VIII:
The Temperament of Wild Animals
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I jerked awake in the pitch black, disoriented, lightheaded. Something was clawing at my chest, a dry thirst accompanied by eeriness. It was odd to feel this in my own room, and why was it so dark?
There was a window there. I could have sworn it was there, but now it's gone.
The bed felt different. It wasn't as warm as it usually was when I woke up. The comforter was missing. I must have kicked it off in the middle of the night. No, it's here. I never pulled it back. How did I get into my apartment?
My fingers brushed against the bed; he material was too silky. I pressed down; the padding wasn't as firm.
Nothing about this bed was familiar.
Oh, God. Am I in Jacob's? Please no.
I ascended more into consciousness, becoming aware of my body. My arm felt heavy and a dull pain throbbed to the bone, like I'd slept on it wrong. Then I remembered – I remembered the pain when he bit me, and even more so was the sting that coursed through my arm, like acid was eroding my veins, or a fire had been lit from the inside. It was still there.
His eyes. Oh God, his eyes! Blood red.
Maybe it was all a dream. One big, fat dream. It had to be, right?
He claimed he was a vampire, but vampires didn't exist. I grew up believing that, knowing that, but it went against anything that my eyes had seen.
If it wasn't a dream, then where was I? I could only recall everything fading after he bit me. Had I passed out? And where was I now?
But... more than any of those questions was the more frightening: where was he?
I tried to adjust to the darkness, hoping to find light any where. None. Pitch black.
I held my hand up in front of my face. I couldn't see it. I sat quietly, listening for a miniscule sound that would alert me to someone else in the room. Nothing.
Was he here?
I found the edge of the bed and allowed my feet to dangle over the sides, still hazy from my sleep. My arm ached when I put leaned on it. Between the pain and the North Pole temperatures, I shivered.
My toes pressed onto the cold floor. He took my shoes off, and while thankful, I wished there was a barrier between my skin and the ice. The structure of the room wasn't hard to remember. The door and the end of the bed were parallel. I only had to turn right and walk straight.
I tip-toed through the dark, holding my hands out in front of me. The dress brushed lightly against my bare ankles, another piece of evidence this was reality.
My hand ran along the edge of a smooth wall. I walked further, and nearly came out of my skin when I felt the embossed designs of the door under my fingers. Freedom. I would get out of here!
When I slipped upon the handle and pushed down then up, my heart sank. It was locked. I searched vigorously in the dark for a lock to turn over or push, but found nothing.
I'm not sure which came first; panic or fear.
Perhaps they were the same now and I couldn't tell them apart.
My heart pounded as I thought of how to escape. I rested my hand on the door, that stupid piece of wood. It was the only thing that blocked me from finding a way out of the house. If I could get past it, I could get past anything. I had a chance to escape, I know I did. They said I could block them from getting inside my head. If that was the case then I had an advantage.
The room lit up, evaporating the darkness. I turned. I was not alone. He was there, across the room.
He sat in an antique-looking, Victorian chair next to the piano, his eyes flaming brightly, and his hair erected in all directions. He looked nearly mad, yet calm. His ankle was propped on his knee, his entire body completely still.
I'd always heard and read that someone can look into a person's soul if they were to look long enough. In that moment, I lived the verse. He stared at me as if he were searching, and I briefly wondered if he would find it.
"The door is locked," he said with an obvious tone. "Where were you going to go once you made it out of this room?"
My body went rigid, but I answered, "I would've found a way out."
He cocked an eyebrown and smirked. "That would be interesting to see; a simple girl escaping from a house with a horde of vampires living inside." He rose fluidly and slowly started for me. "If you could achieve that then you deserve freedom, not that it would be rewarded to you."
"Stay away from me." I pushed myself into the door even more, pedaling my feet against the floor as leverage.
"You're safe… for now."
My body jerked at his quick movement. He was by my side in an instant. I moved to the center of the room, farther away from freedom. "Stay away!"
"You need to be examined." He followed.
"No," I said strongly.
"It's vital you're looked at."
"Looked at?" I asked.
"Venom can be harmful, even fatal if you have a reaction to it." He stepped closer.
Reaction? My wrist! "You bit me! I'm not going to turn into one of you am I?" I nearly yelled.
He shushed me, the look on his face was surprise and shock. "Lower your voice. It takes more than a bite to turn a human." He grinned. "If that weren't the case, there'd be no more of you left."
My legs hit the back of the bed.
"Sit," he commanded.
I did what I was asked and sat on the edge, not making myself too comfortable.
He picked up my wrist and ran the tips of his fingers over my veins, searching. He let go, and my wrist to fell. I wasn't quick enough to stop the movement; it felt so heavy and uncontrollable.
I felt heavy and uncontrollable, as if my life were teetering on an uneven platform, hovering above death. It was a ride I couldn't stop. It was a lift hill that was too steep, too scary but too dangerous to leap from. The worst part of it all was I was alone.
Edward grabbed my chin and lifted my eyes to his. He turned my face from side to side then forward again. Satisfied, he let go then touched my neck under my jaw. His fingers were cool and his skin felt stiff, rough. He allowed his head to drop slightly and remained in silence as my pulse throbbed against him.
I released a breath as he pulled away from me. "You appear fine," he said. "If you begin to feel nauseated, lightheaded, numb, or if your chest begins to hurt then it's something that we need to know. If you haven't had signs by now then you should be in decent order."
"Anything else?"
"Yes. You need to eat when you're served meals. That will help reduce the amount of pain you are experiencing and will replenish your health quicker."
"So you can feed more?" I asked.
"You're quick," he said and tapped a finger to his forehead then put his back to me to cross the room. What ever he was messing with clinked and clanked, and when he turned back he had a glass of clear liquid.
"Here," he said, "drink this."
I huffed. There was no telling what it was. "No."
He put my hands around the glass like I was incapable, as if I were a toddler, then said sternly, "Drink it."
His hands lingered on mine momentarily, his touch an awakening if I was by chance still dreaming. He straightened then backed away. I sniffed the contents. Odorless. I was really thirsty. "What is it?" I asked.
"Water."
His face was straight. Perhaps he was telling the truth? He crossed the room, fooling with a trinket on the bookcase, and by my better judgment I put the glass to my lips and took a sip. It wasn't generous by any means, but it wasn't small either. I allowed the liquid to sit in my cheeks for a moment and swished it around. Tasteless.
Water. It had to have been.
I drank the entire glass, but my throat still felt dry and achy. The parched feeling was almost unbearable. I offered the glass to him, secretly wishing that he would pour another glass.
Edward lowered his hand from the shelf while glaring at me. "Put it on the table," he said then pointed to the nightstand.
I rose. "Could I have some more?" My voice was hoarse and groggy.
"No."
I moved my tongue along the roof of my mouth to see if my thirst could wait but my throat flared in response. I swallowed. I knew I would be miserable if I didn't have another glass, and it would only grow with each minute. I wouldn't be able to sleep or concentrate on anything if I felt as if I had cotton balls shoved into my glands. The idea turned my stomach into knots.
"Why not?" I asked. My irritation was obvious.
His chest stiffened in response and he squeezed his eyes shut while his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was putting a cap on an outburst. "Are you going to continuously whine all the time when you don't get your way?"
"I don't see what the big deal is. It's just water. Why can't I have some more? Give me the pitcher, I'll get it myself." I took a step forward with my glass in hand.
"No!" He took a defiant step forward to match mine. "I don't want you touching my things. You'll dirty them."
I stepped back with unsure reason. He was ridiculous.
"If you want water, you have to earn water."
"You can't deny me water!"
"Yes," he glared, "I can."
He turned away from me to keep his ragged, disgruntled faces to himself. My stomach twisted and panged with raw hatred. It seemed like an extreme form of punishment to deny someone something to drink when their thirst was insatiable.
In that moment of his blunt dismissal, he cut the last string of calmness I'd been holding onto. It was a stupid idea, and I was unsure of the outcome, but I was driven by my impulse to act. I felt careless, exhausted, and angry as I made for the metal pitcher on the table. I reached for the handle and readied to tilt the liquid into my glass, but firm, cold fingers clenched around my wrist.
He squeezed.
Hard.
I felt the bones giving to the pressure as he pulled my arm upward and away from my intended target. I had broken and fractured bones when I was younger, but never had I felt the volatile chaos the shift would bring. Time slowed and each second seemed to last twice as long, allowing me an excruciating glance into the change. My vision became blurry as I squinted against the disrupting pain which forced the dull ache I felt before out of my mind. I cried out against the sawing presence that insisted I look at him.
He showed no signs of release as his eyes pierced into mine, collecting my pain and dispersing it heavily onto his features. He scowled at my cries and the force on my wrist tightened. My mind went black and red as the pressure increased and my body froze. My screams turned into silence but my mouth resumed its open state. They were on the verge of cracking. The monstrous grit flared and the glass that I had been holding shattered as it hit the floor.
With a growl and a sneer he pushed me away from him and I fell backwards. I rolled over on my side and collected my wrist with my hand, twisting it in hopes to ease the discomfort still ringing through my bones. The rapping of his shoes were faint but still plugged a disturbance in the relief I felt from being away from him. It was disrupted as he crouched next to me and rested his forearms on his knees.
"You don't get it, do you?" He said with contempt. His voice became low and he spoke slowly. "Don't fuck with me."
I ground my teeth together and took deep, filling breaths through my nose as he rose to step over me. I sat up and placed my wrist into my lap while staring down at the black, silky dress. I softly moved my fingers over the material wanting to become lost in the feeling, wanting to drown my misfortune in the blackness, wanting to preserve a piece of its luxury even though it was an uncomfortable atrocity and I hated it. But, I held it.
The stench of humility plunged into my lungs as I stood from where I had fallen. His back was at me, concealing whatever it was that he was fooling with in his hand. I couldn't ignore my thoughts as they drifted towards violence. I wanted to stab him. I wanted it more than anything – more than water. But, sticking an object into his back would ignite his fury. I knew I would suffer for it. I knew I would lose, again.
He turned and pushed a white object towards me.
"Take off the dress," he said.
"What?" My hand clutched the material at the side of my thighs.
"Take it off and put this on."
Before I could refuse or take what was in his hands he tossed it to me. I examined it; a white gown I slipped on before dinner. They wouldn't be so bad if a bra and panties accompanied them. I eased a glance around the room. I didn't see anything to duck behind so I wouldn't be naked in front of him.
"Change."
I wrung the gown around in my hands. "Uh… is there a bathroom I could change in?"
"Your modesty is something you're going to have to get over."
I don't know if it was the pain in my wrist, the irritable heaviness of my eyes, or the questions gone unanswered, but I snapped. I threw the gown down on the floor and placed my well hand on my hip, took a deep breath, and didn't stop the anger from bubbling under the surface. "You know what, dude? Fuck you! I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for any of this!"
Before I could continue his lips twisted back into a hideous sneer. I froze as he took two long strides towards me and gripped me under my jaw with one hand. My hands instantly gripped onto his arm to steady or ready myself for whatever he was going to do as he spun me around forcefully. He pulled me towards him, my back hit his chest and his lips were at my ear. "You're under the impression that I care what you have to say, and you're wrong," his voice a low hiss. "I tire of arguing, of these games! If you try to fight anymore, I will surely fracture your wrist. It won't stop me from what I need from you."
He spoke against the sensitive skin under my ear. I shivered in disgust from his cool breath. His hand released from my throat and he reined me in tighter, locking me in a backwards embrace by gripping onto my shoulder. What was he going to do? At first I thought he meant to place his teeth into my neck, but it was made clear what his intentions were when his finger or knuckle dragged slightly down my spine before tugging on the back of my dress – the zipper! I ran cold as panic seized my chest as my breath plummeted from me. As the teeth split, the edges folded and loosened the once-firm fabric which covered my body. My torso was the first to feel the slack, then my waist, and when he was finished the strap against my shoulder was being lifted by his fingers.
"Stop," I said quietly. It was a plea.
What he was doing hurt me, only not physically. It left me with bitter confusion to decide the fate of the dress, but it wasn't really an option. If I left it to him he would have a power over me. He would decide how it would fall. He would decide when. He would see me. He would feel me. I couldn't let him have that power. I didn't want him touching my bare skin.
Surprisingly, he backed away from me, loosening the firm snare his arm had across the front of my shoulders and neck. I hadn't realized how tense I was when he was touching me. My entire body was a hard cast of fear and it didn't change when he stepped back.
I looked over my shoulder while holding the dress in place at my chest. I expected to meet his eyes but he had his back quietly turned to me while he looked straight ahead at the opposite wall. I wondered for a moment what he was doing but he spoke.
"Hurry up and change," he said, his tone harsh.
I licked my dry lips and tried to breathe slowly. His action was surprising, almost relieving yet my stomach was in knots as I reached down for the white cotton robe on the floor. I took one last glance behind me, assuring myself that he wasn't sneaking a peek, and then quickly let the dress slump to the floor. I slipped the other article over my head faster than I thought I could and picked up the dress. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with it, so I folded it over my forearm.
"Done," I said softly and turned back to him.
He spun slowly on his heel as he spoke. "Your modesty is uncalled for in this room. If there is ever a need for you to undress again, remember that. Your," he gestured with his hand, "physical aspects don't interest me."
"I just... don't like to undress in front of people, regardless."
"Non-sense," he huffed. "Surely you have had sex. He was a stranger once. Did you turn off the light first?" He chuckled.
"There is a difference between a boyfriend and a stranger I have no feelings for."
"I see no difference," he said as he slipped the dress on a hanger and hung it on a rack on the back of a door. "After all, a mate is a stranger at some point. And you're never truly familiar until you've met them with deep physical admission."
"A person could know another person without sex, but it's probably been a while since you've gone on a date."
Either he didn't hear me, or he ignored me as he pressed a small red button on the wall. "Send someone to take the new girl to her room," he said.
I was relieved to hear I would be getting out of here. I didn't want to spend another second locked in the same space as him.
Edward lingered close to the red button and waited. I was unsure why.
"Hello?" he said forcefully. When he didn't get an answer, which I assumed that's what he was waiting for, he hit the wall with the side of his clenched fist and murmured, "I'm not a fucking handler."
A handler?
"You make it sound like you're dealing with wild animals."
He rubbed his thumb across his thick eyebrow as he cocked his head at me. "Well, that is precisely what you are."
He unlocked the locks with a thin, round, peg-like key he took from his pocket and locked them once we were in the hall. It was unnaturally quiet. I wondered what time it was. My hazy state and the darkness when I woke up might suggest that it was early in the morning. The quiet was a backdrop to the heavy, falling thuds of his shoes. I walked bare foot with the heels and dress in my hand.
I usually didn't mind being bare since I wasn't the type of girl that wore socks, but now the feel of the cold, wooden floors under my feet made me feel considerably more naked.
I couldn't help but wonder what my dad was doing at that very moment. Had he tried to call me? Had anyone tried to call? Were they worried that I didn't answer my phone? Did anyone realize that I was missing? Someone had to know. Jessica and Angela would know, unless Jake got to them.
Jake.
The very thought of his name made me furious. I could see the last smirk on his face as if he were in front of me. He knew what would become of my friends and I was powerless to stop it when it could have been prevented in the first place.
I should have declined his invitation that night, but would it have turned out any different? Would saying no have kept me from coming here? I couldn't be sure and I was beginning to think I never would.
I recognized the hallway that my room was on when we got to it. Even though I had only been down it twice, I recalled the flickering wall lamp past the shower room door.
Edward stopped and released my arm with hesitation. He furrowed his brow and studied me before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key ring with several keys on it. He spoke to me while he found the right one to turn the locks on the door. "I'll be watching you and we'll meet again in a few days to begin your treatment."
I nodded slightly then entered the room when he opened the door.
I took a deep breath when he closed it behind me and when I was sure he was gone I released it while slumping to the floor. My eyes were heavy with tears and fatigue as I wept where I had fallen. It was hopeless.
It wasn't long before a hand patted my shoulder. In the dim light I recognized Rosalie's features as she attempted to comfort me quietly. She never asked what was wrong nor did she offer anything other than a soft Shh against our quiet surroundings in an attempt to calm me.
I knew I had woken her and I apologized as quietly as I could.
She only murmured, "It's okay," then took the dress and shoes from me to hang them back in the closet.
She sat next to me for a few minutes with her legs curled underneath her while rubbing my arm. I didn't want sympathy but it felt nice to have someone's kindness next to me. I began to feel my toes grow colder, and my legs soon after. In that moment, I couldn't have cared.
"Come on," Rosalie whispered. "Let's get some sleep."
I nodded then stood.
She pulled back the blankets on one side so she could slip into the middle. Another body was on the other side of her, sleeping peacefully. I couldn't tell who it was.
I wiped my tears one last time and sat on the edge before laying down and covering up. It felt awkward to be in the bed with two other people. I hadn't slept with another person in a long time, so it took a few minutes to adjust myself to the unavoidable feet next to mine. I kept my back to my bedmates, and stared over the edge.
I tried to find comfort by tucking my hand underneath the unsupportive pillow. The familiar position helped somewhat and after a few minutes, I knew I was alone again. Rosalie's soft breaths told me that she had already drifted temporarily away from this world. I so badly wanted to follow her. She made it seem so easy to ignore the shadows in the corners. My mind wasn't ready to give over to the darkness just beyond reach, but I could feel my body slowly slipping.
But all I could think about was how unreal and false this situation was. For a moment when I had woken earlier, I thought that perhaps I was dreaming, that everything I had experienced was an illusion because things like this just don't exist.
Vampires were no more real than an abominable snowman or the Loch Ness Monster. They were mere speculation by people who believed in fairies or magic – people that were trying to convince others that there was more mystery in this world than we have yet to sort out.
If they had asked me a few months ago, if they had asked me if I believed in the supernatural, that by chance vampires exist, I would have said no. But now after seeing it, and feeling it – feeling the teeth of this creature penetrate my skin, and the burn in my arm from its kiss, I can say I believe in unseen worlds of unimaginative lore and horror. I believe there are some things which can't be explained. I believe in vampires.
The title of this chapter has to do with quirky animal friends that seem to be in a lot of fables. Every chapter, if you haven't noticed, relates to fairy tales.
