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22
MALIK
The sharp, bare branches of the pine trees scrape along my window. I can't sleep, and I've tried. I've closed my eyes, turned on the music, turned off the music.
Nothing works.
Usually, the sound of the rain instantly puts me into a dead sleep. But not tonight.
I can't get her out of my head.
The pure terror on her face as she watched me close the door on her. The horror of what I was about to do to her. Leave her trapped, secluded, alone.
There are only a few hours left until sunrise. I should wait. I should wait until moments before the sun crests over the trees and grab her, but my body doesn't listen.
I slide out of bed, still clothed in my outfit from last night. I pass my dresser with my keys on it, grabbing the collar of my leather jacket by the door and walking out of my room. The lights are off throughout the house, leaving the hallway almost completely blackened, save for a few old-school lights on the walls in the hallway. They look like ancient lanterns, and their glow is just as dim, yellow, warm, but cold at the same time.
My feet pad silently down the stairs and slip into my black boots sitting in front of the door as I make my way outside.
The rain has stopped for good this time. Looking up, I can see the stars in the sky, seeming so much farther away than anywhere else in the world. I can't make out any constellations, only miniature dots in the sky. Too far away. So, so far away.
There's a chill in the air, and I slip my arms into my leather jacket, running my hands through my still damp hair as I walk through the backyard and into the woods. I can't imagine how cold it must be in the mausoleum.
She deserves it.
She's a siren. A witch for making something stir in me that's never been disturbed before. She makes my rage untamed. She turns my lust into a fiery ball, completely inextinguishable. No amount of rain in this place can drown the rage inside me.
Vera keeps the fire burning.
I snarl, stomping through the sticks and pine needles in the forest, the twigs snapping beneath my heavy leather boots. I ignore the other sounds, the whispers, the laughter, the glowing lights that flicker in the woods. I ignore it all, keeping my focus on the cemetery up ahead.
I don’t let the dead scare me. They can try and intimidate me while I walk through the woods. I can feel the cool brush of wind graze across my skin. I know they walk next to me, even though I can’t see them. I don’t wish to see them. I know they’re there. Having them appear before me wouldn’t change my mind.
I know the dead walk through Castle Pointe. I don’t know why, and I don’t care to.
Maybe Castle Pointe is purgatory, and that’s why there is always death surrounding me.
I shake my head clear once the mausoleum comes into view, and make a sharp left to the creepy, abandoned stone structure. It's silent, dark, but stands out in the eerie cemetery.
Slowing my steps, the rocks pop and roll beneath my boots as I come to a stop. I expect to hear her screams. I expect to hear painful pounding and pleas to escape. But I don’t.
No sound. Nothing.
I walk up the stone steps, the gray cement decayed and crumbling to pieces from centuries of neglect. As expected, the door is opened a crack. Only a hair, and for a second, I wonder if Vera is inside. It wouldn't surprise me if she somehow found a way out.
My fingers clutch the cold stone, and I pull. It's heavy, and it takes all my strength to pry it open. The little light from the moon casts a glow inside the mausoleum.
And there she is.
My eyes widen, seeing her sprawled out on the ground. Her arms are splayed at her sides, the rope long gone. Nowhere to be seen.
Is she alive?
I step inside, hesitant to be in here at all during the night. I lean forward, pressing my fingers against her neck.
Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump.
Still alive.
