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“Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!”
Bram Stoker
Five Years Ago
The moon hidbehind the dark clouds, enveloping the forest in the shadows of the night, hiding the monsters lurking in the dark corners, waiting, observing, their teeth clenching from the deep thirst living inside their souls, craving the blood of the innocent ones.
The wind picked up, dancing around the trees, caressing the fallen leaves on the ground, stirring up trouble in the very core of my being. I could see the crimson dripping down my hands, the contrast it created against my pale skin, fascinated by the patterns it left behind as it dripped and dripped and dripped, covering the yellow leaves on the ground. The lifeless eyes of a girl I once loved stared back at me, the blue in them paling away, replaced by the white hue taking over—yet I couldn’t move.
I didn’t want to move away, to miss this moment.
Her once perfect pale skin was marred by the dirt when she tumbled to the ground, the streaks of blood seeping from her scalp, creating little crimson valleys through the dark dirt. Mikaela was like the rarest orchid—too pretty to touch, too cold to look at, and nothing has changed even in her death.
Still the untouchable ice queen, ruling over Winworth High, but not anymore. Now she would have to stay here with me. She would have to love me just how I loved her.
This life wasn’t enough to express the yearning, the need coiling in my gut as I fell down on my knees, pulling her cold hand into my lap.
“My Mikaela.” My voice broke through the silence of the night as I pressed my cheek to her palm, closing my eyes at the feel of her velvety skin against mine. “Forever mine.”
She told me she could never love me.
She told me she was leaving me.
Well, she wasn’t leaving anymore. She couldn’t leave me. No one could leave me.
A wolf howled in the night, far from us but loud enough for me to hear him even here, at the entrance to the forest. I couldn’t wait until we went further in to tell her how much I loved her, how much I needed her to stay with me.
She was mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Mikaela couldn’t understand. None of them understood my love, but I showed her. I held her close even when she bit down on my lower lip, pressing her hands to my chest just how she used to.
Before… Before I showed her my collection. But I wanted her to know. I wanted her to have it.
I was collecting it for her, for our future, for everything we were supposed to be.
“I love you, Mikaela.” I smiled, opening my eyes, and looking down at her. “Forever. It’s going to forever be only the two of us.”
But she never smiled back. She just kept staring at me, judging me, just like that day when she told me I was sick. That I was a psychopath. But I wasn’t sick. My mom told me I was perfectly fine. Mikaela just couldn’t understand.
None of them understood.
A rustling behind me brought me back from my reverie. As I turned around, I saw the last person I wanted to see there. Once dark hair was now streaked with silver, and the judgment I saw so many times in his eyes was evident on his face.
“What have you done, Lazarus?” my father asked. Daniel Morass was a prominent member of our society, our family, one of the first families of this town, and I knew he wanted more from me. But Morass Asylum was his dream, his baby, not mine.
I wanted more. So much more, but he couldn’t understand that.
“What the fuck have you done?” he roared, walking toward us as if he had any right to do so.
They don’t understand, baby. They don’t understand us,my mom used to say, and she was right.
Pure fury brimmed on the surface of my father’s skin, and I covered Mikaela’s body with my own. “No!” I bellowed, holding her close to me. “She’s mine. You can’t take her.”
