This chapter was easy to write, and I did actually write it the same day I wrote the last one! Funny thing here: microsoft word thinks this is less words than fanfic does! haha, I wonder which one is accurate!
Mistake
I pull away from the boy, blood dripping down my chin. His lids are half closed, eyelashes fluttering, but his eyes are still filled with fire and hate, a string of curses resting on every laboured breath. I shake my head; realizing, with a start, the gravity of what I've done. I look around frantically, hoping no one was anywhere near, hoping no one was missing this Day boy. He struggles to stand, but I hold him where he is, draped over my right arm. I can't have him running away and telling anyone.
I feel a sharp tug at my hair and snap back to look at him. His fist is balled into my roots, and he's pulling sporadically, still cursing. I let him scramble to his feet before wrapping my arms around his thin waist and pulling his hands behind his back.
"Well, thank you. Couldn't save me my dignity, could you? This is really hard on a man's pride, you know!" His voice is a low hiss, touched with annoyance.
I whisper, as close as I can to his ear, hoping no one heard his angry cursing, "You keep it down and do what I say." Panic courses through me and slips into my voice. I could be in huge trouble, not only with Cross, but with the Hunter's Association and the Council of Elders, and the thought of sitting in someone's office with Zero's anti-vampire gun to my temple terrifies me. This could ruin Cross' plan to have vampires coexisting with humans.
"You tell me what the hell's going on." The boy snaps, countering my demand with one of his own.
I'm taken aback at his attitude, but I don't waste any time responding or questioning it. I slip one arm under his legs and lift him, running back towards the Moon Dorm and trying to evade his flailing limbs and stream of whispered swears and rejoicing in his lightness. A tear falls over my cheek and I blink furiously.
I stop at the door, glancing at the slowly rising sun.
"Open the door for me." I try to sound demanding, but my voice cracks and wavers, giving away my nervousness. Anyone could be lurking the halls of the dorm, and Tarot is undoubtedly waiting in our room right now, wondering where I am.
"I won't, you- ." The boy starts defiantly, and I almost feel my knees buckle with exasperation.
"I don't have time for this!" I hiss at him, and he smirks at me.
"Let me down, and I'll open the door for you."
I slide my arm out from under his knees and grasp his wrist firmly, then open the door myself, dragging him in after me. I try to avoid the main passages, and only meet any trouble when I reach my dorm room. I can barely keep from sinking to the floor and sobbing, the weight of the disaster I've managed to create balanced precariously on my shoulders. I can't bring myself to open the door, such a simple thing suddenly seeming to hold my fate.
Suddenly, the door swings open, and Tarot pulls me in, locking it behind us, bracelets jingling. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and bury my head into her sweater, feeling the world disappear into the deep crimson fabric.
It's the colour of the blood.
The blood that, because I took it, could ruin my life.
I barely feel her guiding me towards my bed, and I try to explain in a flurry of broken words.
"I already know, I know." Tarot repeats, over and over, trying to make me stop mumbling. The boy joins in with her reassurances, swearing nonstop and cursing the Night Class and rules and society, and, it seems, everything he can possibly think of.
Tarot snaps something at him, waving her bejewelled wrist at him menacingly. He raises an eyebrow and aims his insults at her instead, running a finger over his bite wounds, where a trickle of blood still rests.
I can feel Tarot's hand shaking, and I reach out to grab her wrist. She breathes deeply, her lip twitching and her body tense. She suddenly leaps forward and I yank on her arm, pulling her back. The boy jumps onto Tarot's bed and pulls his feet up, as though touching the very ground where our own feet rest would be an insult to him.
Tarot drags her feet towards the bathroom and rummages through our many cupboards, eventually extracting a long white bandage and tossing it to the other end of the room. The boy fumbles to catch it, growling and swearing.
"Wrap it around your neck, Klutz!" Tarot snaps at him, wiping away the one tear I had let fall off my cheek.
The boy does as he was told, cursing Tarot, her hair, and virtually everything about her.
"You won't get in trouble." Tarot tells me, pulling my comforter over my shoulders. "I won't let anyone find out." She gives the boy a piercing look as she says this.
My stomach twists. My future rests in the hands of a bad mouthed human stranger whom I probably scared half to death and Tarot, whom I've only known a short while.
Tarot flicks the key to the door out of her pocket and spins it around her finger. The boy watches her with wide eyes, finally silent.
"So..." She starts, and I prepare myself for the unending swears that will undoubtedly flow from his mouth when she threatens him, which I'm sure she's about to do. "What's your name?"
I glance at her, sniffing unhappily.
"Why would I tell you?" He snaps at her, sliding against the wall behind Tarot's bed.
"Because I asked nicely." Tarot informs him simply, her head cocked to the side.
The boy sneers and throws several more insults at her. Anger seems to be his only emotion.
"Fine. I'll just call you Klutz." She tosses the key an inch above her head and catches it again, threading her finger through the loop at the end and spinning it. The boy's eyes follow it up and he lurches forward on the mattress. Tarot slips the old fashioned silver key back into her jean's pocket and leads me over to the bathroom, closing the door on the confused face of the boy.
"Listen, Sora," She says softly, a hand on my shoulder. "You're safe now. I'll deal with Klutz, alright? Just take a shower and go to sleep; the sun's gonna be up soon." She gives me a signature half smile and a fleeting hug before leaving the room.
I wash off my face, stomach tight and hands shaking with anticipation. My whole body knows it's in danger, the adrenaline of trying to get away with something so huge pushing sweat down my blood streaked face.
I stay under the hot rush of water longer than I usually do, the shower head hanging over me as I sit on the bath floor. The water seems to wash away the grime on my heart as well as that on my hands and body.
When I step out of the shower; a fresh wave of nervousness brushes over me. When Tarot said she would "deal" with the boy, what had she meant? I linger in the steamy warmth of the bathroom, not wanting to look into his hateful eyes or feel them on me like accusing spot lights.
Tarot and the strange boy's voices float through the door and I can tell they're arguing. I slip through the door and into my bed, trying not to be noticed. I turn away, and hear the swish of Tarot closing the bed curtains around me.
"Klutz, just... shhh..." Tarot whispers.
I close my eyes and try to shut out their voices, but the boy's voice keeps getting louder every time Tarot tells him to be quiet.
"My name is Xavier!" He snaps.
"Well, you wouldn't tell me that when I asked before and I've already named you." Tarot whispers back.
Xavier begins to swear again. He really does seem to become angry at everything, first he didn't want to tell Tarot his name, and now he is furious that she won't use it.
I pull my blankets over my head, trying to drown out their voices, regret seeping in with me and wrapping me tighter than the blankets themselves, choking me. I try to stop thinking about it all; the taste of his blood on my lips and the feel of it pulsing down my throat, like his heart was beating just to push it all into me. Mainly, I try not to think of what will happen to me when Cross finds out, which I'm almost certain will happen.
And I think back to before this, realizing, all too late, that it was that first taste of blood that was the true mistake. It wasn't harmless, or just a fleeting need for more. It was a hole I had begun to dig for myself, and I keep digging that hole unknowingly every day, when I swallow a blood tablet and think how much better the real thing is.
It was that first excursion; that first taste, that was my mistake.
Please review, everyone! The promise of cookies and hugs is still withstanding!