I won’t be able to go inside.
I will be a Blood Raven.
I will be the enemy.
I am afraid.
I am resolute, I think.
Being loved with the devotion of immortality is like a drug. I am addicted. Bash worships at my altar like a man who has been starving for centuries.
I am ready, I think.
The possibility of forever is a path into the unknown, and I will not be afraid.
Friday.
This is the day. I will not be afraid.
Tonight, when the sun slides beneath the horizon, I will stand in front of some of the most powerful vampires in existence—not as prey.
Not as a lamb.
I will not go to slaughter.
I will become a lion.
Bash is my now, but he is also my future.
Walking into my childhood home, I inhale the comforting smell of spices and Grand-mere. I walk slowly through the house, touching everything. Remembering Saturday mornings on the old comfy couch, curled up, reading a book. Dinnerswith friends and neighbors gathered around the dining table, good food being shared by everyone. The worn cupboards in the kitchen, the weathered boards on the back porch. I watch a memory in my mind, a little girl running barefoot through the grass, being sprayed by the garden sprinkler. This is the place where my past lives.
I wipe away the tears and go into my bedroom. The room that was all mine, my entire life. I sit on the edge of the small twin bed and take in the creaking floorboards, the small vanity, and bookshelf. The mementos of my life before, pictures of school friends, trinkets, and drawings. My entire life in one small room. I lie back and stare at the ceiling that I looked at almost every night for 28 years. I let the tears run down my cheeks and land on the pillow that is no longer mine.
Walking through the streets that were my life, the path I walked every day to school, fills my chest with joy and heartbreak simultaneously. Taking off my shoes and walking barefoot in the grass of the park, laying down to feel the sun burn my cheeks, I appreciate the work that went into ensuring that my life was full and happy despite how desperate our lives have been. I watch a few clouds move slowly across the sky, unconcerned with the matters of humans. I imagine they are animals and balloons and toys, like I did as a child.
Knowing it’s time to head back into the Quarter, I decide to have a meal in a little restaurant with a balcony, where I can watch the people mill around and go about their lives in the only way they know how.
I walk slowly on the sidewalk, savoring the warm sun on my face, people walking past me. I hear someone come up to me, a hand lightly brushing my shoulder.
And everything goes black.
There is something over my head, something heavy…
I can’t see.
I can’t breathe.
Sound is warped in my ears.
I flail my arms around and hit the bodies standing close to me.
Who would attack me? What’s going on?
A sting in my neck disrupts my panic. For just a second.
Then.
Nothing.
