Chapter Twenty-Five
When I woke up, I was holding the knife. The room was dark, but a small lamp cast just enough light for me to be sure that I was not in my bedroom. The walls were made of concrete, as was the floor. Papers were strewn over every surface, and small colored bottles and vials rested on the sole table.
I was standing over the bed where Matthew lay wrapped in a blanket and breathing softly. He shifted in his sleep, and I almost lost my grip on the knife.
His eyes were fluttering, and his breathing became a little faster. He rolled to the other side of the bed.
I grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him onto his back. To my surprise, he did not wake up. I placed the knife against his throat, and pushed the blade hard against his neck. Even in the low light, I could see his skin blanch where I applied pressure, but he still did not waken.
He took in another deep breath.
I grabbed his hair in my hand, and dragged the blade over a place midway between my fist and his scalp. In my hand remained a fistful of his hair, which I dropped to the ground.
The severed blonde locks landed on the floor, the low lamplight making their color more bronze than golden.
Outside the room, the basement lights were on, and I saw the keys hanging from the outside lock. I closed the door quietly, though unsure of why I bothered. After all, even a knife pressed against his throat hadn’t been enough to wake Matthew up.
I walked back upstairs and into the second-floor hallway. I started first toward my room, but then thought better of it. I dropped the butcher knife in the hallway and it landed with a soft thud against the rug.
I went to Vic’s room, finding the door was already open. I threw the keys behind me onto the rug, where they landed with a gentle clink beside the knife.
He was asleep in his bed. Out of an almost superstitious fear that whatever had seized Matthew might have similarly overcome Vic, I took his shoulder in my hand and shook him lightly.
When he didn’t wake up immediately, I switched on the lamp on the bedside table and was met with the sight of Vic’s pale blue eyes, their color piercing through the bleariness of fresh sleep.
“Nadia, what are you doing here?” he asked, quickly slashing the gravel from his voice.
Without a word, I lay down in bed beside him, pressing my back to his warm, broad chest.
He didn’t ask me any more questions, just wrapped his arms around me. I reached out and switched off the lamp.
Within minutes, Vic was asleep again, his arms still comfortingly around me. I leaned into the embrace and felt sleep engulf me once again. I tried to forget the moments earlier with Matthew and the way his senses had been completely unresponsive. I tried also to forget the knowledge that I had made it to the basement with no memory of how or why.