Somehow, it's all a daze; I had made my way home. Leaning against the trellis, I watch the back gate with both anticipation and fear. I should be terrified, huddled up in my room in fetal position. The smell of his scorched flesh still lingers in my nostrils and I shiver as I recall how close he had been. He had lured me there, pretending to be another, taking on the persona of his younger self. My lips had been on his. Yet, it wasn't him, not really. In some crazy mind-twisting sort of way, the boy that I kissed had been its very own person and not that burnt freak that attacked me in the lacrosse field.
I take a step away from the trellis. It is covered in green leaves and flowers but they are of the wrong sort. He had pretended to pick one from this very spot and I had accepted it. By taking it, I had also accepted him and his advances.
His advances…
I run my thumb slowly across my top lip as the memory intensifies in my mind. The recollection carries across my body and becomes physical in nature. I can still feel his arms as they wrapped around me, encircling me, tugging at my waist. They had felt strong, stronger than Jackson's. He had been bold, not just asking for a kiss but taking it. I hadn't stopped him. On the contrary. When he gentle placed his lips on mine, I had welcomed them. I had grabbed a hold of him, pulled him to me, and urged him to continue.
But I should have known something wasn't right, even before I saw, even before he revealed the hideous truth. I am the clever one, not some pathetic easily-tricked school girl. I had never seen him before. I had never seen him speak to anyone else. How had I not connected the obvious dots? Had I not wanted to know?
That must be it. For even now, now that I know, now that I have seen who he truly is, I don't care.
My fingers continue to trace the outer lines of my lips and I close my eyes. I wish that he would come to back me. Here and now. Ghost, hallucination, or monster… it doesn't matter as long as he comes back.
He, the older and charcoaled version of him, had said that I could help him, that I could bring him back. Only I can do this because I'm immune. A bite from a werewolf will not turn me or kill me. It makes me unique. It makes me powerful. It makes me capable. In a way, despite not turning, I am part of his pack. This is where the uncontrollable attraction comes from. This is why I kept seeing him, both his young and older version. We are linked, him and I. Still now, I can feel the need and the craving to be where he is. So, whatever it takes and whatever I need to do, I will do it. For him, for the boy with the pale blue eyes and soft smile, I will do anything.
"I'll bring you back," I promise as I hold up the flower he gave me so that the glow from the full moon light up its petals.