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“Cloe-”
“I’m not going to tell anyone about any of this. I just can’t deal with being here, Christofer,” she said slowly, clearly struggling not to lose what little control she had left.
He thought about lying to her, telling her that everything would be okay and that this wasn’t really a big deal, but he couldn’t lie to her. It killed him to see a strong woman like Cloe breaking down like this, but if it helped him explain to her why it was so important for her to stay here then he was going to be blunt with her and pretend that it didn’t kill him to be the one to destroy her last shred of hope.
“If you leave right now, Cloe, you will kill someone before the night is over,” he explained softly, praying that his tone was enough to soften the blow. Judging by the way that she’d flinched as though he’d struck her along with the absolute look of horror on her face, he realized there was nothing that he could say or do that would make this easier.
So he stopped trying.
“I would never-” she started to protest with a determined shake of her head, but he didn’t allow her to finish, knowing that the words would come back to haunt her one day.
“Yes, you would,” he said firmly, reaching out and taking one of her trembling hands into both of his. “You think that you can control this, that you can control what you are, but the truth of the matter is, Cloe, that right now you pose a danger to every man, woman and child that makes the mistake of crossing your path.”
“You don’t know that,” she bit out tightly even as her stomach rumbled viciously as if to give credence to his words.
“Yes,” he said, looking up and meeting her terrified gaze, “I do.”
*-*-*-*
“I would never hurt anyone,” Cloe said weakly as the truth of his words sank in.
But that’s not why she was starting to believe him.
The reason that she was starting to believe everything that he was telling her was quite simple. The tenuous grip that she had on her self-control was quickly slipping away with every passing second. If she didn’t get away from him or figure out another way to get through this, any other way, she wasn’t going to be able to ignore Christofer’s scent for much longer and that would destroy her last hope that she wasn’t really a monster.
She refused to accept this.
She didn’t want to be like this, didn’t want to crave something so wrong and she sure as hell didn’t want to worry about losing control and-
“I can help you, Cloe,” Christofer said, cutting into her panicked thoughts before they could take her to a place where she had no hope of escape. “I can help you get through this, learn to live with the changes. I can show you how to stay in control, but I can’t help you unless you let me.”
She released a mortifying sniffle as she forced herself to focus on the way that his hands gently held hers. She refused to meet his gaze, terrified that he’d see just how afraid she really was.
“You’re the one that did this to me,” she lamely pointed out, struggling to hold onto the last strands of her humanity even though she already knew that it was a losing battle.
He gave her hand a small squeeze, but it was enough to make her look up and meet his determined gaze. “And if you give me a chance, I’ll be the one to fix this.”
Terrified of what she would become without his help, she reluctantly nodded. “Just don’t let me turn into a monster,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze head on.
“I’ll do my best,” he said, giving her hand another gentle squeeze that was probably meant to be reassuring and surprisingly, it was.
*-*-*-*
Christofer sighed heavily.
He couldn’t help it.
“That’s not going to work,” he pointed out, but she refused to listen to him.
With a mutinous glare aimed in his direction, Cloe picked up the piece of toast slathered in peanut butter and strawberry jelly and took a huge bite out of it. After a few seconds of chewing, her glare shifted to shock, disbelief and finally disgust as she turned around, grabbed the trashcan with both hands and spit out every last crumb. When she was done, she turned on the sink, cupped her hands in the water and proceeded to rinse her mouth out while he stood there, sighing heavily as he wondered just how much longer it would be before she finally listened to him.
“You need blood, Cloe,” he said for what was probably the hundredth time since he’d decided to try and fix the f**k up that the others had created.
“I want to see if this works first,” she stubbornly argued as she pushed the offending plate of toast away and with the same look of determination that had accompanied every single “test” as Cloe liked to call them, she grabbed the box of wheat crackers that she’d found in the cabinets, opened a sleeve of crackers, grabbed a small stack and shoved them into her mouth until it became obvious that this test had failed as well and she was reaching for the trashcan.
“Stop doing this to yourself,” he said, his exasperation clear as he watched her go through the process of rinsing out her mouth before that look of determination returned and she forced herself to reach for a can of beef stew.
“No one told you that you had to watch,” she said, keeping her focus on the small can as she grabbed a can opener and removed the lid. Cloe cringed when the aroma of cold, chemically preserved beef hit her, causing her to gag a little, but it apparently wasn’t enough to make her give up this asinine plan of hers. He watched as she went through the process once again, this time pausing to rinse her mouth out twice as long to get rid of the taste of chemically preserved beef from her mouth.
“Are you about done yet?” he asked, noting that she was quickly running out of food to test.
Looking determined, she picked up a can of tuna fish and nibbled on her bottom lip as he watched her try to force herself to go through with the next test. Reluctantly, and a with a cringe, she picked up the can opener, secured it to the can and with a muttered curse, dropped the can and the can opener on the kitchen island and finally said, “Fine, we’ll try it your way.”
Making damn sure to hide his triumphant smile, he went to the refrigerator and grabbed two bags of blood. As he closed the refrigerator door, he contemplated heating up the blood, but then he decided against it since the heat had a tendency of making the rusty smell worse. He did however grab two coffee cups, hoping that by placing it in something normal like a cup that it would help Cloe pretend that she wasn’t drinking blood.
