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My dress is torn, exposing parts of me that I wish were not on display. As I get off the table, I grab the torn pieces and try to tie a couple of them together quickly to limit the vulnerable feeling that has taken over me.
Once I do, I look up to see the most beautiful set of eyes looking back at me. They are blue with specks of brown in them. Enchanting.
His face is decorated with black ink, like a skeleton. The black bits around his eyes, nose and temples are all shaded, leaving the rest of his skin exposed. His mouth has black lining on and around it. As I continue to examine him, I know he won’t hurt me. The trust is instant and unspoken. His energy speaks to mine, which is enough for me.
Elijah reaches out his free hand, and I take it. Instantly, my body buzzes as if it weren’t alive until now. A fresh wave of energy ignites inside of me. I feel connected to him in ways I have never felt before towards another person.
Looking at his other hand, the bat is now hanging in his grip, the wood has a slight chip in it and is stained red. My eyes move back to my father, and the followers who were up until recently were touching me, but I didn't say anything. I refuse to give them any more of me, they do not deserve it.
“Little bat, we can go now. They won’t hurt you,” Elijah coaxes me, and his thumb rubs the top of my hand. I nod in response, refocusing on him.
“Follow us, and you’re dead. Try to find us, dead…” My father interjects, “We get it. Your childish games and antics will catch up to you. The Dark One rules within you as much as it does me.”
“No one rules me, but me. I humor you. Remember that.”
Elijah starts to walk away, pulling on my hand and bringing him with me. We don’t make it far before I hear someone rushing behind me. It all flashes before me quickly. Elijah, without letting go of me, maneuvers himself so he is now in front of me. His arm, along with the bat, is in the air before it comes down with full force, connecting with the person’s head.
You can hear the impact, gasps of shock fill the area.
“Your family will be dead before you get home tonight. I will make sure you find them.”
The person on the ground hasn’t moved. Unsure if they are dead or alive, Elijah turns and continues walking us out. The followers part for us, clearing a path to the exit. As we walk through the long hallways, neither of us speaks. A part of me is unsure if this is real or if I have become delusional. Either way, I will take it.
A black car is parked at the entrance, engine still on.
Elijah walks me to the passenger side and opens the door for me. I get in and he closes the door behind me. I do up my seatbelt and curl into myself on the seat as he gets in. As we begin to pull out of the area, it’s dark and hard to tell where we are. Both of us stay quiet as we make our way down the backroads, the only thing lighting the area are his headlights. Then unexpectedly, his hand grips my knee and says, “Little bat, you are mine now.”
Chapter 10
Elijah
My home is located outside of Blackwood, surrounded by thick woods for privacy. My dad, who still doesn’t get why I haven’t come back to Colorado yet, comes from money, therefore, I come from money. I’ve not returned because I know I will end up there soon enough. This is my last taste of absolute freedom before then.
My place isn’t anything massive. A three thousand square feet, single-story bungalow on four acres of land is a fortress with a state-of-the-art security system throughout the property, inside and out. If any motherfucker tries to come up uninvited, they won’t be around to tell the tale of what happened. The town knows not to bother me; they know what I do for The Chapel and the last time a cop got involved, his name was given next. That shit was not a coincidence.
It was that moment when I truly knew my stepfather was full of absolute shit, along with his delusional followers. Anything to justify what they do. I collected the names regardless, and on La Notte del Diavolo, devil’s night, I killed them.
Killing doesn’t bother me along with most things in life. I have been told my emotions aren’t human, or the lack thereof. I know what I want and what I like, and I will do anything to get to it once I have my mind set. Some say it is hyper-fixation, I call it passion and determination. And that is what Rain is. My passion and determination. And now I have her. She is home. She is fucking mine.
We haven’t spoken since getting here. Once arriving, I lead her to my bathroom, where I leave her to shower and change. I stay in the bedroom, on the floor with my back against the closed bedroom door, unable to leave her side. She comes out of the bathroom in a pair of my sweats and a sweater, which are baggy and hanging on her petite frame. Rain’s dark hair is still damp, with her eyes puffy and face blotchy. My eyes examine her, trying to sort out what is wrong. Rain’s eyes glisten as she looks back at me, but they also seem vacant. Why is she sad? She’s home. I rack my brain trying to figure out what is happening. The only conclusion I have is that I don't like when she’s feeling this way.
No words are spoken even then.
Instead, she makes the first move, walking over to the bed and gets herself under the covers. Within minutes, her breathing is heavier.
Rain is still asleep, and I haven’t left this spot in the room since. Listening to her inhale and exhale is relaxing. Her presence soothes me. I noticed that when I sat in the bar she worked at. It’s something I haven’t felt before, peace.
Looking at my phone, it’s been nearly eight hours. The sun has risen, and some of it tries to creep through the blinds to light the room. I’m not tired, I could sit here forever, listening to her and protecting her.
The bedsheets move, catching my attention. Rain’s tired voice follows, “How long have you been sitting there?”
“Since you went for your shower.”
She doesn’t respond right away. Moments have passed before her next words come out, “Why?”
“It’s my job to protect you, to make sure you’re always safe.” I respond, confused by her question. How could she not understand that mine means mine in all ways, and I take care of what is mine.
Rain sits up to look at me, her hair is disheveled, but her face looks rested, “Then it’s my job to take care of you. You need your rest too if you are going to be my savior.”
