When I bring my hand to Jasik’s face, I stop. I pull my arm away, afraid I might lose all sense and touch him. Everything about him is perfect—from his devotion to me to his fierce protectiveness. Sometimes, when I am around him, it is almost too hard to look at him. My hands get clammy, my mind fuzzy, and my chest hurts.
Sometimes I catch him looking at me when he thinks I am not aware. It is the way he regards me in those moments. My heart stops, and I want to die.
I am never afraid when I am with him. Even now, as he sleeps, I know I am safe. But that still has not steadied my heart. It races in my chest, hammering so hard against my rib cage I worry it will break free.
Something catches my eye, and I tear my gaze from the vampire beside me. A shadow moves across the strip of light penetrating the room, and I freeze. I do not move again until my chest burns. Only then do I release my breath and take the final steps to the window.
But I do not dare a peek. I refuse to look outside, to see what awaits in the forest that surrounds the manor. With a shaking hand and weak arm, I reach forward. I tuck the curtain around the bend in the windowsill, pulling it tightly so that the sunlight is completely blocked.
Only when I hear his screams do I realize I did not take enough care to enclose my bedroom in darkness.
I blink several times, awakening from my trance. I shield my eyes, the sunlight burning too brightly against my weakened senses.
My bedroom is engulfed in sunlight, and my bed is immersed in flames. Mesmerized by the fire, I am stunned silent, only regaining my control over my voice when it is too late to save him.
From where he lies on my bed, cast aflame in a fiery rage, Jasik bellows, the agony in his voice like a knife to the gut. His pain encompasses me, cocooning me in its clutch, and his screams penetrate straight to my heart. The accusation of his words wraps around me, looping over and over again, and I know I will never be free of it.
I hear nothing else. His scream falls silent, his pain extinguished, and I am showered in ash. But the fire looms, growing brighter by the second as it spreads to the hardwood floor.
The floorboards feel like molten lava against my bare feet. I look at my arms, where Jasik’s ashes mix with my sweat. I swirl the mixture together, frowning at the mess I have created.
Someone is banging at my bedroom door. I hear voices, but I do not bother responding. I do not even look their way.
The air is thick with smoke, and I choke on my breath, sucking in sharp gasps as my chest heaves, my body begging for oxygen. My eyelids are heavy, and my limbs are shaking.
But I do not move. Even though I know my senses should be rapid firing, screaming at me to escape, I do not listen to them.
Because all I can hear is Jasik’s voice in my head. His cry is like twine, and it threads around me, trapping me in this place, in this time.
Frozen.
Hollow.
Dead.
What have you done?
That evening, as I get ready for another long night of reading stacks of books that can tell me nothing about my condition, I do not look at Jasik. I fear if I do, he will see the guilt etched across my face. It is in the way I look at him, the way I touch him, the way I say his name. I cannot avoid it, and the more time we spend together, the better Jasik becomes at reading my inner thoughts, as if I speak them aloud.
I know I was having another nightmare last night. If I was not, Jasik would be dead right now—killed by my hand. I shiver at the thought, still letting it invade my innermost consciousness. The images lash out at me, and I flinch, allowing my visions to stain my mind in red.
I need to get better at controlling my emotions. The worst part of my transition—from witch to hybrid and hybrid to human—has been my inability to remain calm, lucid in all situations. Every little thing irks me, as though I am some ticking time bomb waiting to burst. And if it does not anger me, it hurts me. There is never an in-between. Either I am mad or sad, but regardless of my emotions, I am slowly drifting into madness.
I try not to agonize over Jasik’s fake death, but the fact that my unconscious self unwittingly sacrificed my sire has left heaviness in my soul. And it smothers me. I carry that presence with me, hoping I can veil my inner thoughts as well as I have been hiding the toll a life without magic has had on my mind and body.
Spring is a few short weeks away now, but it is hard to tell based on the color of our surroundings. The world is dusted in snow, but slowly, the morning sun melts everything.
One of the perks of living in Darkhaven is the change of seasons. Winter is cold and snowy. Spring is rainy and warm. Summer is hot and humid. Autumn is colorful and cool. It is no wonder my ancestors settled here. Darkhaven is absolutely an elemental witch’s dream. Everywhere I look, there is something nearby to use when invoking the elements. That is, if I still could.
There is a chill in the air—one that only I can feel. The vampires are immune to the hindrance of the elements, whereas I now wither in them. Everything is either too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry. I am never at peace—not with the icy air blowing over Darkhaven, not with the silent moon, not with the rays of sunshine I attempt to soak up with Holland, not with my decision to oust myself from the magical kingdom I was born into.
I did what I had to do, but is the cost too much to bear?
I tug on the hem of my sweater. I must do this often, mindlessly so, because threads are beginning to come loose where my fingers pick at the fabric. I gnaw on my lip, thinking about my wardrobe.
When I was a hybrid, I did not have to worry about exposure to the elements. Now, that is all I think about—and not just from the elements. My skin. I worry my secrets will not remain hidden for long.
When the weather warms, I will not be able to hide behind the many layers of clothing covering me now. I blame being bundled up all the time on the frosty air, and the vampires believe me, even when Holland lounges in a thin T-shirt. The vampires trust me, believing, after everything we have been through, I would not hide anything from them.
But I do.
Not out of fear or shame. I just…do. I cannot help it. Whenever I think about admitting the severity of my situation, something stops me. I do not know what it is, but it is always with me, waiting, lurking, watching as I succumb to the silence. I have never before felt as lonely as I feel now.
I do not tell Jasik or Holland how loud the darkness has become. I do not admit to my nightmares, even when I wake screaming and Jasik has to hold me close in order to steady my overworked heart. I do not tell him what happens in my dreams, even though I can see the fear in his eyes when he wakes me. He knows something is amiss. He knows my nightmares are becoming far too real for me. Still, I do not admit how close I am to the edge of the abyss, even when Jasik whispers into my ear that he will always keep me safe.
One night, when Jasik thought I was sleeping, he told me he would sacrifice his own life if that is what it took to keep me safe. I believed him. He has always been loyal and honorable in that way. Nightly, he risks death to protect the manor, so I have no doubt he will offer everything he has to save me, for I am his first. I am the only one he offered immortality to, and as I am sired to him, I did not have the courage to tell him it will come to that. Soon, the darkness in me will take control, and it will be him or me. I just hope he makes the right choice, for evil can wear the mask of a girl.
I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I do not look the same anymore. My irises are a dirty dark brown, murky and cloudy in color. I am pale, my eyes are sunken, and my skin is taut and dry. My cheekbones are more pronounced, and I feel every rib when I hold myself at night.