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“Peter, that's enough.”
Through the haze that has taken on a brilliant white tint, I hear the words and feel her warm touch. I release her wrist, nearly throwing her back on the bed.
“God, Peter. That wasn't very nice.” She gets up, going to the sink in the bathroom and turning the water on. She shakes as she rinses her wrist off. The water is pink as it swirls down the drain.
I give her the only words I have. “I am sorry.”
“It's okay. It's not your fault.”
“Let me take care of it.” I pull out the medicine kit from above the mirror. “Sit down.” She crumples to the edge of the tub, shivering, even thought the night is warm.
“I keep forgetting what it's like,” she says as she holds her wrist above her head to stop the bleeding.
“What is it like, for you?” I am curious.
“Well, it isn't fun, but I'd rather give it to you than not. It's just something we have to go through. Some couples disagree about whether they like Thai food or not. We have this.” She points to her wrist, which has two semi-circular imprints of my teeth. I slather it in antibiotic ointment, fighting the urge to lick off the excess blood. I wrap it up and then put the wrist cuff back on.
“Better,” she says.
“Good.”
“I am truly sorry. I did not wish to hurt you.” She closes her eyes.
“It's fine.” It is not fine.
“You can tell me.”
“I don't know. I just wish there was a way we could be normal. Not that you were normal, because I love the way you are.” She licks her lips. “But for your sake, I wish you could be normal. If that makes any sense. I just wish you could experience the things you can't. God, that sounds terrible.”
“It doesn't.” I understand what she wants. I want it as well. What I used to want, before Ava, was to end my existence. I would still be content with that, if it were to happen. But I also have another wish. That I could go to school with her, holding hands. I wish we could go to the local eatery and I could share a pizza with her. I wish I could experience earth-shattering cheesecake. I want to be human with her.
“I used to think what I wanted was to end my existence.”
She shakes her head. “Don't say things like that. I don't like hearing them anymore.”
“That is not what I want anymore. I wish I could be human with you.”
“Me too.” I'm still crouched in front of her. She reaches out and pulls my head to her chest. It is a brave thing to do. I still have the taste of her blood on my tongue. I lick my lips, trying to get some of the residue.
“But you can't have what you want,” She says into my hair. I put my ear to her heart.
“I have what I want. This.”
“This is nice.” We stay like that for a while, even though she's trembling.
“May I get you something?”
“Maybe some pizza from the fridge?” We both hear her stomach growl in protest from the blood-taking.
“I will be right back.”
Her parents are awake downstairs in their bedroom, but it is a simple matter to go to the kitchen and retrieve the pizza, a plate and a paper towel. I stop for a moment to listen to them.
“Sam, you have to stop pretending. This is happening, and just because you don't want it to isn't going to make a difference.”
“I know.”
“We'll see each other again,” she whispers. I hear them kissing.
“Why Taylor, have you gotten religious on me?” She laughs and he tumbles her around.
“Maybe. It's something to think about. That my soul will live on somewhere.”
“If anyone's soul deserves it, it's yours.” They resume kissing and I go back upstairs. I'd snagged a can of ginger ale as well. I'd heard Ava's mother say once that it was good for an upset stomach.
Ava is back in bed, covers pulled up.
“Did you want it warmed up?”
“No, this is fine.” She takes the pizza and munches on it. “How are you feeling?”
“Satiated.” It's what I always tell her afterward.
“Happy?”
“Yes.” No one has ever asked me if I was happy. I never was, so it didn't matter. I smile.
“Almost normal,” she says.
Chapter Eight
Ava
Peter stays in my bed again, so I guess you could say that we slept together, even though he doesn't technically sleep. I'd broken one of Dad's rules just hours after promising not to. Go me. Still, it was nice to wake up in the morning see him there, still reading.
“Did you sleep well?” Not really. I had the stupid burning dream again. I need to ask Tex about that book. I wonder if there's anything in there about getting rid of dreams. If that's possible.
“Yeah.” I think he can tell when I'm lying, but he knows I have a good reason, or he just doesn't care and lets it go. I love that about him. It's insane that I can let him literally suck the life out of me, and love him while he's doing it. But in a way, all relationships do that. They take from you.
My wrist hurts like hell, as if someone's been sawing through it. Well, not really sawing. More like chewing. Ew. It wasn't like that. If you didn't know what he was doing, you'd think he was kissing my wrist. Just a hickey. Only with teeth.
The blood is a small price to pay for all that I get from him. He may not be able to love me, but he can do a whole lot of other things. I've experienced more love from Peter, even if he doesn't call it that, than most people get. I'm lucky, honestly.
“I must go.” He's doing that distance-gazing thing, as if he's reaching for something he can't have. Peter may not be able to smile, but he does longing really well. “Viktor is waiting for me.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“What?” Peter points out the window. Slowly I get to my feet and peer out the curtain. Oh hey, Viktor's down there. I wave to him. He doesn't wave back.
“I'll miss you,” I say, looking down at my wrist, at the mark he'd left on me.
Something makes me look up. He's smiling. It's a good one, too. It splits his face and makes these dimples appear around his lips and really, really makes me want to kiss him. Like, throw myself on him and kiss him and have him kiss me back and put his hands...
I shake my head. His smile fades.
“How was that?”
Perfect.
“Good. Keep working on it.” I feel like I should give him a cookie or something for making such a good smile.
“What happens after I conquer the smile?”
