Vampiric: Chapter Eight, Part 3

The night of the broadcast, Caroline took Ian and me out to a restaurant for dinner, her way of ensuring I was going to eat something. She may not have noticed my sleeplessness, but she had noticed my eating habits. They discussed if everything had been triple checked and if there were enough cars to carry everyone. According to all the files I had looked over the past weeks, the group had expanded considerably—at least quadruple the size it had been at the first broadcast; we were large enough to be seen as a real force of reckoning.

We were back at headquarters before most had arrived, but a few people were milling about anxiously. Caroline reminded me I could work up in the office some more if I wanted, but Ian would fill in for me tonight. She didn’t believe I was emotionally ready for the task.

As I walked toward the stairs to the office, I noticed Drei standing in the shadows, hands buried in his pockets. Before I knew what I was doing, I was in front of him, feeling something for a change. Feeling anything was frightening and a relief.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying to keep the sudden press of tears at bay. “But nothing happened. I should have talked to you about it sooner, but I swear it’s not what you think.”

He looked over my head and then to the left as though scanning the thin collection of early birds.

“Listen to me,” I cried, forcing him to face me even if I couldn’t force him to see me, to acknowledge me. “You’re wrong, Drei. Okay? For once, you’re wrong.”

“I am not mistaken,” he said icily, refusing to meet my gaze.

A burst of air pinned him against the wall, and I was there, standing inches from him. Anger and hurt raced through my veins and logical thought failed me. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing, or planning to do. “You are. Just listen to me, will you?”

“There is nothing for me to hear.” He turned his face away from me.

“That’s not true!” I shouted, wanting to make him listen. He had looked at me when I started to assert myself, maybe he’d listen if I did something else. If I didn’t give him any other choice, I could force him to face me…see me…hear me. Maybe even believe me. Instead of just being stuck in his own head and his own pool of pity, too blind to see the damage he was causing.

Caroline interrupted, stepping between us and forcing me away from him.

“Just let it go, Abs. Let it go; it’s easier;” she ducked her head around to try blocking my view of him.

I fought to move around her, to close the gap she was creating, but it was half-hearted at best; I didn’t want to hurt her. “He needs to listen to me,” I cried, tears searing my cheeks.

“No, Abs. He doesn’t want to and you can’t force him,” she said sternly. “All you can do is leave him alone.”

“But I can’t,” I argued, wishing she’d go away. I didn’t need her to tell me what I was doing; I could figure that out for myself if I really wanted to. With the tears, though, the anger was draining quickly and, with it, the last of my energy.

She led me up to her office, sitting me down in the chair and squatting before me; she wrapped her hands around mine. “Work, if that’s what helps,” she ordered. She bit her inside cheek as if holding back some other choice comments. I guess she figured one of us had to rational and that wasn’t going to be me. “Trying to change him isn’t going to do anything except hurt you more.”

I tried to tell myself she didn’t know what she was talking about, but she was right. I had been fine feeling nothing, and now I felt like I was just in a new mess altogether. So nodding, I quietly said, “I won’t leave the office until you’re all gone.”

“Good,” she said, relief washing from her. “This is in your best interest, Abs. I’m not trying to be a bully, you know.”

“I know.” I wasn’t able to meet her gaze. I would have told her it was hard, start to let her help me a little, but I couldn’t. It seemed every time I let someone in, something went wrong. They either left me or told me to leave them, always after they hurt me.

Despite my earlier intention of doing some more sorting, I couldn’t bring myself to move from the chair. For a while I just stared at the stacks of paper everywhere, trying to figure out why I had approached him. What had I expected to happen? When I didn’t find an answer to that, I listened to the pre-show jitters downstairs, letting their words drown out my thoughts. It was easier than actually thinking. Thinking was dangerous for me. Who knew what I would do? I certainly didn’t.

After the cars all drove into the distance, I left the office, deciding to walk back to the apartment. The cool night air calmed me a little, and the hidden stars seemed to twinkle louder than usual, as if trying to comfort me; the moon watched, and I let her. When she felt the time was right, she would do something, I guessed. So I questioned how long that would be. How long until I could hold him again and know he loved me?