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“Perhaps I should invite Filip and Horris up early… I am afraid what your mother will think if she sees you like this.” William began to wash my hair, gently rinsing the sweat and vomit from the tangled strands.
“I think the company would do us good, can Clementine come as well?” I suggested, feeling the feeble rush of excitement at the thought of the three of them being with us. They advocated for me. I would no doubt feel more comfortable telling them all of my conundrum.
After William bathed me and pulled me from the tub, he helped me into a linen nightgown, braiding my hair down my back. Standing behind me, he watched in the mirror as his hands came over the round curve of my massive stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured for what had to be the hundredth time in the last couple weeks.
“Don’t be.”
“If I’d have known it would do this to you–”
“Don’t you dare. Everything will be set right,” I assured him, craning my neck to kiss him.
William carried me down the stairs–fretting about balance and lack of nutrition–into the kitchen.
I loved our kitchen; soft wood cabinets lined the walls where a metal icebox and wide fireplace broke their pattern. In the middle of the room there was a large island with wrought iron legs adorned with baskets of fruit and vegetables, oil lamps, and copper cookware. On the wall near the doorway was the wash bin for dishes. When we had moved in, there was nothing in this kitchen, which had I not known his secret, would have unnerved me.
He set me at a small table in front of the fireplace, whipping up a dinner of roast chicken with smashed peas, which I hardly touched. Growing more and more dismayed, William sent me to bed, where I nuzzled into him, fighting the urge to tell him about my day. Seeing the worry on his face, I felt it unwise. We both drifted off to sleep.
I woke early the next morning, in the soft gray light, watching as the baby rolled in my womb. My belly changed various shapes and I fought to breathe around the stretches. I was tired, worn from the weight of carrying life, but also from the lack of sustenance. William lay as still as stone, shallow breath in his dreamworld. I rubbed my belly, gently propping myself up, waking him in the process, as I often did with any movement.
“Everything alright?” he asked, sitting up. I smiled, placing my hand on his cheek, caressing my thumb over his angular features.
“Yes, I cannot sleep anymore, I wish to be up.”
“Let me help you, please. You are so frail.” He was standing by my side in the blink of an eye, helping me to my feet. My face pinched, jealous of how agile his movements were compared to my slow and unsteady wobble. We adorned our dressing gowns and headed to the kitchen in the chilly morning air.
William fiddled with the gas stove top to prepare tea and oatmeal while I slumped into the chair.
I pecked at a basket of blueberries on the table, but they turned my stomach. William noticed as I shoved them away.
“Still no appetite?” he asked, anxiety leaching from his features. A pit settled in my stomach, fiddling with the blueberries absentmindedly.
“Not for those,” I said in an off handed tone. Suddenly he was in the chair across from me.
“Then what for, Rose? Tell me–anything–I will get it for you. You look so ill, you need something.” He grabbed my hands from across the table, his touch was not as cold as usual. I sighed, leaning back in the chair.
“I do not know how to describe it,” I trailed off, the memory forming in my mind. William was locked onto me, expectant. I blurted everything; from the smell, to the craving, the visions and my dreams. I told him about how nothing seemed appetizing to me anymore except blood. Anyone’s blood; that woman’s blood.
William’s eyes were wide, a deep emerald as he attempted to prevent them from lightening too much. I looked away from him, flushing red in shame. His hand gripped the table, crushing it in his grasp with a loud crunch.
“William! The table!” I gasped, jumping up to foolishly check his hand for injuries. I understood vampyres weren’t easily damaged, but seeing the destruction first hand was startling. I tried to open his hand but he could not be moved. My fingers brushed his cheek gently, “William…”
His head snapped toward me, eyes brimming with tears.
“You wanted to drink the shop keeper’s blood?” he hedged for clarification, voice steady. I swallowed hard.
“I-I-I do not know exactly what I wanted. It has been happening a lot this whole pregnancy, it has just become stronger now.” I turned away from him and walked toward the pitcher of water on the island, pouring a glass. It certainly did not appear as appetizing as the lady from the store.
“This changes everything.” His chair scraped against the floor. When I turned around, he was gone. As I opened my mouth to ask where he went, the door upstairs slammed shut. My heart took off in a sprint.
“William! What are you doing? What does this change?” I yelled, quickly waddling my round body out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his office. “I know that you are still keeping things from me! You owe me an explanation, I love you but I cannot continue to live in the dark. Please!” I begged, banging on the locked door.
“William!”
The door swung open, his briefcase and cane in hand.
“Where are you going?” I asked. He pulled me into his arms, kissing me long enough for me to melt into him. He let it linger, pulling away slowly and placing his hand on my stomach.
