“HOLY SHIT, GABS, did you know that lady?”
I am urgently pulling Jared away from the dark tent that houses the hauntingly perceptive fortune teller, no small feat considering he outweighs me by nearly 80 pounds.
“No,” is all I can manage to choke out. My throat is tight with emotion and fear. How did she see that? It can’t be true!
“Will you hold up a second? What is going on?” Jared shouts, refusing to walk any further so all I’m tugging on is his shirt. I have to get out of here. Far away from that woman and her lies.
Jared grasps me by the shoulders, holding me in place. I’m disoriented, lost. My eyes dart around violently, unable to bring anything into focus. Jared reads the anxiety etched on my face and instantly relaxes his stance. He’s worried about me and reflexively pulls me into the warmth of his arms. I begin to resist his embrace but surrender after a moment. I feel defeated. There’s no fight left in me.
“Just tell me what’s wrong. Whatever is going on, we can fix it. Together. I'm here, Gabs,” he whispers. His chin rests gently on the top of my head and I clutch his back as if he is my lifeline. My salvation, here to save me from myself.
Neither one of us speaks for what seems like several minutes. Here we stand, in the middle of a bustling carnival in the dark of night, holding each other as if our lives depend on it. The best thing about Jared is that he can be so silently strong; his arms are all I need to find solace. He knows when to press the issue and he knows when to be quiet and let me draw from his strength. He is my best friend, the love of my life, and my protector all in one. He is all I need.
“I feel like I’m losing myself,” I finally croak. Jared remains quiet, letting me finish my thought. “I just don’t know anymore. I just want to fast forward to when I know who the hell I am. I want to just get this shit over with already!” The tightness in my throat restricts any more words from escaping and I nuzzle my face into the comfort of Jared’s firm chest.
“You’ll get there, baby. There’s no rush. You are perfect just like this.” Jared dips his face down and places a gentle kiss on the crown of my head. “I wish you could see what I see. Just let me in. You don’t always have to be so tough. It’s ok to be vulnerable.”
And with that, an aching sob escapes me, followed by a barrage of tears.
“YOU KNOW, THERE’S nothing you can’t tell me,” Jared remarks as we ride back to my house.
After I had finally calmed down, Jared insisted that we not let the fortune teller’s unnerving vision ruin our evening. He wouldn’t let me leave until we rode the bumper cars and split a ridiculously large candy apple. Then we rode the Ferris wheel, as promised, illuminated by the neon flashing lights under the clear night sky.
“I know,” I say with a warm smile. But in this case, the less you know, the better.
We pull up to my house, neither one of us knowing how to cease the deafening silence. The tension suffocates us with every strained second and it’s evident that there is something that we both want to say. Jared begins to open his mouth to speak when the double Ding! from my cell phone cuts him off.
From Dorian, 7:57 P.M.
-I need you. Now.
He needs me? Shit. Can’t I deal with my mixed up emotions one guy at a time?
“Sorry about that,” I say sheepishly, cramming my cell phone back in my sweatshirt pocket. I stow the rising excitement brought on by Dorian’s text. So I guess it was more than just a one night stand for him. Though it is approaching booty call hours.
“No, it’s fine,” Jared says passively.
The moment has passed. Part of me is disappointed but the better part of me is relieved. Dorian’s intrusion has reminded me of what just transpired not even 7 hours ago. I can’t go there with Jared now; I’m tainted with Dorian’s delectable essence. I can still taste him, can still feel the soreness between my thighs...
“Well, I better get inside,” I say reaching for the door handle. Jared’s large hand stops me in my tracks, pulling me back towards him. I look back at him puzzled, and read the ardor in his eyes. He gently tugs me to him, closing the distance between us inch by inch. I’m captivated by the sheer emotion emanating from him and it doesn’t register that I should turn away. Jared dips his head forward, pressing his warm lips on mine. It’s tender, heartfelt, and real. Like two teenagers experiencing their first kiss together. Uncharted territory full of promise and surprise.
We both pull away simultaneously, not sure of what to do or say next. Do I close with ‘See ya later!’ or just leave? No, Jared deserves better than that.
“You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” I say softly. “You are so much to me. So much more than just a friend.” I let out an uneasy sigh and look up at him through my dark eyelashes, unable to fully meet his eyes. “But it would be unfair of me to subject you to my bullshit right now. At this point in my life-”
“I’ve got it, Gabs, ok?” Jared says cutting me off. He isn’t angry; he’s resigned. Maybe more upset with himself for trying. I hate to see him tormented. I reach out to stroke his cheek but let my hand rest on his forearm instead. No need to throw salt in the wound. “I guess we both suck at timing, huh?” he chuckles.
I sigh with relief. “Yeah, we do. But maybe that’s a sign that whatever is in store for us in the future will be epic.” Let’s just hope it’s not an epic fail.
Jared nods. “Besides, we don’t want to end up like Morgan and Miguel.” My eyes grow wide with shock. Oh crap, he knows? Reading my surprised expression he continues, “Oh yeah. Miguel told me. What’s funny is he actually likes the girl. But he knows she’d never consider him.”
“You never know,” I remark. “Stranger things have happened.” Seems like strange has been a reoccurring theme lately.
“Well, I gotta get inside. Might be able to catch dessert with the parents.”
“Dessert? Good God, girl, where do you pack all that food in with your figure?!” he laughs. I shrug my shoulders; what figure is he talking about?
“Growing girl,” I smile. And with that, we hug goodbye before I skip to my front door.
When I enter the living room, Chris and Donna smile brightly at me, both surprised to see me home so early on a Saturday night. They’re watching a college basketball game; well, Chris is watching and Donna is reading. I love seeing them like this- content, comfortable, normal. I would kill for normal right now. I fight the invasion of sorrow and self-pity creeping into my heart and give them each a kiss on the cheek. They’ve been so good to me, considering what I am. They’ve loved me unconditionally and have never tried to mold me into something they knew I couldn’t be. They have always been, and always will be, my parents.
I pull my cell phone back out when I get to my room. I still haven’t answered Dorian’s text and I know I shouldn’t be rude. But tonight, I need to take some time for myself. Some time to sort out my own shit before I bring somebody else into the fold.
Dorian has been amazing, a welcomed distraction. But is it fair of me to surrender my body to him and pray that my heart doesn’t follow?
To Dorian, 8:47 P.M.
-Raincheck? I’ll be in touch.
I turn my phone off and plug it in to charge. After a hot shower, I throw on a pair of comfy pajamas and settle in for the night. The past week and a half has been a whirlwind of emotion. I need time to process.
Ding! Ding! What the…? I know I turned my cell phone off. I sigh and reach over to check my message. Probably a salacious text from Dorian. Oh well, his needs will have to wait for now.
Unknown, 9:35 P.M.
-Align with the Dark or Die
What. The. Fuck.
I look around my room wildly, not quite able to move my legs yet. How did someone get this number? How did they find me? Oh my God, have they been watching me all night?
As soon as I regain my faculties, I bound to my bedroom window, scared out of my mind at what I might find. There’s nothing, no one in my backyard. The window is securely shut and locked. I scurry to the living room to my parents and they both jump at my alarmed expression. I don’t know what to say to them, how to explain the terrifying messages I’ve been receiving. I can’t do this on my own. I don’t know what possessed me to think I could. Everyone needs help, myself included. It’s obvious that I’m not as strong as I thought I was.
“Well, what is it, sweetheart?” Donna finally says. How the hell do I explain? I look down at my cell phone, still captive in my rigid hand. Reluctantly, I extend it towards them, holding my breath as they glance down at the message on the screen.
“What is it that you want us to see?” Chris asks after a few moments. They both look back up at me, clearly puzzled. I step forward and grab the phone, unsure of why they’d need further clarification. It’s right there in black and white.
Unknown, 9:35 P.M.
It’s blank. Completely-freakin'-blank.
What the hell just happened here? I want to tell them what I saw; want to prove to them that I’m not going crazy. The message on the windshield, the text, the ghostly assailant in the parking lot. They would believe me. But then what? What could they possibly do other than worry themselves to death to protect me? They are defenseless, just like me. And it is selfish of me to expect them to risk their lives when they’ve already done so much. They took me in. I can’t repay them by involving them in this any further.
I shake my head fervently. “Nothing. I thought I saw something but it was nothing. Just been having trouble with my phone.” I turn on my heel and retreat back to my bedroom, despite my parents’ pleas to stay and talk.
If I am the Dark, maybe this is me creating this turmoil. What if this is all in my head? The parking lot phantom…what if that was just a manifestation of the evil inside me? What if it is calling out to me, urging me to embrace the darkness that already flows through my veins? I thought the messages were a demand. Could it actually be a proclamation?
And the most disturbing factor of all…..
The string of dead innocent girls. Could I be that evil? That cold and calculated?
That Dark?
“HEY KIDDO, CAN I come in?” my dad calls out, rapping on my bedroom door.
It’s well into the day and I haven’t surfaced, missing both breakfast and lunch. I even called in sick for my shift at the mall. I haven’t been able to face them since last night and I am genuinely afraid of what I could be capable of. If I ever hurt them, I could never live with myself.
Realizing that Chris won’t let up until I let him in, I open the door then quickly turn to flop back onto my bed. He steps in tentatively, holding a plate holding a sandwich and a pickle, no doubt the work of my mom. The woman swears I’ll starve to death if I go without food for a few hours. He has a bottle of water, which he tosses towards me unexpectedly. I catch it just before it smacks me in the face and see a ghost of a smile on Chris’s lips. What is that all about?
“Geez, Dad, thanks a lot,” I mutter sardonically. I open the plastic bottle and take a large swig, realizing how parched I am. Chris sets the plate on my dresser and takes a seat on my bed.
“Just making sure you’re paying attention,” he chuckles. He’s dressed in blue jeans and a sweater, fitting for the day’s chilly, rainy conditions. “What’s going on, Kid? You’ve been hiding out in here all day.”
“Just not feeling well, that’s all,” I lie, shrugging my shoulders.
Chris looks at me quizzically. “But you’re not sick. You’re never sick. So why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you.”
Huh? Never sick? It’s true, come to think of it. I was never ill as a child, not even as much as a cold. But I just chalked it up as me having a healthy immune system.
I shake my head at Chris. “I don’t know. I can’t involve you and mom any more. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
“What are you talking about? Who is getting hurt?”
“Those girls!” I shriek.
“That wasn’t your fault, Gabi,” my dad says exasperated. He feels I’m being irrational and he despises self-loathing. Like me, usually, though lately I've been a major hypocrite.
“But what if it was? What if it was me?” I say barely above a whisper. “Dad, I think I’m more Dark than Light.”
Chris lets his head drop, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He looks back up at me with assurance.
“Gabriella, you are not Dark. Yes, your biological father was a Dark One but that means nothing. There is a misconception that all Dark are absolutely evil. And that all Light are completely good. If that were true, how could they murder Natalia, a woman whose only crime was love, and force her to abandon her newborn child?
“There is good and evil in everyone, even we mere mortals,” he winks. “Your father, Alex, was not all evil. He loved your mother. He loved you. They say the Dark are incapable of love. Maybe he was an exception to the rule. Maybe not.”
My dad reaches over and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You’re good, Kid. Yeah, you’ve been known to crack a few skulls-,” he chuckles.
“Hey!” I protest playfully.
“But you’re good. Don’t forget that. And when you ascend, no matter which side you choose, you’ll still be good.”
Chris leans over to give me a reassuring kiss on my forehead but before he can pull away, I wrap my arms around him. He slowly embraces me into a big bear hug. I feel like a little girl again, afraid of the boogie man. But in this case, I’m afraid of being the boogie man.
We finally pull away from our embrace, both of us feeling renewed. Chris ruffles the top of my head as if I’m an 8 year old boy. I believe he always pictured me as the son he never had. He stands and makes his way towards the door.
“Before you go, can I ask you a question?” I say. It’s always been in the back of my mind but I never thought it was appropriate to ask. But now I’m wondering if it had something to do with me. “Why didn’t you and Mom ever have kids of your own? Was it because you were afraid I’d be a danger to them?”
Chris looks at me sullenly. Oh no, it was just as I thought. He then shakes his head as if reading my mind, dispelling my doubts. “No, of course it wasn’t because of you. You’ve never been a danger.” Chris takes a deep breath and drops his head a bit, unable to make eye contact. His hands turn into hard fists, the stretched skin over his knuckles turning white, almost translucent. “The Warlock, who attacked your mother…did things to her. Horrible, disgusting things. She isn’t able to conceive children. Natalia healed her the best she could but the damage was too severe.”
“Oh,” is all I can choke out.
I can tell the thought of someone so brutally violating his wife still enrages him. He nods just a fraction and exits without saying another word, and I regret conjuring that horrible memory.
I glance over at my haunted cell phone. There’s no point in hiding out in my room. If I am a threat, four walls won’t be able to hold me. I have to believe in what my dad says. He knows me better than some cheap carnival fortune teller with an overactive imagination. I’ve never been a threat to anyone who didn’t deserve it. And even then I was never capable of murder. That whole scene last night must’ve been an orchestrated coincidence. I tentatively pick up my cell and begin to tap rapidly on the keypad.
To Dorian, 3:18 P.M.
-How about that raincheck?
I’ve got to start somewhere. And no one makes me forget my unease better than Dorian.
Ding! Ding!
-I’ll be home around 5.
-See you then ;)
Yes! What is it about that man that instantly brings a smile to my face? I still hardly know him yet his presence is oddly soothing. He has such an effect on me- on my body, more specifically. Every touch is like a shock to my system. And his ability to make me explode with just his piercing blue eyes…how the hell does he do that? Some Tantric sex technique? The man has talent, that’s for sure.
I devour the pastrami on rye with haste and then jump in the shower, ensuring that I am groomed to perfection. Noticing that my hair smells like a mixture of hot grease and peanuts, I give it a quick wash. Once I’m clean, dry, moisturized and blow dried, I head to my room to pick out my outfit for the evening.
Knowing that what’s under my clothes will be more awe-inspiring, I choose a super skimpy, see-through mesh bra and panty set that I bought while lingerie shopping with Morgan. It’s black with pale pink trim and little ruffles on the butt. I haven’t had a chance or a reason to wear it before now. It looks pretty hot on me, and I’m tempted to show up to Dorian’s suite wearing only the sexy undergarments, a trench coat and high heels. Yeah right, Chris would wring my neck! I opt for a charcoal grey sweaterdress and knee-high boots as an alternative.
I make the trip across town listening to some sultry R&B tunes to get me in the mood. It reminds me of the first ride I took with Dorian, and the memory makes me smile instinctively. Dorian really does make me happy. I want to keep this casual, maybe even a little superficial, but something within me wants a little more. It’s selfish of me, I know, because I could never ever give him all of me. But is it wrong of me to want all of him? Can I try to have something substantial with him while hiding such a crucial secret about who and what I am?
I pull up to the Broadmoor and marvel at its splendor. It’s even more expansive than I thought now that I see it in the daylight. I notice the vast green golf course and even what looks to be a large body of water. Wow, impressive. For a moment, I wonder if Dorian golfs though he looks more biker boy than preppy golfer. After I let valet take my little hatchback, I square my shoulders with confidence and gracefully saunter through the extravagant entranceway.
As I make my way to the building that houses Dorian’s suite, I get a better look at the lake conjoined with a huge pool. It’s gorgeous and I imagine strolling along the little bridge with Dorian. The thought makes my heart flutter with hope and anticipation. I approach the doorman with a broad grin and bound up to the elevator, anxiety and excitement building with the rise of each floor. Soon I am face to face with the elaborate double doors of Dorian’s suite. I take a deep breath and knock three times before exhaling. Here goes. Time to finally get a sense of peace. And a night of illicit pleasure.
As the door swings open I am met with a pair of familiar blue eyes shrouded in glossy dark hair. A devilish smirk displayed on perfect full lips slowly evolves into a look of shock and disdain. The gorgeous face, evidently not pleased to see me, causes my heart to sink into the plush carpeting, though I plaster on a cold, dismissive guise. Animosity and friction heats the small space between us. This is not the welcome I so wistfully imagined and now I am relieved that I scrapped my trench coat plan. However, the person staring back at me with contempt is not Dorian this time.
It’s Aurora.