2. Get Up Again
"Here we go again,
A very temperamental process, beginning with all of our excess,
Affecting our very own ingest, this side of you is speechless,
Overwhelmed within an abscess, creating new diseases,
And infecting whom ever it pleases,
We've been living this way for too long, too long."
~2 years later~
Rayesa screamed and flew up in bed, eyes open and terrified against the bright light. She'd had the nightmare again, and according to the clock/radio beside her bed, she was late for her lunch with Asher. Just great.
She jumped up, feeling the cold sweat on her skin, and ran into the bathroom, ignoring her ghastly image in the mirror. She couldn't think about what she'd contemplated millions of times before—the nightmare, that is.
The warm water soaked away all memories of the dream, but she had to be careful of the new bruises on her legs, arms, and back, that Asher had given her the day before. They were painfully sore, and seemed to be almost everywhere—even a bite mark marred her pale throat.
Thirty minutes later she stared at her reflection—the black hair sprawled around her shoulders, long and silky, and stirring, gray eyes. A clingy dark-blue shirt showed her curves and covered her bruises, black leather pants as well, with a sharp new leather jacket to cover her throat. She licked her lips, feeling it crack and tasted blood.
Ray grabbed her house keys and stormed out of the house as fast as she could; she didn't know what Asher would do when he saw her, but mostly a beating.
Did I know he'd turn abusive two years ago, when I turned Derek down for him? Rayesa mused as she walked the blocks to the club. No, but if I had I still would have been stupid and gone for him.
Speak of the dead and they will rise—she thought suddenly, catching a glimpse of black hair, glinting violet in the sunlight. Angled features, pale and chiseled in ice, turned her way and froze. She could practically see the waves of dismay rolling off of Derek Bloodstone ten feet away.
Oh, God, she thought suddenly.
He seemed to be deciding if he should run or let her talk to him, but his heart seemed to overcome his brain.
Ray stormed up to him and just stared in wonder. "You're alive," she breathed, feeling lightheaded.
His violet eyes were sorrowful, and his hand gently brushed her upper arm where a bruise was hidden beneath her clothes. He caught the flash of pain and asked in a low voice, "Want to go somewhere to talk?"
Dumbfounded, Ray nodded silently. She licked her lip and winced, but followed Derek to an alley around the corner. She took the time to study how he'd changed over the two years.
His hair was longer, disarrayed and unkempt, his clothes seemed picked in a rush—black pants, wife-beater, pyramid-studded belt. The arms revealed from the shirt were muscled, but not largely so, just the way Ray always liked, one with a silver band holding a watch on the wrist. His face features were pale as ever, sharply angled, violet eyes intent under male eyebrows. A few strands of hair flew over his forehead, but he seemed to have outgrown the habit of brushing it aside. Three silver rings in his ears glinted in the light, and Ray knew through their bond that he'd had at least two other rings on his torso.
She licked her lips, trying to hide the reaction she felt to the new Derek. "You've changed," she stated boldly, unconsciously rubbing her hand against the soft leather of her pants. She was nervous, around her own soulmate. But she hadn't seen him in two years, and had thought him dead the whole time. As she realized her actions, she stopped and ran the hand through her hair, taking a deep breath.
Derek glanced at her, a flash of bright violet. "Yeah. Nipples pierced, ears pierced, a tattoo on my back—but that's not what you really want to ask me, Rayesa," he said calmly, stopping and leaning against a brick wall in the alley. He looked at ease, and suddenly Rayesa knew exactly what he meant.
She tried to ignore the next question by looking at where they were; a warm alley, with graffiti in confusing writing along the walls, two dumpsters on each end, and the light streamed into it brightly. This should be at night, Ray thought suddenly. At night, something romantic, like in books. Not in broad daylight where anyone could see.
"What were you doing these last two years, Derek Bloodstone?" she asked finally, hoping her voice wouldn't catch.
His smile was like lightning. "Was hired to work for the Night World instead of being killed," he explained, voice lazy. He stood to his full length, so he towered over Ray for a moment before pacing.
"Doing what?" she squeaked. The things that he explained were different made Ray think of him becoming a male-whore, among other things.
He stopped, shrugged, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Things."
"God damn it, Bloodstone. Tell me what you did when you disappeared when I thought you were dead," Ray said, tempted to start yelling, but knew an onlooker would be no help in the situation.
He leaned towards her, eyes narrowed and surveying. "I don't know if I can trust you, Lavente," he said softly, briefly. "Remember last time I told you a secret?"
She stared at him in horror until she realized his reasons were right. "As long as you didn't become a man-whore, I'm fine with that," she said, voice and face deliberately emotionless.
Derek's amused violet eyes flickered at her, and his smile flashed canines. "Doesn't matter, does it?"
"Doesn't matter?" she shrieked, stopped, and took a deep breath. "Derek, I spent the last two years grieving over you, and you won't tell me where you've been?"
This time he let out a small laugh, and spoke in quiet tones. "You haven't been grieving over me for the last two years, Rayesa. Maybe the first month, but," he said calmly, "three months later your mother died—you were grieving over that—and then little Asher Blackthorn decides to become an abusive, overprotective boyfriend that beat you whenever you didn't do everything exactly his way." Then he added in an expressionless voice, "Even in bed."
By the time he had finished, Ray's eyes were wide in horror, the pupils' mere points. Instantly, she was aware of the bruises on her mortal body along with the cuts. "You've kept tabs on me the past years?" she whispered.
"No, not tabs. I've been watching you, hon." He paced a moment, in self-loathing, before her burst out in another wave of conflicting things.
"I don't know why I'm explaining this, Ray, but I have the urge to. At night, whenever I missed you, I climbed into your bed at night and held you. I'd tell you of my day, tell you what happened, but forced you into deep sleep. I wasn't allowed to be in contact with you, you see.
"And then one night, after my first mission, I came to you—to find you and Asher having a little fun. I saw your first bruises then, and understood exactly why you cried in your sleep, why you screamed and murmured harsh words that I thought were directed at me. But really, they were to Asher." He licked his lips, paused.
"I got a hold of your file from a…friend…and discovered about your mother. I went on with the normal routine for a week, before I decided that what I was doing was pointless, —you weren't going to leave your beating boyfriend, ever, and you thought I was dead. Not even when you found him with blood on his face after you found your mothers dead body. You thought it was an accident, even when you saw his unsympathetic face.
"So I stopped. I've been putting myself to my job ever since then," he finished, looking away.
By now, Ray was leaning against a wall for support, feeling the warm sun through her jacket, but it didn't chase her chill away. She could only stare up at her soulmate, trying to comprehend all he said to her.
"I told the Night World about you and set you into a trap—you still loved me?" her voice whispered, unordered.
Derek stopped his pacing once more and studied her intently. "Yes, obviously."
"But—why?"
"You were—are—my soulmate, Rayesa Deviant Lavente, no matter what. I can't help but love you," he explained unashamed.
"But I sent you to your death! I lived with that for two years, with guilt and horror and longing, and let myself be beat by someone I thought loved me like you do—had!" she yelled, supporting herself again. Angry tears streamed down her face, and she brushed them away, even more furious. "God damn you, Derek Bloodstone! You won't even tell me what your job has been, what you've done to stay alive for the past years!"
Derek stopped, stared at her, and walked away. He simply just walked away without explaining, without letting her read the emotions written on his face.
Sometimes, it's easier to runaway from emotions and questions.
But as she looked back on the memory, he had been emotionless the whole time, as if he didn't care that her life was ruined because of him—or that she had ruined his life.
"Then I noticed a difference in the way I saw other insects,
Who were living a life by indulgence, sheltered by their parents,
Suck an unlucky existence, not given a change to experience,
And make their own decisions; I wouldn't trade my own mistakes at all,
Reach out your hands."