Stop

Seconds go by and turn into minutes. Minutes turn into hours. Hours turn into days. Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months.

It has been a month and three weeks since I last saw him. That´s the same as seven weeks, 49 days, 1,176 hours or even 70,560 minutes. This is the longest period I have gone without him and I feel alone and sometimes, I lose faith that he'll ever come back.

However, a small part of my blood still keeps to the promise in his letter. He will return, when the time is right. So, I haven't let this affect my life the way it did before. I haven't confined myself to my room, or kept silent.

I still talk to people because I need to pretend everything is okay. I still speak, especially with Kyle and my father, who of course believes I am over that phase and is unaware that he ever visited me. He believes Eric has gone and is never coming back, and every time he reminds me, I begin to believe it a bit more myself.

However, some things have stayed the same as my depression has not been completely subtle. I am alone most of the time at home as the other three often go on hunts without me. They have good reason to as well.

Four weeks ago, I had decided to help Kyle on another hunt, to come face to face with a vampire. I had not known him and Kyle had managed to silver him down. When I had laid eyes on him, something changed within me. All I had to do was shoot him straight through the heart, but as his beautiful face and his eyes stared up at me, they suddenly reminded me of Eric – I couldn't shoot him, just like I wouldn't be able to hurt Eric.

Of course, Kyle ran as fast as he could, but all I could do was stare at the poor vampire, chained to the ground. I set him free, apologizing but as my survival instinct set in, I too left running towards the safety of the day.

"Thank-you," he had shouted after me.

He didn't follow me, or try to hurt me. Kyle was mad, but I couldn't agree with him. I felt like I had done the right thing, but of course, I had put both our lives in danger, so I quit the hunts.

Most of the days, I try to keep busy. There is always some washing up in the kitchen or cleaning around the house. Other days I iron whilst others I will just spend staring blankly at the TV. When Kyle is at home I train him, whilst also testing my own strength, constantly reminding myself that Eric is far. Jeremy, Noah and Sienna are all loose, alongside every other vampire nomad that could walk into our town.

However, most of the time I spend looking helplessly out of my window, waiting for movement between the trees just like I had been that day he had appeared.

The days pass slowly, but I comfort myself by remembering that every day that goes past, the closer I am to seeing him return. But what if he is hurt; what if he can´t return to me?

I sit now, still and quiet in my bed reading the note he left me over and over again. For these past weeks, the note has been what has kept me going. I've read it every morning and every night, praying that the following day he'd come. He says he hasn't left me, that he loves me, that he will return when he can – but I don´t feel like any of these things are true. It feels like he has left me, because he doesn't love me, and most of all it feels like he won´t ever return and I will be left forever deep under this depression, from which only my true love could rescue me from.

I decide to go downstairs once again, wanting to keep my hands busy and my thoughts away from Eric. I have to stop thinking about him; I have to get better. The way I am acting is not normal. My life doesn't revolve around him! I mentally remind myself.

Before I know it, I have dropped onto the floor by the top of the stairs, bringing my head onto my hands.

I can't believe it. I am actually angry at myself for falling in love with Eric so deeply. I am angry at Eric, for not returning; angry at my father for not letting us be together; angry at the fact that I know of the existence of vampires. Why couldn't I just be normal?

My life could be normal. I could have a mother and a father. I could be finishing high-school, being the school nerd, or being head-cheerleader dating the school's hottest guy. I could come home every-day, feeling safe and secure, opening my school bag and emptying out all my homework… a piece of paper holding a red A- or a school letter telling of a school trip to Europe. I've never been out of the US…

I realize I don´t want normality. I would never have met Eric. I would never have known of the existence of vampires… where would I be now? How is that being normal? The people out there are blind... they are living in a false sense of security, blaming murderers or even innocents for crimes committed so obviously by vampires, who to them are only mythical creatures. I live in a real society, where those amongst me are fully informed of the dangers out there. That is what being normal is. Vampires are real and they are such a large part of my life, whether I like it or not. Besides… I've never been normal. I don't want to be normal. I don't want to forget Eric.

What if I could though? More thinking, my inner self says. What if one day, I woke up and realized Eric was never coming back? What if I left home, went to school, found a nice guy… What if I married that nice boy, had a child, got a proper job. I could forget my past and live in a nice home amongst a naive and blind society.

But the reality is that I can't picture a future without Eric. Even in this scenario, what if Eric did come back? I picture myself older, 30-something… Eric at my door. So late. Too late. I've waited, but got tired of waiting. I don´t want him anymore. I have my own life.

I banish these thoughts from my head. I´ll always love him and want him. The question really is whether he´ll still want me. Now I just want him to come home to me. I just want him here so much; I need him here.

I stand up from the floor, bringing in a mix of thoughts about Kyle and my father, about lunch or about what might be on TV. With no more thinking about Eric to do, my legs finally make a move and in no time I am downstairs, tidying up the state in which the living room was left this morning.

An hour later, the kitchen is spotless, the living room is neat and tidy, and there is not one spot of dust anywhere, nor is there a cobweb in the corners nor a batch of crumbs on the floor.

I decide to make myself a cup of coffee, though I know the consequences of taking coffee at eight pm will be harsh. I won't be able to sleep tonight, meaning my mind will be free to think and think about Eric.

The coffee tastes warm and sweet down my throat, perfectly right, just how I like it. I guess it will be another evening on my own – no-one's home and no-one will be until at least tomorrow. I remember Kyle´s voice message from earlier. I had been in the shower and had missed the phone - luckily, Kyle's message had been so important that he'd decided to leave a voice mail.

Hi Ronnie,

Listen, another two vamps have made it to town in search of the ones we killed so we´re staying a while longer – you can take my car if you need anything; keys are in the safe and the safe number is 03075. I hope you´re okay.

I had laughed when I had first heard the voice mail. ´Keys are in the safe´- who keeps their keys in the safe? Vampire hunters of course. Normal people would say, ´Keys are in the drawer´ or ´I left my keys in the pocket of my jacket´ but we vampire hunters have more suitable places for our keys to be kept in. If anyone was to take our car and see inside our boots… well… they´d think we were nothing less than terrorists or mass murderers. A bunch of guns, stakes, chains… and other weapons. What a joke!

I look around the room until my eyes find the safe. I could take the keys, take the car and escape this life. Run and roam the world on my own – get a job somewhere, make some money. Nevertheless, I'd always be alone, alone as I feel right now.

I run back to my room, decide that it´s best if I get changed into my pajamas and go to bed. I could go to bed early and read a book, maybe Austen's Pride and Prejudice, one of my favorites. I could read until the coffee wears off and I can fall asleep.

I get changed quickly and then begin folding my clothes over and over again until they are perfectly folded with not one crease on them. I put them back in the wardrobe that is now full of my clothes. My father and I have made this our new home – we've still got our old house, but we both believe that some other company, in the form of Kyle and his dad will do us both some good. I know I´m definitely benefiting from this; Kyle's a relief to have. I know I could not just open up about Eric to my dad.

My dad actually went through the trouble of going down to our old house one weekend and gathered most of our stuff, including my limited wardrobe. Now this house feels like home, though looking at this room now, it is cold, quiet and mostly empty. I am in it, but someone else is missing.

I go back out, heading towards the one bathroom on the second floor of the house. When I am in, I sit on the edge of the bath and brush my hair over and over again. I French-Plat it, and then rinse my face with water. I brush my teeth, only to rinse my mouth too with some fancy green liquid of Kyle´s that I have been using for the past week. It makes my mouth sting at first but when I spit it out it leaves me fresh and clean.

I walk back across the floor until I reach the door to my room. I hesitate on the handle just a bit too long, as thoughts of every moment in this room flutter through my mind. Then I yank it open. I walk in, looking down at the floor.

A pair of black Converses stand opposite me. My head pulls itself and my eyes scan the familiar body that is Eric's. My heart stops and I breath heavily to re-start it as well as to feed my lungs the oxygen Eric's presence has just deprived them of. I scan him over again. His face is down, heavy. He's not looking at me; his eyes rest on the floor like mine had been and I begin to believe he does not feel my presence in the room. He's wearing black tight jeans, a maroon colored shirt and a black pea coat. The clothes have been torn to shreds. There are holes through the shirt, and the trousers are ripped at the knee. The coat has also suffered and is missing a whole strip of fabric by the left arm.

I look even closer, stepping towards him a fraction of what I'd want. He doesn't react, he just stands there. Blood has been spilled over him; large spots of blood cover his shirt and I see that beneath each of the rips are huge bleeding wounds. He's fought, he's lost and now he's bleeding. Those are my three conclusions. My face turns to shock and I stand there, unable to move closer to him, though my heart aches and reaches towards him, wanting to feel him.

"Eric," I breathe. How long has he been standing here?

"Help. Me." He says; his voice forming a rough whisper.

His last strength goes into those words as his legs give way and he collapses towards me. I yank forward catching him in my arms. I drop to my knees, holding his head in my hands. I need to do something, I need to help him.

I pull him closer to me, aware that my tears are now flowing down my cheeks and onto him. He recoils at every drop.

"What's happened? Who did this to you?" I mutter as tears stroll down my cheeks. I receive no answer.

I get up, bringing him up with me, and drag him along until we are by the bed. His left hand is around my neck, whilst I hold his right hand in mine. He is tall, and his solid marble pale-white body is heavy but I have to manage to position him onto the bed.

I sit him down first, holding him by the shoulders and then push him further down so that his back is on the bed. I lift his legs up and bring them onto the bed too. He now lies diagonally on the bed and for the first time I am able to see his face clearly.

His eyes are closed, and he is breathing deeply. He has a deep cut on his head above his left eye, and a small slit that sits on his right cheek. He has a bruise below the slit. Without thinking, I kiss it softly, hopeful that it will heal just like mine do when he kisses me. Instead he flinches at my touch. It doesn't work. I climb on the bed, straddling him and careful not to touch him as I know he hurts all over.

I don't know what to do, until I realize something my father had taught me. Normally, vampires heal automatically from human-caused wounds. These wounds aren't healing or seem to be. It means he´s fought a vampire. If I am right, then the wounds caused by vampires are much deeper, worse to the skin, and even a vampire such as Eric´s thousand-year-old skin isn't able to heal itself. Only human blood can heal him now. My human blood.

"Eric, please. You have to drink," I say, as I bring my neck closer to his lips. His lips brush my neck, but I don´t feel his fangs sink into me. Damn it!

It won´t work this way, I need another solution. But every second I waste, he is slipping further away from me. I see his eyes trying to blink open but his weakness is taking over his body. His wounds continue to spill blood, and I can only hold the bed sheets over them to help. It is seconds before they too are dripping with blood.

I look around me, only to find a nail-file on my bedside table that I remember using this morning to do my nails. It is sharp, and it will have to do. I have no time.

I slit a small part of the side of my neck slowly, hissing and screaming at the pain. I try to hold back tears, but it hurts so much and it´s not even a deep wound. Blood begins to spill out and as I look down to Eric, I see the drops of blood pouring down onto him already. One falls directly onto his bottom lip and his eyes blink open immediately. He first licks his lips but then his lips pull back, and I see his fangs descend.

"Eric, drink," I instruct.

I bring my neck down onto his lips, and feel his lips and tongue caress my wound before he sinks his fangs into me.

I smile softly with relief as I take in what has just happened. Eric is here. He has finally returned, just like he promised. He´s safe. He´s ill but I am saving him. My blood will cure him, and then he won´t ever have to leave me again. He loves me.

He sucks and sucks, every time getting healthier and healthier. His hands begin to move, caressing my upper body but then circling my back and clutching it so that I become immobile.

I feel my eyelids drop, but I am still smiling because Eric is here. His hands grip me harder, but I do not complain because I must save him. I do not question him yet about what has happened because I want him to get better.

At what cost?

I feel myself weaken; weaken further than I have ever. He´s taking too much blood. My body can´t support me any longer and I fall beside him separating my neck from his lips. Stronger, Eric jumps up, straddling me in order to sink his teeth once again into me. He´s vicious, thirsty and he needs me.

I struggle beneath him. My hands risk my last bit of strength to push him away, but it doesn't work. He´s too strong, and I can´t do more than kick and resist underneath him.

"Eric, please," I say. I need him to stop. I am falling into unconsciousness and soon I won't be able to defend my own body as he takes my blood.

I've been in this state before. I've been here twice. I'll die. He needs to stop. He doesn't understand. He´s thirsty… he can´t see me, weak… thin… dying.

"Baby please, I need you," he replies, misery in his voice. He doesn't understand – he won´t stop, he can´t.

"Eric, stop," I manage.

"NO!"

The tables have turned.

"Eric. Listen to my heart. I'm... dying," I manage, before sleep takes me and I lay motionless and still beside him, the slow thumping of my heart coming to a stop.