Leilani
The next few days were long and difficult. Jasper messaged me a few times, and while I said things were fine, I didn't ask to hang out or meet up. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to see anyone.
The medication was meant to have kicked in, although it didn't seem to be doing much. After waking up at five in the morning and having another crying session, I decided to go and visit the doctors. All they could do was raise the dosage. My first appointment for therapy wasn't for another two months.
I lay on my sofa, scrolling across all my games on the screen, trying to select one to play, trying for force myself to do something. Anything. In the end, I turned off the screen, palms over my eyelids.
Upon hearing a knock on my door, I sat up. My mum walked in with a cup of tea in one hand, and an envelope in the other.
"Hi love, there's a letter for you." She put it on the side and carried my tea over to me.
I took it, grateful. "Thanks, mum."
"What have you been doing today?" she asked me, perching on the back of the sofa.
I glanced at my blank TV screen. "I tried to play something."
She frowned. It was afternoon after all, and that's all I had to show for the entire day.
"Why don't you go for a walk? Or a run?" she suggested.
I scoffed. Could she really imagine me running?
"I'm just trying to think of things you can do, love." My mum sighed, heading back out.
It wasn't like I hadn't tried. I'd looked up meditation, mindfulness, and all the other remedies people claimed helped them. However, when I tried a few of them they didn't seem to make me feel any different or better. How was sitting quietly for a few minutes meant to stop me from wanting to disappear? How would going for a run stop me from crying all the time? I just couldn't imagine it.
I stood up, looking around my room for something to do. I ran a finger across the spines of my video game boxes and opened my wardrobe. My hand brushed against the fabric of the clothes. I closed the doors again and walked over to the cupboard. On the top were framed pictures of friends and I.
I picked up the picture of Evie and I. We had our arms around each other in London by the Thames, grinning at the camera. That day had been so much fun. I felt like a completely different person now.
I went to put it back up, but the stand on the back caught on the envelope my mum had put down. It slipped over, falling to the wooden floor. The glass cracked.
"Shit," I bend down, turning over the frame to take out the photo. As I did, the glass fell apart, dropping out of the frame.
Rolling my eyes at how stupid I was, I began picking up the pieces.
I sucked in a breath. The base of my thumb had scraped on one of the shards, leaving a small cut. It wasn't deep enough for any blood to spill. Curious, I examined the split in the skin. It had hurt, but it had almost felt like some kind of release.
Sucking in a deep breath, I slowly moved my hand back down, pushing my thumb against the glass, letting it sink in lower and across towards my wrist. I winced, bracing myself against the pain, but still continuing to do it. I stopped just before the top of my wrist, swallowing. I deserved the pain. For being such an awful, terrible person. I deserved it all.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Fresh tears started spilling from my eyes. I stood up, grabbing a tissue and pressing it against my hand. There wasn't a lot of blood, but definitely enough that I'd need a dressing to put on the cut.
A few minutes later, after I'd managed to stop crying, I sorted out the mess, and my hand. On the way back to my room to finish my tea, I stopped at the door, spying the envelope on the side. I picked it up and sat down on my sofa.
It was weird. There was no stamp, no postmark. It was as if someone had just come by the house and dropped it through the letterbox. Who was it? Why hadn't they just given it to me?
I opened the envelope and inside was an old black and white photograph of a solider in uniform. Why had I received this? Who had sent it? I flipped the photo over and saw a name on the back along with a date.
Jasper Whitlock, 1858
My insides twinged as I stared at the name. I turned the photo back over and squinted at the small low-quality image. The hair was the same – wavy, chin-length. The eyes, the nose… mouth.
"What the fuck?" I whispered. This was some bloody condition.
No, it had to be a joke.
My mind snapped back to when I'd been searching for information on my phone. Ghosts. Ghosts?
No, Jasper wasn't a ghost!
Or maybe – was Jasper a ghost?
"What the fuck?" I repeated.
No. This wasn't a real person. This was just a joke, probably one of his family members doing. Trying to mess with me.
I sat down at my desk, opening my laptop. I started searching for Jasper Whitlock. A history website came up with a page dedicated to the man. I clicked on the link, opening up the page.
The same picture, enlarged popped up. I sat back in my chair, starting in the eyes of the solider. The resemblance was uncanny.
I started to read the biography, finding out about the Confederate American solider, who had been the youngest major in the cavalry. Who had mysteriously disappeared, thought dead at nineteen.
This was ridiculous. It was just a coincidence that they looked exactly the same. Although…
Jasper did say he was from Texas…
I rushed down the stairs, pulling on my faux leather jacket as I went.
"Oh, you're going out?" my mum stepped into the hallway.
"Yeah, for a walk." I said in a hurry.
"Enjoy," she said.
I was already out the door, hands in my pockets as I hurried down the drive. My heart was thumping in my chest. I didn't know what was going to happen, but whatever was going on, I knew I had to find out.
It took about twenty minutes to walk to the Cullen's house. I rung the bell, and when there was no answer, I knocked a few times.
No one was home.
I looked up, searching the windows to see if anyone was there. Maybe they just hadn't heard me. I waited a moment, and tried the bell again. Nothing.
There was a way around the back, between the hedges. An iron gate had been left open. I slipped through, wandering down the path. Even amongst all the flowerbeds, greenhouses and garden furniture, there was not one of the large family in sight.
I walked back around to the front, closing the gate behind me and going to take a seat on the steps by the front door. I felt like an idiot. I shouldn't have just gone over without checking first, but I hadn't wanted to give Jasper a chance to blow me off and escape my questions.
I sat on the steps for a few minutes, thinking about what to do. I wasn't thinking for long. At the end of the drive a black car turned in, and I looked up, squinting in the dimming light. It was Carlisle's car.
He stopped and got out, giving me his usual warm smile. "Good evening, Leilani."
I quickly stood up. "Hey."
"I hope you haven't been here long," Carlisle started.
I shook my head. "No, I only just arrived. Do you know where Jasper is?" My hands were still in my pockets and I could feel the photo against my fingers, almost burning me, desperate to get out.
"He's not answering his phone?" he asked.
I chewed my lip, feeling more idiotic by the second. "I haven't tried," I admitted.
Carlisle didn't seem bothered. "Why don't you come in for a cup of tea?" he suggested.
I didn't want tea. I didn't want to sit down and have a chat, even though Carlisle was the nicest person in the world. I didn't think I'd be able to sit still. My hand deep in my pocket, still stinging from the glass, also made me uncomfortable at the idea. If he saw it, he might ask some questions. Difficult ones.
"No, thank you," I replied. "I should really be going." I began to start walking away, feeling his scrutinising gaze on me as I was acting so strangely.
"Leilani?" he called out.
I blinked heavily before turning around.
"Are you alright?" Carlisle asked.
"Yep," I said, a lump forming in my throat. "Thanks."
"I can drive you home," he offered.
"It's ok, thank you," I quickly walked away, so that he wouldn't be able to continue talking to me.
Once I was around the corner and on the long road, surrounded by tall hedges and trees, I took my hands from my pockets to hold my glasses in one and cover my eyes with the other. A sob escaped my mouth. I hurried onwards, trying to keep it together and look normal to anyone driving past.
After a few deep breaths, I took out my phone and stared at Jaspers number. Before I could talk myself out of it, I tapped it and held the phone to my ear, listening to the ringing. My walking slowed as I listened to the tones, my mind racing as I tried to think of what to say.
Slowly I looked up and stopped. A few metres ahead of me stood Jasper.
The phone continued to ring. My cold hands felt like they were fighting cement as I lowered my phone. He looked sad, scared to come closer.
"Jasper," I took a step forward.
He took one back. "Don't come any closer," he choked, turning his head to the side.
"Why, what's wrong?" I took another step and he put up his hand, holding it out.
Why was he being so weird? I was no longer thinking about getting answers from him, I just wanted to know if he was ok.
I pulled my hands out my pockets and tried again to get closer.
A low, deep, animalistic growling came from his throat as he turned further away to hide his face.
A chill ran up my spine and I was rooted to the spot. That sound had been unlike anything I'd ever heard. It was inhuman.
Very quietly, so quiet that I almost missed it, he spoke. "Your hand."
I touched the plaster on my right hand. What about it?
Jasper covered his mouth and nose with both of his hands, crouching.
"What is it?" I asked. And then it clicked. "The blood?"
He nodded once. It was enough.
Pale, cold skin. Strange eyes. Unchanging appearance. Immortality. He was never hungry, because normal food would never satisfy him.
Jasper wasn't a ghost. He was a vampire.
I took a deep breath. "Jasper-,"
The road was empty. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.