I push to my feet. “Besides, that’s not even what you’re mad about. You’re pissed off because Laylen drank my blood and now I’m going to be addicted to getting my blood drunk.” I back toward the door, shaking with rage, but I’m not quite sure where it stems from. “Well, you know what. It was worth it because I know my mom’s still alive and that’s all that matters to me.”
He rises from the couch, and I turn to run. I think about running out the front door, running away from this mess—my feelings—because there’s too many of them inside me. I feel so much right now, I swear I’m going to explode.
The problem is that my emotions are strongly linked to people in this house and it makes running away impossible, so I do the only thing that I can. I race upstairs, lock myself in my room, and cry as confusion takes over my heart.
Chapter 7
Alex takes my hands in his. “Tell me you want me.”
We’re standing in front of the lake, the moon reflecting in the dark, still water. The chilled wind smells mossy and the water softly lulls. “Tell me I’m the only one you love.”
“I don’t even know what love is,” I reply, staring out at the water.
He frees one of my hands, fixes a finger under my chin, and angles my face toward him. “Tell me you love me, please,” he begs.
I open my mouth to speak, but then someone walks up behind me and I turn around, briefly breaking Alex and mine’s connection.
Laylen hikes up the shore toward us, bare foot and shirtless. “Gemma, I need you,” he says as he reaches us. “Please, come with me.”
He holds out his hand and I want to take it, but I also don’t want to let go of Alex’s hand. With my free hand I reach for him, but Alex tightens his hold on my other hand and pulls me away
“No, please don’t,” he pleads. “I need you.”
I glance back and forth between them as Laylen slips his fingers through mine. I hold onto both of them, knowing I’m going to have to choose, knowing that I can’t have both—that I don’t have the right to.
***
I stay in my room for two days. I don’t shower. I barely move, only getting out of bed to stare out the window and watch the city move through the time. Adessa brings me food, which I barely eat. Other than that, no one else comes to see me, although I sense both Alex and Laylen walk by a few times. The strange connection I have with them thrives the second they get close, but neither ever enters. It’s like I’m back to the old Gemma, the lonely, isolated one, and for the moment it’s what I need because I don’t know how to deal with everything inside me.
I watch the sun rise and set. The more time goes by, the calmer I get and I wonder if I should just stay in bed forever. Eventually, though, I start to stink and the grossness of the dried blood coating my clothes and skin gets to me.
As the sun descends behind the hills, marking the second day to pass since Laylen bit me, I climb out of bed. The lights of Vegas vibrantly sparkle through the window, lighting up the room, but it’s still dark enough that it’s hard to see so I flip the light on. I take a thin-strapped, black shirt from the dresser along with a cream and black striped skirt, and then I make my way out into the quiet hallway.
I’m not sure which door belongs to the bathroom, but I luck out and it’s the first one I open. I peel off my clothes, wincing at my stiff muscles, then turn on the water. As I wait for it to heat up, I look at my reflection.
My violet eyes are bloodshot and, even though the holes in my neck have began to heal, there’s dried blood all over it. My shirt is torn, exposing more of my breast than I’m comfortable with and my brown hair is tangled around my face. The only thing that is somewhat comforting is that the scratches on my neck, from where Laylen’s fangs scrapped me, are almost invisible. Still, I look hideous. It’s a simple as that.
I climb into the shower and scrub the blood off my body with a loofa. I scrub so hard my skin hurts. I scrub and scrub, the water beneath my feet tinting red as it whirls down the drain. I want to scrub everything off my body, including how I feel. Because, through my erratic, perplexed, emotions, I feel dirty and wrong and I want to feel right again, or as right as I’ve ever felt anyway. What I want is to feel the void inside my body shrinking. I want someone to comfort me, hold me, and hug me. God, when did I get so needy? I never needed anyone before, although I also never felt so bruised and emotionally torn up, either.
Hot tears spill out of my eyes as I rinse my face off and then sink down into the tub. I hug my legs against my chest, letting the showerhead pour water on me, wishing it had the power to erase my misery—erase me.