Chapter 28: Empty

I sat alone in the dimly lit bar, an untouched drink on the table in front of me. It had been a week since I'd left Paul and I still felt completely numb and empty.

Deep down, I'd thought that coming to Chicago was a mistake—it was the last place I'd lived with Will before I'd left him. I was sure he'd moved on by now—he was never one to stay in one place for extended periods of time, but I still felt slightly anxious about running into him.

I'd returned to Chicago because I'd craved some sense of familiarity and I'd known that I couldn't keep running forever. It would be nice to rest in a place that I'd once called home.

I wasn't sure why I'd entered the bar—perhaps I'd hoped that listening in on the mundane conversations of strangers would take my mind off the ugly scene I'd left behind in La Push. The bar was relatively busy but I'd been able to find myself a quiet booth by myself to sit with my thoughts.

I couldn't get the image of Paul's face as I'd told him that I was leaving out of my head.

He'd tried so hard to keep his face completely composed and neutral, to try and shut me out so I wouldn't know how he was feeling, but I could see the pain under the surface and in his eyes. Every single step I'd taken away from him had been painful and it had taken every ounce of willpower that I could muster to not run back to him.

I knew that I'd broken his heart and I knew that I'd made him hate me. I'd destroyed any sort of sanctity I'd created for myself in La Push and I would probably never be able to return.

Even if I did eventually return to Forks, how could I even attempt to repair the damage that I'd caused in my departure?

I yearned to feel his touch again, to have him hold me in his arms again and assure me that he still cared for me. I yearned to feel his love behind every kiss and I yearned to see the way his eyes would light up as he saw me.

I'd likely never see that again. If I ever saw him again, would he look at me the same way? Wold he hold me the same way? Would he—

"You alright there?"

A man's voice snapped me out of my reverie and I looked up to see a dark haired man in a leather jacket approaching my table. I'd chosen a secluded spot in the bar so I wouldn't be interrupted and the last thing I wanted was a stranger speaking to me.

"I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine," he pointed out. "You've barely touched your drink."

"Well, it's not a very good drink," I said.

"How about I get you something better, then?" he asked. Before I could object, he'd turned away from my table and approached the bar.

If I'd been smart, I would have run out of the bar before he had a chance to return to my table.

I watched as he ordered two drinks from the bartender and my eyes narrowed as I noticed him fiddling with something in his hands while he waited for the drinks to be mixed. Without making it obvious, I took a closer look and realized what it was.

It was a small vile of clear liquid.

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. If I ran out of the bar without him noticing, surely he'd just find another young woman to drug and take home against her will, wouldn't he?

I watched as the bartender handed him two drinks and as he turned away from the bar, he had his back to me for an instant and I knew that that was when he'd poured the liquid into what was meant to be my drink.

He'd done this before.

The motion was so smooth that it was clearly a practiced and perfected routine. I felt sick to my stomach as he approached my table again.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked, placing my drink in front of me and sitting down before I could even answer.

"Sure," I said, feeling pure hatred bubble in my stomach for him.

"I'm David."

"I'm Monica," I said smoothly. It wasn't the first time that I'd been in a situation where I'd had to come up with a fake name on the spot.

I took a sip of the drink he'd given me, feeling the alcohol burn my throat as it travelled into my stomach. I knew that I'd have to start acting like I was feeling the effects of what he'd given me within thirty minutes to convince him that he'd been successful in his attempt to drug me.

How surprised he'd be when I revealed my true strength to him after we left the bar.

Our conversation flowed well and I found out that he worked in finance in a huge office building in downtown Chicago. I gave as little information about myself as I could, trying to keep as much focus on him as possible and lying to him when he asked for personal details. As the conversation progressed, he got increasingly suggestive about his plans for our evening and I played along with him. I drained my entire drink, dreading the thought of having to cough it back up later, and I slowly began to act like I was feeling sleepy and weak.

"Tired?" he asked, keeping his tone as light as he possible could.

I nodded slowly and gave him a sleepy smile. "I should probably head back to my hotel."

"I'll walk you," he said, immediately standing and coming around to my side of the table. I pretended that I needed his support as I stood from my seat and stumbled a little bit as we began to walk out of the bar together.

"She's just had a little too much, I'm gonna make sure she gets home okay," David called out to the bartender as he wrapped his arm around my waist and held me close to him, half carrying me out of the bar.

I hated the feeling of his arm around me. Even without knowing what he had planned for me, it felt foreign to have someone other than Paul have their arm wrapped securely around me.

"I'm sorry," I said, giggling for added effect. "I'm not usually such a lightweight."

He chuckled. "That's alright—maybe it was just stronger than what you're used to."

He led me through the streets of downtown Chicago and after a few minutes of walking, I decided to bring up the fact that he was going in the opposite direction of my hotel.

"Whoa, wait—my hotel's the other way," I said, furrowing my brow and slurring my words. I made a feeble attempt to pull myself away from him.

"I don't think you should be alone," he said, securing his hold on my waist. "And I'm not ready to let go of you yet."

I tried not to react the way I wanted to as he pressed a sloppy kiss to my cheek. He cut through a dark alleyway and succeeded in catching me off guard by pushing me up against the wall and crushing his lips against mine. His hands gripped my hips so he could hold me steady against the wall and I allowed my body to go limp for a few minutes to let him think that he was succeeding in what he'd planned.

It was when his hand snaked below my shirt and up to my breast that I couldn't handle it anymore.

I shoved him away from me, slamming him into the wall on the other side of the alley. Shock clouded his features for an instant before he quickly recovered, a smug smile lighting his face.

"You've got a little bit of fight in you, huh?" he asked. "I like that."

I wasn't paying attention to what he'd said. When he'd hit the wall, he'd used his hands to brace himself and the brick had scraped his palms. The scent of his blood hit me hard and I found myself fixated on his hands.

I was instantly reminded of the the day that Paul and I had gone to the Olympic National Park and we'd encountered the injured man on the ground. How tempted I'd been to completely drain him right then and there, but Paul had been the one to stop me and had helped me clear my head.

But Paul wasn't there to help me this time.

As I approached David, he reached out to grab me again, but I grabbed him by the neck and pinned him against the wall. I knew that I should have run from the alley by that point or somehow hit him hard enough to knock him out so that I could drag him to a police station where he'd be arrested for his crimes.

That's not what happened, though.

It was as if the humane part of my brain had gone on vacation. Suddenly I didn't care about all the work that I'd put in to control my thirst. It didn't matter that I'd been clean for over a decade at this point. All that mattered was drinking this disgusting man's blood.

"Whoa—your grip is a little tight there," he stammered, clawing at my hand on his throat.

"Good," I practically snarled.

"What the fu—"

I cut him off by sinking my teeth into his neck and completely draining him of his blood.

His blood was an explosion of flavour on my tongue, despite the taste of alcohol in his bloodstream. It had been so long since I'd drank human blood that I was nearly overwhelmed by the intense flavours I was tasting. It was the sweetest nectar, with rich, warm notes nestled deep within it.

It had me questioning why I'd ever decided to stop drinking it in the first place. I'd been a fool to get so angry with Will for doing what was precisely in our nature to do.

David's body went completely limp and I dropped him on the ground, wiping his blood off my mouth with my sleeve and casually walking down the deserted street. There was absolutely no one around to witness what had happened, but even if there had been, I was sure that I'd be able to make quick work of them with ease.

For the first time since I'd left Paul, I felt alive again. I could feel David's blood coursing through me, feeling like a shot of adrenaline.

It was only when I got back to the hotel that I fully processed what I'd done.

I'd murdered a man tonight.

Of course, he'd been a disgusting excuse for a human being who would have preyed on someone else had I not disposed of him, but I'd still done it.

No one innocent, a voice in my head whispered.

I was already so far gone that I knew that I wouldn't be able to stop while I was away from the one person who kept me grounded, so as long as I only went after bad people who would cause harm, then surely I was in the right, wasn't I?

I was taking a page out of Will's book, convincing myself that I was some sort of vigilante, protecting innocent lives as I was satiating my thirst and chasing the high that came with drinking human blood.

As I sat alone in my room, I felt the emptiness beginning to take over again and I set out for the night to find another victim before the loneliness could take over.