Green eyes widening ever so slightly in anticipation, I watch them fill up with a hunger, an intensity that steals all my breath from me.
Becoming aware that I’m only prolonging my suffering, our suffering, I take the next step and give myself over to destiny.