This had become my existence. Not my life; that ended the day I felt my heart stop. It lost its reason to keep beating when I said goodbye to Dorian.
My night is a blur, like most nights. I sit at the bar, drinking until the urge to feel leaves me completely. And when the numbness overcomes me, pretending becomes easier. I can smile, I can laugh. I flirt with random men, I dance like I haven't a care in the world. I can act like I am just like everyone else. I can pretend I'm alive again.
"Hey baby, can I buy you a drink?" a faceless man asks. I don't even bother to look at him; I just nod.
The stranger slides onto a barstool next to me. I plaster on a carefree smile and thank him. It's the same song and dance, night after night: guys buy me drinks, I get smashed then I somehow make it home to pass out.
The stranger slides two shots in front of us. I down mine without tasting it. Then another appears. And another. It's not until I have lost count when a heavy feeling begins to creep over me. I feel … weird. Not just drunk, but different. It's like I am having an out of body experience and can actually see myself stumbling off the barstool onto shaky legs.
"Here, baby, let me help you," the stranger offers. He's told me his name yet I haven't bothered to remember it.
"Uhhh," I groan, my head swimming viciously. "I need some fresh air."
The man grasps my arm to steady me and helps me outside. I'm appreciative because I honestly feel like I could not have made it out on my own. The cold, winter air only intensifies the sinking feeling and I feel like my legs could not carry me one more step. He wraps his arms around me to hold me up and my head rolls back onto his shoulder. I can't even begin to explain what's happening to me. It's as if my entire body has been submerged in quick drying cement and though I fight to get free internally, I can't move. I'm aware- dreadfully so- but it seems like I am watching a movie of myself being dragged towards the dark alley on the side of the bar.
Cold, wet, bricks scrape my back as the man buries his face in my neck, groaning expletives as he gropes my body. His odor of booze and sweat assaults my nostrils, coaxing the fear-induced bile rising in my throat. I will my arms to push him away yet they flop at my sides. My jaw drops and I try to scream for him to get off me, yet only a whimper escapes. He's tugging at my clothes, his hands forcefully gripping my flesh. I feel his dirty fingernails breaking the skin on my hips. It's not until I feel hot tears sliding down my cheeks that I realize that I'm crying.
This isn't happening to me. This can't be. But as the disgusting predator fumbles at the fly of my jeans, I can't deny what is about to happen.
Someone please help me. God … please. Doesn't anybody hear me? Isn't anyone there? This can't happen to me. I don't want this. Please...anybody. Help me … Dorian? Please?
My eyes, the only thing with mobility, dart around wildly, almost certain that he's heard my cry yet there is no movement in the dingy, dark alley. He should be here by now. He wouldn't let this happen to me, right?
A million reasons for his delay run through my head, followed by a million more scenarios of the impending minutes. I want to shut my eyes and block out the ugliness looming ahead. I don't want to feel it; I don't even want to be conscious. But I can't turn it off. No matter how bad I've wanted to be completely numb these past few months, there is no denying the sheer dread I feel. I try to summon my inner strength, try to will the auburn flames to enrapture my hands but nothing happens. Not even the icy prickles jab my eyes whenever my wrath takes over. I've been completely abandoned by both the Light and the Dark.
A tingling, creeping feeling sweeps over me suddenly. Tiny prickles like the sensations that Dorian delivers with every kiss. They sting my desensitized nerves, rousing them from their chemical paralysis. In the next second, feeling returns to my fingers and I wiggle out the stiffness in my joints. Sensation crawls up my arms and legs, stirring them awake and flooding my body with a renewed tenacity. I feel empowered, emboldened, and with a grunt, I use my newfound strength to push the vile bastard away.
"Get off me! Get your fucking hands off me!" I scream, my fists clenched at my sides.
My would-be rapist stumbles backwards, clearly stunned at my sudden coherency. "You filthy bitch," he sneers, gaining his footing and lurching towards me.
This time, I'm prepared for his attack. My fist collides with his face so hard that I hear an audible crack! from his jaw and teeth. I know I should run like hell. I know this is the perfect opportunity to seek safety. But I can't; I don't want to run. I don't want to feel weak or helpless for another second. I don't want to be a victim.
I approach him as he staggers while holding his ugly face and pummel him again. And again and again. With hard fists and feet, I beat the asshole until he is nothing but a lifeless pile of blood and flesh on the pavement. And I can't stop. I don't want to stop. I want him dead for what he was about to do to me. And for what he has more than likely done to countless other young women.
As I stand crouched over him, bawling, still kicking and punching his unresponsive body, strong arms wrap around me, whirling me around and depositing me several feet away from the scene.
"Let me go! Get off me!" I scream and fight though I don't move an inch.
"Shhhh, Gabriella," a familiar voice coos. His lips brush my earlobe as he murmurs soothing words. "I'm here, baby. Calm down."
Finally, he lets me go and I spin around to face him. "Niko?"
"Are you ok? Are you hurt?" he asks, assessing my torn clothing. I hadn't even noticed. He reaches over tentatively to button my coat to hide my exposed stomach then grabs my fists to look them over. They're covered in blood.
I shake my head. I am anything but ok. "I'm fine," I say panting wildly. My entire body trembles violently. "Where … were you? And Dorian? What happened to me?" My voice cracks with emotion at the end of my question.
"I'll explain everything once I get you out of here." Just then, a tall, impossibly broad man approaches, causing me to tense once more. Niko wraps his arm around me, feeling my anxiety. "Just clean up when you're done, Cyrus," he says to him.
The man that Niko referred to as Cyrus nods then turns to me momentarily. He looks as if he could be very handsome, however, his irises are blood red and horribly frightening. My eyes widen with fear. Cyrus gives me a swift nod then makes his way to my offender's battered body still crumpled on the cold ground.
"Who is that?" I whisper.
Niko looks down at me, a mischievous smirk on his lips. "Cleaning crew."
Before Niko can turn me towards the parking lot, I get a glimpse of exactly why he referred to Cyrus as the cleaning crew. Cyrus grabs the still unconscious pervert by the collar of his bloodied shirt and swiftly raises him up to meet his face. What happens next is something I couldn't imagine in my wildest dreams or my darkest nightmares. Cyrus opens his mouth wide, unnaturally wide, bearing a pair of razor sharp distended fangs and sinks them into the man's neck viciously. The wet, guttural sounds of teeth tearing into flesh causes my stomach to roil. My attacker's body flinches and twitches before resting into a deadened slump as Cyrus drains every drop of his blood. Then he drops him to the ground like the disgusting garbage that he is and drags him away into the shadows.
"What the hell was that?" I ask Niko with horrified eyes. "He was a … ?"
"Vampire. Yes," Niko simply states, ushering me to his car.
"But … no. That's impossible. There's no such thing!" Inside, I want to scream but the words pass my lips in a hoarse whisper.
Niko shrugs. "Months ago you probably thought we didn't exist either. But here I am. And here you are."
I try to wrap my muffled thoughts around everything that has just transpired in the span of 10 minutes. I am sure I was drugged and was about to be raped. Just when I thought that I had been completely defenseless, a powerful force swept over me, filling me with the strength to fight him off and beat that asshole to a bloody pulp. Then Niko swept in with a vampire? This shit just keeps blowing the lid off my sanity.
Niko ushers me into a dark SUV then climbs into the driver's seat, hurriedly starting it up just as a clap of thunder rocks the sky. Rain pours down in a sheet of water and it seems impossible for him to be able to see far enough to drive though he makes it to my apartment complex effortlessly. Neither of us are eager to exit.
"Is he … dead?" I already know the answer but I have to ask anyway. I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet.
"Yes."
"Really, Niko? Vampires?"
"Just imagine that everything you thought was myth is actually true. And everything you thought was real is an illusion."
An illusion. My human life, everything I've known, has been an illusion.
"Gabriella, do you have a death wish?" Niko asks, breaking me from my musings. "Because if you do, just tell me now so I can stop caring so much. I don't like that feeling. And it's selfish of you to put us all through hell just because you feel slighted."
"Niko, that's not what I'm doing."
"Really?" he asks, whipping his head towards me, suddenly furious. Lightning flashes across the sky followed by a horrifying clap of thunder, making him appear ghostly ominous. "Because you could have fooled me. You've been drinking yourself to death for weeks, not giving a damn about being cognizant about your surroundings. I've had to follow you every night just to ensure you made it home in one piece. But tonight takes the cake. You fucked up, baby girl."