"Elithe?" First, it was faint. "Elithe?" Now, it was adamant.
"Lokariste?" She murmurs, slowly rising from the bed.
He can sense her hand upon the doorknob. "Don't!" She immediately withdraws her hand. "Whatever you do, leave the door closed. And locked. Don't open it for any reason."
"I don't understand…"
His voice is pained. "Goddamn it, just listen to me! Okay? Keep it locked!"
"…Alright."
"Just… just listen to me from the other side, okay?"
"…Okay."
"Okay." He is breathing heavily. "Okay, I've wanted to say this since I saw you, but I can't. You want to know why I've been playing guardian angel? I don't know. You intrigue me somehow, you… you make me want to be something I'm not… and… that hurts, Elithe, it really hurts." He slams his fist against the door.
"Lokariste - "
"Please don't interrupt me." Silence. "Okay, so… so it hurts, Elithe, and… here I am, and I barely know you, but… but I've stuck my neck out what, three times now? And I even took on Nic because of you. Now, that says something."
And she still feels ill because of it. Nonetheles, with her cheek against the door, she listens with a silent longing to be upon the other side.
"And… I can't explain why. Jessica was ribbing me about half-breeds, but I know that isn't right. I don't want to settle down yet, so that isn't right. Is it? It can't be. That can't be right." He continues in a hysterical stream of consciousness. "But there's something about you, Elithe, that I just can't put my finger on, and it's driving me crazy. I… I don't know how I want you. I'm afraid if I touch you, I'll tear you to shreds." He pauses, leaning against the door, suddenly out of breath. "God, I want to touch you."
She closes her eyes, pushing back tears. It had what, a few days? And already she felt as if she had known this - creature - all of her life. This creature. No, it was still too much to accept. It was still something that could somehow never be.
She presses her hand up against the cold wood of the door and sighs softly to herself. "So do I."
She hears him rise and exit from beyond the door. "Lokariste?" She asks after a time. She tries meekly once more before finally debating upon turning the lock.
It's at that precise moment that she is thrown violently backwards from the impact upon the door from the other side. The lock remains intact, but the most horrible scraping, clawing and pounding exists upon the other side of the door. She is both terrified and overcome with sorrow. These are the thrashings of a lunatic. One who is not in full possession of his faculties. And yet, she is powerless against her compassion for him.
"Please…" she whimpers softly. "Please stop."
"You don't get it, do you?" He calls out, a cruel edge to his raspy voice. "I can't!" And he thrashes ever more forcefully, nearly knocking the door from its hinges.
"You can!"
"I can't!" goes the argument. "And I won't!" He appears to be crying. "Don't open the door. For God's sake, Elithe, stay away from the door!"
Upon the other side, she cries softly to herself, a spectrum of emotion welling inside of her. She glances briefly to her gun setting upon the nightstand. It would take a single shot. Just a single shot to put them both out of this misery.
She rises from the bed instead.
"Lokariste?"
"Get away!"
"Lokariste…!"
The tears are quite evident now. "Damn it, Elithe, I told you - "
But she is unwilling to listen. First, she unlatches the lock, secondly the turns the knob. Upon opening the door, she is greeted by the sudden, unsuspecting, terrified blow of Lokariste's flexed palm and fingers.
Three lacerations spread across her neck, and she falls dumbly to her knees.
Startled, and apparently out of his sudden rage, with the tears still blinding his vision, Lokariste kneels to her. "Oh, God, oh, God," he murmurs repetitively. "Oh, God, Elithe?" He shivers and trembles with this newfound sort of fear.
Elithe stares blankly out of half-raised eyelids. Her deep violet eyes focus upon nothing.
"Elithe!" He shrieks, now frightening himself. He fumbles to receive a response from her. "For God's sake, why didn't you keep the door closed!"
She responds somewhat feebly, "I'm sorry. I couldn't."
"Damn it! Goddamn it, why?" It is pained.
"I… was too moved to help… you. By your… pain…" Her eyes slowly move to glance at him. She smiles strangely. Oddly content. Bizarrely serene.
"Oh, no… oh, no, no, you don't." He struggles to prop her against his bicep, and set her comfortably across his lap while using a portable telephone to call for help.
Shortly thereafter, "stay with me, Elithe. Don't go anywhere… okay? Goddamn it… stay here!" His voice hits uneven tones he didn't know existed within it. He cannot believe he could be so frightened, so completely frightened - and so quickly. It seems an impossibility. "Elithe, come on…" Nothing, now. No response whatsoever. Her eyes focus again upon the nothingness, and her mouth remains slightly open. No breath travels past her drying lips.
"No, damn it, no!" Suddenly lowering his mouth onto hers, he begins to supply a life-giving sustenance; breathing into her in such a manner that she may once more regain life of her own. Curiously, it works. She chokes, and gasps, now pulling full respiration upon her own, her eyes turning questioningly to his.
"Why…"
Once more, he places a finger against her lips. "I don't know. All I know is you're not going to die here. And not now. This damned town has already claimed one of your lives; it's not taking another, do you hear me? You will not die here… and not by my hand…" She reaches up, weakly and touches with her fingertip a tear upon his cheek. Sirens echo in the distance nearing toward them, and Lokariste rises with her gingerly in his arms.
The last thing she sees is the black of the night sky and the full moon in sole possession of it.