66. Start Living

Laura - The house in the suburbs
Beatrice lies on her bed, unable to get up. Her weak hands lie on the blanket, her lovely gaze locked on me.
I kneel by the side of the bed and touch her cheek gently, feeling a coldness.
I don't know whether it's a dream, a memory, or both, but I want to see her face again; I don't want to let go.
“I can’t go if you don’t find peace of mind, Laura. I’ve always been here for you. But now love is right around the corner. Let it in, or I can’t move on.”
I take her hand and give her a sad smile. “Then I’ll never find love if that means you’ll always be with me.”
“For everything, there’s a time,” she starts with a shallow voice. “Now is the time for me to die and for you to start living.”
Her soft words always had the gift of making everything better.
A strange sound makes me turn my head to the window. A bright light sweeps over everything, and Beatrice disappears.
I wake from my dream to some noises from the window. Something keeps poking at the glass, like hard and long nails tapping over a surface. It's windy, and rain pours down from the sky.
I look around, confused. Yes, last night I came home with Paul. Ha! I can’t believe I just called this house ‘home.’ I stare at the dark curtains, listening to the sound of the rain outside.
Tilting my head to the side, I catch a glimpse of him, the silk bedding covering him to his navel. His breathing sounds deep as he sleeps. How could anyone sleep so peacefully?
His upper half visible above the thin cloth catches my interest, and I gulp. Every inch of his body screams, "I'm a sexy motherfucker." His charm irks me.
The piercing gray eyes open and look straight at me. My body vibrates with need whenever he's near. I have the will to disregard it.
Or so I thought. He stretches, and his muscles are begging for my attention.
He gives me a light kiss. Everything feels hot and sensual, yet there is a feeling of calm within that wasn't there before.
As his hand caresses my hair, I realize how badly I want this man.
“Laura, I’ve been thinking about what the witch said; the whole fated mates part. It means you were a wolf before being turned into a strigoi. If you aren’t aware of that, it may be because your wolf hadn’t awakened until then. Your parents haven't told you anything about wolves?”
"I was adopted," I say, turning around and staring at the ceiling. "I don't know who my true parents were, and I haven't searched for them. It doesn't matter whether they were wolves or not. Not anymore."
"It is possible that if you were a light entity, your mind-reading skill might be light power. As a strigoi, you can read other strigois' minds, so this makes sense. Did you have this ability before you turned?"
“No.”
“Then maybe you've triggered it when you were in distress, when you—”
“When I died,” I interrupt him as I sense it’s hard for him to admit the truth about me. “When will you stop avoiding the facts? You don’t know me.”
“I already know everything so well. Like the way you start panting as soon as I touch you, how your face flushes whenever I enter you, and every little quiver throughout your body that you can’t control. But there's one thing I don't know, and I need to.” He lightly caresses my cheek. “I want to know what I am to you. Because you know what, Laura? You’re my dream. It’s been that way ever since I first saw you.”
I shiver under his finger as it traces a line across my jaw and down my neck. Something like electricity flows between us as his eyes lock on mine. His heat is enticing.
My skin is so sensitive under his touch, and I can’t move. I've been called many things, including monster, demon, and abomination. But never once did someone refer to me as his dream.
I refuse to take confidence in Paul's declaration. As long as I'm alive, I'll remain an abomination.
I know he's the only one who can eventually understand me. But the depth of my feelings would utterly shatter him since he is just too sensitive. I have to restrain myself so that I don't break him. I can’t give in.
"My life is messed up. My heart and mind are in disarray. Even though I'm broken, I want to be broken. I don't need someone attempting to fix me. There is no point in rushing into anything just to see if I can get a quick fix. I don’t need you, and I don’t want you."
If I try to draw a line between Paul and me, the world goes dark, and I can't breathe. Although I know I don't need to breathe, the sensation is still excruciating.
I remain calm on the bed and watch Paul get up and put on his clothes. Once he’s done and his suit is perfectly buttoned, he turns to me.
“I won’t bother you anymore. You can continue living in this house for as long as you want.” His heart beats fast. “I love you, Laura.”
The sound of the door shutting behind him hurts my ears. I'm used to dealing with suffering, but I had no idea something could inflict such agony.
I can't do anything but lie here as the tears roll down my cheeks. This time, I won't shut down my emotions. I have to accept that I'm suffering and let myself feel.
Hours pass like this. Shaking off this dreadful feeling is the only thing I have left to do. I put on a robe and pick up a book at random before going out to the backyard patio.
As I stand outside looking at the gray sky, I wonder what is in store for me. Light abounds, yet I can see nothing except the darkness.
The fresh air soothes me. I’ve always liked rainy and windy weather.
I open the book and read aloud the quote on the first page.
“Stay on the edge of the abyss, survey the scene for longer than is tolerable, understand the precise contours of your feelings, the exact distance of their depth, the way the ground pushes against the bottom of your feet. Live!”
I close my eyes and the book. Beatrice’s face lingers beneath my closed eyelids. The wind brings back her voice, “Start living. Find love.”
My fingertips brush over the hard cover. I wish real life were a book. I doubt any character would be as stupid as me.
The wind blows harder. I look up to see clouds swirling overhead, twisting, turning, and moving in every direction. It seems they will never stop. My heartache will never stop if I don't take a risk and start living.
I rush inside the house and slide open my phone. After dialing Paul’s number, an apathetic female voice announces, “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please try again later.”
I have to tell him my feelings now, while I feel strong enough. The yearning eats up any sense of rationality as I quickly get dressed. I run outside in the rain. Otherwise, the things I have to say will disappear into the void because they will never reach him.